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The Heart of a Warrior
Mandy Carr • 7 March 2021
Discovering what is worth fighting for
Have you ever been caught up in a discussion about whether a factor is a result of Nature - our inherited characteristics, or Nurture - our environment? The obvious answer is it's usually both. Studies of identical twins raised apart has thrown up some fascinating results about the strength of genetics, but different cultural and familial factors can also have a decisive impact on the development of personality, and whether a genetic disposition is expressed or not.
My parents always spoke about my determined nature being evident from birth. I wasn't someone who had to be coaxed out of the womb, past the due date, with the bonnie abundance of a big baby. I came quickly and a month early, weighing just under 5 lbs. Was I going to be that kind of person from the beginning? Or did the struggles of a premature birth create in me 'the fighter' as a product of learned behaviour? I don't know if 'warrior types' are primarily born or made but, in my case, there were plenty of challenges in the environment to continue the development.
I was the younger sibling of an older brother, who ensured that I would know who was boss. This is the natural order of things, as any sibling group would know. Older = Senior. However, age was not the only factor in play. Having a male sibling gave me an opportunity to compare the difference that sex and gender had on our lives. I should also put this into its cultural context. This was the 1970s. While there had been global movements to challenge the Patriarchy, these hadn't filtered down to everyday life in the UK. My school books were still littered with courageous Princes rescuing (frankly useless) Maidens from tall towers, who only seemed to be interested in growing their hair, doing their embroidery, and waiting for their handsome prince to marry them. Some had 'Janet and John' books, but I remember 'Peter and Jane'. Jane was always helping Mummy in the kitchen, while Peter and Daddy were outside doing something I'd much rather have done. Men were the actors, the players, and the protagonists. Women were the static ones, who were there to look pretty and be grateful for any, and all, male attention. The sexism in TV Comedy programmes like 'The Benny Hill Show'
was the background noise of my childhood and I laughed along with it too.
At some level, recognising that boys seemed to have a better deal, I became a 'Tomboy'. In play, I took on the male roles. I was going to be Robin Hood, not Maid Marion, and yes I did want my own pair of boots to play football with the boys. My mother tells the story of how my primary school Headteacher didn't want girls playing in the team, so he purposefully stuck me in goal on a freezing afternoon, in a bid to ensure that I moved to an appropriate 'girls sport' such as netball, and it worked. Slowly but surely the cultural forces of socialisation attempted to shape my expectations and practices, not as extremely as they had in my Mother's generation, but still firmly enough. My secondary education, which was in an all-girls school, offered me Home Economics and Needlework, both of which I was rubbish at and totally uninterested in. Some of the subtle and not-so-subtle messages of a 'woman's place' were still at work, which may seem ludicrous and archaic to young women in the same school now.
The working world wasn't any better. When I took on a Saturday job working in the kitchens of a local public boys school, I was soon asked to do waitressing for the Masters' dining room. I'd been told by the manager that he wanted 'attractive birds with brains'
to do it. Would this be a named requirement for male employees too? I sincerely doubt it.
Then when my boyfriend had to re-apply for a job in his County Council, his boss, who I'd never met before, said to me 'if you want him to get this job, you ought to be nice to me!'
I thought it was outrageous then, and I think it's despicable now. I suspect that the 'Me Too' movement is only scratching the surface of the reality of what women have lived through. If we really want to have our hair stand on end, we need to talk to our mothers and grand-mothers. 'It was different back in our day'
they'd say, only revealing the inculturation of acceptance and silence where 'not making a fuss about it' was the expected norm.
Practically every woman I know has a history of incidents logged in her memory of when she was treated as if she were 'less than' her male peers. It's the kind of thing that makes warriors of us all, unless of course, we sublimate it to keep the peace and not make waves. I understand that because speaking out can be costly. We may be ridiculed, or get 'a name for ourselves'. Or, more seriously, it may have real repercussions that affect us materially as well as psychologically and emotionally. It is a risk, and we as women will draw the fire if we are ones who put our heads above the parapet.
One might like to think that now in 2021 we are making great strides forward in the equality of the sexes, but we know we're only just getting started. The gender pay gap still exists and there are lingering issues, more in attitude than regulation now, about maternity leave and childcare. Many women report that they still seem to have to work twice as hard as their male counterparts to be considered for promotion. I'm not suggesting it's deliberate, I suspect it's mostly unconscious bias. It has seeped in insidiously, and become normal. Yet because it's not called out and deconstructed in a way to promote mutual learning, it's unthinkingly passed on, thus perpetuating the cycle.
And then there's the Church. Where do we begin? We could talk about the early women leaders being 'airbrushed out' of its history. We could show how scripture has been used and abused to further this cause. We can see how, armed with only one side of the correspondence, the advice relating to women in the pastoral letters took on a precedence in subsequent generations, the author may not have intended it to have. For example, Paul's letters to Timothy - speaking into the specific context in Ephesus - have become the 'go to' texts prohibiting women in leadership. Yet Paul has a list of women he greets and affirms as fellow-workers and partners in the Gospel. These anomalies seem to be ignored when a certain interpretation is preferred, repeated and taught as the Word of God. We could also speak about how translations have supported confirmation bias, to change the names of female apostles into male, because it was deemed impossible hat a woman would hold that position. We could allude to the anxiety there is about women's sexuality that spills over into religious belief. So Mary, the Mother of Jesus, can only remain the pinnacle of womanhood to some, if she is mother and perpetual
virgin. She's not allowed to be a real woman with a normal, healthy, sexual relationship. The anxiety comes more forcibly to the surface when Mary Magdalene, an 'Apostle to the Apostles' is described as being a prostitute. Despite the later correction, Mary never quite outruns her bad press and the prejudice still lingers. Perhaps the woman who is most heinously treated is Eve. Called by Tertullian, the Early Church Father, - 'The Devil's Gateway'
she has been held disproportionately responsible for the Fall.
We could go on to show how the contribution of women in scripture has been undervalued compared with their male counterparts. In the Hebrew scriptures we have Esther, Deborah, Ruth and Miriam, to name just a few of the heroines with a warrior heart, and in the New Testament, we have Priscilla, Junia, Phoebe, Lydia, and many others. This is before we count the number of women in both Testaments, who are never even given a name, despite being central to that passage of the narrative.
For me, the most significant offence in this area is our failure to follow Jesus' lead, in his acceptance, his honouring and his inclusion of women. Whereas Jesus was willing to cross cultural and religious boundaries to affirm women, it wasn't long before the pendulum swung back to the conservative status quo. The 'thank you Ladies, we can take it from here' became the androcratic response at some point in the Early Church and we are still living with the effects now. And yet, there are still those figures throughout history who kept the warrior spirit alive.
Revd. Lindsay Llewellyn-MacDuff, the Chaplain to the Bishop of Rochester, has written about some of these characters in a book on the 'Imagined Church in Kent - the story of women's witness in, through, (and despite) Kent.' In it she writes about queens, scholars, nuns, rebels, missionaries, teachers and reformers all playing a part in the story of faith. This kind of text should be included on the syllabus in the same way that other histories have, and have challenged our white Eurocentric view of events. Maybe this kind of literature is included in some places, but I suspect as an essay option 'for those who like to study that kind of thing' not as a main core text for everyone. While we make this kind of learning optional, we allow the status quo to continue unimpeded. Those with the privilege often don't feel the need to engage with it, because they think it doesn't directly relate to them. It is only the education of all and the calling out of discrimination (conscious or unconscious) that will make a different world.
There are times when I catch glimpses of it but then something is said or done which shows that sexism and misogyny are alive and well and not far below the surface. Perhaps we've been lulled into a false security by a political correctness that hasn't tackled the underlying problem. It's the attitude that 'you've got a seat at the table now, so stop whining'. The problem with that analysis is that we've only been allowed that seat through the introduction of legislative provision, which still enables others to pretend that we're not there. 'Mutual flourishing' is a convenient way of holding together the concept of opposing positions, but it doesn't make sense when we are talking about issues of justice and equality.
Underneath it all, women, and those who support them, are still going cap-in-hand to those who hold the power to allow us to be. It leaves untouched the patriarchal viewpoints that are perpetuating the problem. When we allow our critics to define us, and there's nothing that does that more succinctly than the descriptor 'feminist', we cede the power of our words. I know that terms can be reclaimed and reframed by communities, but I'd rather not give the critic the semantic advantage. The Warrior spirit in me is stirred by an injustice which I do not believe is in the heart of God, as expressed through Jesus. We have just had the reading of the cleansing of the Temple in John's Gospel where Jesus showed his righteous anger at the extortion and corruption of the place where God was thought to dwell. Those who were considered to be God's representatives were oppressing the poor and exploiting their piety in the sacrificial system for their own gain and Jesus did not let it go. Instead his response was full-on and would have made him many enemies, but there are some things worth making a stand for.
As I write this blog I'm aware of my cultural conditioning begging me to stop now. I am in danger of sounding 'strident' (which - by the way - is a word only used in relation to women who have dared to get out of their designated box.) It's like saying 'stop now, you've made your point and you'll only upset everyone if you keep going'. Justice, truth and equality are the casualties when comfort in the status quo has the whip hand. To all those women who can relate to this inner-censor, I quote some words from Jayne Manfredi.
To the women who are labelled:
Aggressive: Keep being assertive
Bossy: Keep on leading
Difficult: Keep telling the truth
Too much: Keep taking up space
Complicated: Keep asking hard questions
Discover your warrior heart within because there are some things worth fighting for. Remaining quiet only maintains the status quo. Don't think that the battle is over, it's still raging all around us.
Tomorrow we are having our first Sunday service in our church building. Most of us are looking forward to seeing one another and, despite the limitations, getting back to some kind of normality. Only, it isn't is it? This is not resuming 'normal' service when there is social distancing, mask-wearing, no singing, Holy Communion of one kind distributed in a more clinical way, and no friendly chat over coffee after the service. It is, however, what it has to be and we will abide by the guidelines. Whatever the experience, it will certainly be different from what Church has been like for the last six months. Since the end of March we have been out of our church buildings. Some congregations have bolted back in as soon as they were able, but others, our church included, have delayed their entry. In the meantime we have been providing Morning and Evening Prayer live-streamed to our Facebook Page, and creating full Sunday Services that have been pre-recorded and released through the website for Sunday morning viewing. Not only has the church family participated in filming themselves preaching, giving readings and leading prayers, but a different format has enabled us to be very creative. For the last two and a half months we have included interviews with our Mission Partners around the world, and stories from some of our members such as: a day in the life of a local dairy farm and the experience of a nurse on the front-line in intensive care. We've gone on to make more connections outside our usual congregation and interviewed the headteacher of our primary school and the person heading up a local community initiative to make PPE. I also recorded something about how we put together the filmed services for Sunday and some reflections about Digital Church. The feedback from these segments has been universally very positive. We are now entering into a period of 'hybrid' church where we want to continue to have an online presence for those who have joined us over these last six months and those continuing to shield, but also to gather in the church building on a Sunday morning to provide 'live' liturgy and Holy Communion. We don't have Wi-Fi or cameras for live-streaming in the church, so combining the two isn't an option at present. There is also a different kind of intimacy created when a speaker addresses their audience directly (presenting to camera ) which will mainly be lost in the fly on the wall recording of worship. Keeping both modes going in a small village church is going to be a challenge in both time and effort but I can't see another way forward. When I have discussed the issue of returning to our church building, I have noticed that there is a great deal of ambivalence about it. I'm not talking about those who will continue to shield for various reasons, or those on the fringe who don't want to come until they can enjoy singing again; I'm talking about those who are not shielding and who are at the heart of the Church. Some of this reticence is a general anxiety about what it is going to be like, but there is something more - something other involved. It is the elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge. It is the honest response that is difficult to own up to. In short, it is the revelation that being away from much of the practice of Church has been positive for them. They've appreciated the break. It has given them back the time and energy they've missed because they have not been sucked into endless meetings. They have enjoyed the flexibility to watch a service at another time of the week (and yes - on the sofa in their pyjamas and slippers with a coffee in their hand). They've also quietly admitted that they've got more out of the creative format than they usually do in just a liturgically-driven service. Of course they are missing seeing people in the flesh, but other than that, they are not rushing back with enthusiasm to the culture of Church. Again I need to stress I am not talking about a Country Club mentality or those who are just consumers; I'm talking about people who are sincere, praying, mature disciples. So what does that say to us about how we 'do' Church together? Covid has given us a vision into a different kind of being Church. This is something I have felt as a vicar too. At the beginning of lockdown, despite experiencing pressures in other ways, I was relieved that I no longer had to be completely diary-driven, squeezing an appointment in here and there and being bombarded by emails and literature telling me how I was to observe this special Sunday or get behind that campaign or initiative. Suddenly The Church was asking how we were and sending pastoral letters of encouragement. The de-cluttering of ministry allowed us to breathe as we set about supporting those in our community as best we could and nurturing each other with hope. I had more pastoral phone calls with people than I've ever had and it was great to have the time to make those connections. Webinars popped up with a huge number of people participating via zoom because they didn't require lots of time and distances to be travelled. There was space to consider what was important and to do the few things as best we could, rather than running around like a headless chicken trying to do it all, and still feeling there was much left undone. Now, however, normality has started to seep back in. I have noticed the tone in the emails changing. Whereas before we were given the flexibility and freedom to do what we could in the circumstances, slowly but surely, things are going back to how they were. Although our Diocesan Bishop has personally been very amenable to us returning when we feel we can, the machinery of Canon Law has geared up commanding us to get going and do . In some ways this is perfectly understandable. I am in Holy Orders in the Anglican Church and as my Spiritual Director would say: 'the clue is in the title'. But it doesn't stop me asking the question if we are missing something significant in the process of reflection. And this is really the point of this blog. Although I recognise that various traditions in The Church will have different views about this subject, and some will vehemently disagree with what I've expressed, there will be others who would give me a nod and knowing look, even if they might not verbalise it openly. For us, Covid has given us a window onto a more healthy, more balanced, ministry. Even in lockdown there seemed to be a greater freedom. Central control was rolled back as we were enabled to make decisions relevant to our circumstances. The rest of the world got sight of what happened behind church doors as congregations went 'online,' many of us for the first time. The world was interested and started to view our offerings in great numbers (and it's not as if there wasn't any thing else to watch.) We were reminded of our mission and what the Church is for and yet, now I fear that the concern to return to the status quo will close down the creativity. The great doors of our churches will bang shut again, cutting off the many who have reconnected, or taken an interest for the first time. It's not what we would necessarily want, but when the juggernaut of 'business as usual' starts up again and gets going, there will be casualties because we cannot do everything. It's not that The Church is not attempting to address the digital age - it is. There are Facebook groups and webinars, training offered and support given, but these will only be helpful in the long run if we are given the space and time to implement them. They cannot be another layer of expectation otherwise they just become another pressure that re-shackles us to a works-driven ministry that weighs us down rather than gives us life. Despite my enthusiasm for Digital Church, if we just add it to our 'to-do list' we are still not addressing the elephant in the room. The challenge of this time is much more fundamental and far-reaching. It's not about add-ons; it's overhauling the whole way we do ministry together. I wish that we had the courage to address fully the insights that have come from this difficult period, but I fear that our nerve will fail us. Instead of exploring together the mission of God in this new age, our discussions will be replaced by urgent meetings about pastoral re-organisation and clergy deployment. The financial crisis will lead the way and set our agenda. We will tell ourselves that we will fix this by doing what we always do, but doing it more and doing it better. In all the activity and the pressure to keep the show on the road, we will have lost an important piece of insight, and it's there, in the corner, in the shape of a big, grey elephant, that no one wants to acknowledge.
It's been a turbulent couple of weeks. Aside from the ongoing pandemic, we have witnessed the death of an unarmed black man, George Floyd, at the hands of white police officers in Minneapolis. Demonstrations have followed on both sides of the Atlantic. Rather than try to calm a volatile situation, President Trump threatened to call in the military to restore law and order. Tear gas was also used to force protestors out of the way, (along with some media personnel and clergy), so he could stand on the steps of a church for a photo op, and wave a Bible about in a rather awkward fashion. It appeared to be a sign of his righteous justification for his response to the crisis. The Right Rev Mariann Budde, the Episcopal bishop of Washington, was outraged by his behaviour. She said: “Let me be clear, the president just used a Bible, the most sacred text of the Judeo-Christian tradition, and one of the churches of my diocese, without permission, as a backdrop for a message antithetical to the teachings of Jesus.' The death of George Floyd rightly provoked widespread condemnation but even with the disastrous track record of the death of black people in similar circumstances, the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter made some white people very defensive. The desire to replace it with #AllLivesMatter missed the point that this is not, and has never been, a level playing field. The purpose is not to induce guilt and shame in a particular race or ethnic group, it's about having the courage and respect to listen to another person's story that is different from our own. If we sit down to listen we may discover how the white privilege, to which many of us are blind, can oppress others. As a woman, I have had experience of being treated 'differently' from my male counterparts - and for that, read: less well. It doesn't make me hate men. In fact, I rather like them. But I want them to understand what it means to be a woman in a world where men have a more privileged position. That learning may help them to choose to act differently, even if we accept there is a lot of cultural conditioning involved. Equally, I have no direct experience of the prejudice experienced by my BAME counterparts. As a privileged white person, it's me that has to be educated so I have a fighting chance of recognising my own unconscious bias and resisting it. Of course the whole discussion is uncomfortable because we are talking about who has power and who doesn't and who has more opportunities and who has fewer. I'll say it again: This is not a level-playing field. While we all scrabble to say something profound and meaningful to show that we care, perhaps the best thing we can do is ask questions and then listen. 'What has life been like for you as a black person growing up in this culture?' A simple, non-defensive, open-ended question. The conversation should lead us to more questions and more revelations, but what we do with the experience of others, raises issues about intent, equality, and the sharing of power. If we do nothing other than say 'Oh dear, poor you' then we collude with the system and structure that produced the heartache in the first place. Without challenge nothing changes, and we should not be surprised when more deaths of black brothers and sisters in similar circumstances follow. Questions force us to go deeper into what is really going on. This is why they can be so dangerous. Catholic Archbishop, Helder Camara, famously stated: “When I feed the poor, they call me a saint, but when I ask why the poor are hungry, they call me a communist." In a bid to hang onto their power, the Powerful routinely denounce and ridicule their critics, refusing to invite them into dialogue. When honest questions are treated with contempt, we see the self-preservation of privilege in action. The posing of questions is a route to the understanding of ourselves and others. Writing a blog is one thing, but for it to live, rather than just be well-meaning, it requires application. I have to ask myself questions and I may not like my answers. It's hard to recognise and address our own biases, especially when we're not sure we want to give up our privilege for the benefit of a fairer world. That is a question all privileged people have to face, because when the theoretical becomes practical, it always costs. This is why it is more comfortable to keep our heads down. We can choose where to look if we have privilege. Jesus asked many questions in the Gospels. They shone a spotlight on human experience, bringing insight and revelation and laying bare motives and character. A question by its nature is different from a statement. It implies engagement and therefore, has some element of choice in the response. We may choose to answer truthfully - or not. We may choose to back up our words with actions - or not. We may decide not to answer at all, but there is always a decision to be made. As a priest I'm becoming more aware that there is a responsibility on me to become more engaged politically, to speak up for the marginalised and oppressed, and to hold the powerful to account. It is something I do not relish and it is likely to lead me into conflict. However, I cannot see a way out of it without neutering the Gospel and becoming a ritual functionary, instead of, what I'm called to be, a priest in the Church of God. I have already run into trouble when I was told that the role of the clergy was to look after the spiritual well-being of the people and leave the politics to the politicians. What this was really about was an expectation and command that I should say nothing. I was not to rock the boat. I was required to be 'bland'. To be anything other would be critical of the structures and systems in charge. I was further astounded by comments on the internet implying that it was not Christian to criticise or call authorities to account. In that social media stream, the most quoted verse was 'He that is without sin can cast the first stone' (John 8:7). There was no recognition of the context where Jesus was saving a woman from being stoned to death by an oppressive system where the odds were stacked against her. And yet, according to the view that challenge to the authorities is wrong, Jesus should have stepped aside and said ' Off you go then lads. Do what the Law demands.' With careful reading of the gospels I see Jesus challenge all systems and structures of domination, and calling out the misuse of power in the oppression of others. In these difficult days perhaps the most relevant question that could inform our behaviour as Christians, is the question: 'What would Jesus do?'
I've noticed something about the conversations I've been having recently. We're in a different 'emotional' phase of this pandemic. I'm not talking about those for whom COVID-19 has become horrifyingly real, where members of their family or close friends have died or have been seriously ill. I'm talking about the rest of us. Those in the first group don't need a blog about perseverance when they have lived their story. They know - and there are no words. The second group, however, are vocal, and their conversations are turning. There is boredom and frustration and tempers are fraying. For some, this happened on the second day of lockdown but for the majority, it has seeped in over the weeks. At first, there was talk of tackling those jobs that we never had time to do. In our house, the utility room has been tidied and the linen cupboard sorted (neither of which were my doing). I did however clear out the bottom of my double wardrobe and move stuff out of my office - not that anyone would notice. I know others have taken on DIY projects or tackled the garden. Some may even have planned more elaborate ventures involving building works. More commonly, I suspect, many of us considered a number of projects but didn't quite get them going. As a consequence, the script or novel never got started, let alone finished; that skill or language was left unlearned; and the scales still tell us things we don't want to hear. I can relate to all of this. In the personality assessments, I'm great in the creative ideas stage but a dreadful finisher. The concentration involved in keeping something going deserts me and I'm soon looking out for 'the next thing'. I know that in order to give the best that I have I need to work alongside others who do detail and know how to finish a project. That way, the result really will exceed the sum of the parts. It's not so easy to collaborate at this time, despite our attempts via new media to connect with one another. My husband is the detail-driven finisher which makes us a good team. He thinks it must be very tiring being me. He also says that when I get bored, I get disruptive, which might be true. I can certainly relate to the tide turning as lockdown continues. There has been plenty of stoic responses on social media saying that 'the older generation had to cope with the Blitz, so we can sit on our sofas for six weeks.' This was countered by someone saying that 'at least during the war, you knew who, and where, the enemy was' and people could band together in support etc. This current crisis is quite different. Our Prime Minister has said that he will be discussing a 'map' out of lockdown this coming week. I suspect he needs to give the British public something, even if it is his trade mark humour and positivity. We may be past the peak of the infection, but I'm sure Boris's own experience in ICU has brought the danger home to him in a way that many politicians wouldn't have shared. This should reduce the temptation to be too gung-ho about lifting the lockdown prematurely. What we need is the assurance that 'this too will pass' and ways in which we can keep on keeping on without losing the plot. Today I was thinking about this and I was reminded of a couple of themes in C.S.Lewis's book The Screwtape Letters. The book takes the form of letters from a senior to a junior devil and it was first published in 1942. It is a Christian classic and well-worth reading if you haven't done so. The first theme is about the Law of Undulation. Observing human beings, the senior devil says that 'their nearest approach to constancy..is undulation - the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks...As long as he lives on earth, periods of emotional and bodily richness and liveliness will alternate with periods of numbness and poverty. The dryness and dullness through which your patient is now going are not, as you fondly suppose our workmanship; they are merely a natural phenomenon.' The second related theme is the human beings horror of 'The Same Old Thing'. Screwtape was telling his trainee, Wormwood, that human beings need change and the 'enemy' - (God) - has made change pleasurable to them. 'He has balanced the love of change in them by a love of permanence. He has contrived to gratify both tastes together in the very world He has made by that union of change and permanence which we call Rhythm. He gives them the seasons, each season different yet every year the same, so that spring is always felt as a novelty yet always as the recurrence of an immemorial theme. He gives them in his Church, a spiritual year; they change from a fast to a feast, but it is the same feast as before' The devilish advice is to increase the demand for unrhythmical change. This way it 'diminishes pleasure while increasing desire. The pleasure of novelty is by its very nature more subject than any other to the law of diminishing returns.' In every sphere of life, the young devil is encouraged to inflame the horror of the 'Same Old Thing'. At the moment we have taken most of our church life online. The learning curve has been steep, but now Morning and Evening Prayers are live-streamed over the internet, there are 'Thoughts For The Day' filmed from people's phones, and the main Sunday services have been recorded and released for us to sit down in front of our screens on Sunday morning: a virtual church in action. Although we have received a lot of positive feedback about this, how long before it becomes the Same Old Thing ? How long before we're bored with that and are longing to return to the 'new-old traditions'? Within the parameters of our skillset, we continue to put huge amounts of work into recorded services to make them the best quality we can offer, but how long will it be before it becomes commonplace and the audience starts agitating for more variety? All of this is predictable and we shouldn't be surprised or disappointed when it comes. So as we enter this stage of lockdown, let's recognise the law of undulation. Boredom and frustration are natural. Let's accept that as normal and not beat ourselves up for not expressing the 'blitz spirit' of our forefathers/mothers - (who were probably bored witless too at times.) Undulation, by its nature involves movement. It's not static. Waves on a beach come and go, and again, THIS TOO WILL PASS. Let's be aware of how our own horror at the Same Old Thing, contributes to our dissatisfaction. The answer is not to keep demanding more and bigger and better, but to realise the intolerance is in us, and ask God for more courage, self-control and patience to persevere. To sum up this period of time, I think it's about just being willing to put one foot in front of the other, knowing this is a marathon not a sprint. We weren't ready for this; we weren't fit and trained, but even crawling over the finish line is a triumph. Stay well and God bless you all.
Our current situation is unprecedented. The media gives us regularly updates about the COVID-19 pandemic: what we should be doing and what we shouldn't be doing. It also records the rising number of deaths. Some are managing their news-intake, knowing that being glued to broadcasts only increases fear and anxiety. However, the news also gives opportunities to get the word out, like clapping our health workers at 8pm on Thursday night, which was a lovely and moving experience. We, on the top of the hill, could hear those down on the Green, and together we could show our appreciation for our NHS. We all want this pandemic to end as quickly as possible and for the loss of life to be minimal. What I write now is in no way a desire to extend this miserable situation. Only Psychopaths would want that. However, while we are in it, and it looks like we may be for some weeks, even months, it offers an opportunity to reflect on how we have been living our lives up till now and whether there are changes we could, or should, make. This will be of no comfort to those who are seriously ill and living with fear, or those whose loved ones have died. I'm not intending to offer breezy, upbeat explanations, when, in those circumstances, lament is the proper human response. Despite the grimness of our circumstances, they do ignite sparks of revelation. First, much has been said about the effect on our environment. The satellite images over China and Italy have shown a huge drop in air pollution. The water in the canals in Venice has cleared and fish can be seen and marine life is coming back to places where it's not been seen in recent years. What will these months teach us about the environment, climate change and our responsibility? We would never have been able to put this experiment into practice but now we are forced to by whole countries going into lockdown. What will we learn about looking after our world for future generations? Another revelation has been the importance of community. Yes, there has been selfishness shown in the stockpiling of supplies but there has also been a great outpouring of people looking after their neighbours, doing shopping for them and checking to see if they are okay. Community initiatives have appeared overnight as people have banded together to support one another, especially the frail and vulnerable. This coverage will inevitably be patchy and recent news items have highlighted the plight of the homeless and those in residential care. Recognising the problem is the first step in finding a solution and a way forward may be found after many volunteers have enlisted to work in their communities. It has been heart warming to hear stories of people connecting with one another: new friends, old friends and family members. Social media platforms and Apps have come into their own at this time. For those with no computer, the old fashioned 'dog and bone' has been equally marvellous. I've never had so many conversations with parishioners, phoning them up, chatting together and saying a prayer at the end. It's been great to keep in touch and I've been told it's been appreciated. However, I'm also aware that this is easier in some environments than others, and it will put a greater strain on some households. The longer we are in lockdown the more challenging the dynamics of some relationships can become. Concerns about an increase in domestic violence and child abuse are real and any well-intentioned Community helpline will need to be aware of the safeguarding implications and be prepared. The economic situation is another huge challenge, and although there is financial relief offered, whether this will be sufficient is highly questionable. Delays may seem reasonable when trying to set up a new process, but not if there's no food on the table for a family. We all have a responsibility to love our neighbours as ourselves, so how might we be part of the solution for them? Pre-COVID-19, life may have been filled with work, leisure and social activities. For most of us, our social circle would have been fairly static and our interactions, predictable. It was the pattern of our daily living. In these days, however, engaging with our communities with more time, effort and altruistic concern may help us recognise what we couldn't see, or didn't want to see, before. Volunteering can make us more empathic. Suddenly, that person's story isn't just something remote that we can forget about as we go off to work, or go out to the pub or gym. In the absence of distractions, it keeps its power and with that comes the potential for change. These days also present an invitation to the Church to change. The challenge we face is 'Singing the Lord's song in a strange land' (Psalm 137). With our church buildings closed and most of our meetings cancelled, clergy have a reprieve from the tyranny of our diaries. That's not to say we're not busy - we are, and we may in the coming weeks and months become even more so, but it's a different kind of busy. Instead of internal meetings, we are engaging more with our communities. Instead of top-down strategy, we are creatively looking at bottom-up ways of being the church in our locality. We have the freedom to be more creative; for such a time as this demands it! Many of us are exploring live-streaming and putting positive, faith-filled content out on the internet in the hope of encouraging people and building resilience. It was sad then to read Angela Tilby's tweet 'I just hope the clergy don’t see this as an opportunity to try and turn themselves into life-streaming media stars. Clergy egoism a serious danger in such times!’ What a shame that this was her take on what is an attempt to support our communities. Looking at the response we have been receiving online, I can't help but think we should be doing more of this - not less, so that we can reconnect and speak the language of the lost generations. We have the gospel to proclaim afresh and in this situation, we may rediscover our vocation and a clearer sense of identity in doing so. In this new climate, we go out into all the world (if only from our web cam) instead of relying on the Church's usual emphasis of filling the pews in a 'come to us' approach. Of course it doesn't take the place of traditional pastoral ministry, but it gives us a new vista through which to see ourselves, our neighbours and God. We have no control over our current situation. We can only control ourselves and our response to it. What a shame it would be if we don't take every opportunity to learn, to reflect and creatively to consider what this period is teaching us. What a missed opportunity it would be if everything goes back to how it was, without any change. God is responding to our intercessions for our world, but the Holy Spirit is also the Spirit of Truth. What is the Spirit saying to the Church in such a time as this? Are we prepared to listen? Are we prepared to act? And when it's all over are we prepared to change?
In the beginning the coronavirus was a news item about something that affected 'over there,' and that wasn't 'over here'. I remember we prayed for China when we heard of the outbreak but we didn't think that it would necessarily have much of an impact here. There is precedence for this. Other serious infections in recent years have had a minimal effect on this island and it was easy to think that COVID-19 might be the same. At first, I have to admit I thought that the measures that some people were proposing seemed rather extreme. Was it all hyped up? Driven by fear and panic? Shouldn't we all just try to get things back into perspective? Then there was part of me that resented all the changes that might come in that would affect my life, my plans and my enjoyment. What would happen to the holiday we had booked? The events that we had planned? The money spent on things that I wouldn't get back? Then the reality kicked in and everything changed. Now the number of Coronavirus cases is rising everyday and the conditions imposed in response to it, are changing accordingly. Italy is held up as the warning sign of where we might be heading, with the whole country in lockdown, while bodies stack up in chapels with no mourners able to attend funeral services. Even those who argue that the threat has been blown out of proportion, would have to concede that the news is very grim. But how do we navigate through this without giving into the fear and panic? Being better informed seems an obvious answer. Knowing the difference between the symptoms of a common cold and the virus can allay some of our fears and stop us panicking at the first sound of a sniffle. The most important piece of information however, has been to make sure that we wash our hands thoroughly and often, and dry them properly too, in order to cut transmissions. This may be seem very basic advice but we cannot take it for granted. (I'm reminded of the unsavoury story of bowls of peanuts becoming germ-ridden because punters in the pub came out of the loos without washing their hands and helped themselves to the bar snacks, leaving behind more than they took.) Regular hand-washing with soap or anti-bacterial gel, is more than a choice now, it's an imperative. This pandemic brings into focus the importance of community and it highlights the fact we are all connected. It matters what we do. It affects everyone. Our choices can help protect our neighbours or they can make them more vulnerable. So when we act purely for the benefit of 'me' and 'mine', it can have an impact on the 'we' and 'us' of community. This has been shown by the stockpiling that has emptied shelves and taken away the resources of others, in order for me and my family to be okay. Frankly, it is irresponsible, and in the case of the run on loo roll, it's also ignorant. Alongside incidences of selfish behaviour however, there has also been cases of care and kindness. People watching out for one another and making sure that those who are self-isolating through symptoms or fear and vulnerability, have what they need. Where I live the Community shop is implementing two services to those who are housebound and in need. They will get home deliveries of essential groceries and of their prescriptions. I accept that this is easier in a small village like ours but care can be extended in other ways, in other contexts, with some thought, compassion and determination. Churches are leading the fight in intercessory prayer for their communities. We have been praying ever since we heard of the first outbreak and our prayers have grown and will continue to grow over time. We cannot underestimate the importance of prayer in addressing the situation. We may not be in a position to carry out pastoral visits to people in the same way we usually do, but we can still keep in contact by phone. We can also offer prayer that way. By mobilising one of our best resources - our people - we can build a greater network of pastoral support, inviting everyone to check on their neighbours and try to fill in the gaps in the wider community. Sometimes just knowing that there is someone to call, if needed, can make a difference to our sense of connectedness and reduce the anxiety and loneliness of isolation. In the current circumstances we have had to adjust our expectations and accept the disappointments of lost 'lifestyle', recognising the challenging times we are living in. It is a minuscule cost compared with those who have lost loved ones or who sit and wait to hear news from Intensive Care Units. We salute our health care workers for all that they are doing. They need our prayers but also our support in helping 'flatten the curve' of the progression of this infection so they, and frontline services, are not overwhelmed. It calls for solid common sense about self-isolation if infected. It is a 'we' and 'us' choice not a 'me' and 'mine'. Businesses everywhere will also be taking a hit (unless of course you are a hand sanitiser or anti-bacterial soap company.) Economically things are going to be hard and many of us will be anxious about keeping a roof over our head and food on our table. The knock-on effect of cancelling events and services and paying customers staying indoors is significant. It gives us another reason to build networks in our community to ensure that our care and compassion extends even further. We will get through this but it's much better if we do it together. Even if we end up in lockdown like Italy, let's take comfort from the heart-warming footage in social media of each isolated resident, or family, standing out on the balcony of their flat in apartments buildings playing instruments or singing together. It was a sign of community and togetherness at a time of national crisis. It was the victory of 'we' and 'us' over 'me' and 'mine'.
In the light of the clergy abuse scandals in the Church of England are we ready to have a different conversation about power and influence?
Happy New Year! With the excesses of Christmas left in the backend of December, we look to January with a renewed sense of vigour as it heralds a new beginning for us. It is often the time where we decide to take something up that we think will lead to self-improvement: 'I'm going to take up running'; 'I'm going to learn a foreign language'; 'I'm going to learn to meditate' or even, 'I'll feel better about my life if we buy those stylish built in wardrobes that I saw on the telly'. Or perhaps we would rather give something up instead: I'm going to give up ... chocolate/alcohol/smoking/ moaning - fill in as applicable and then stipulate the time frame... for a year/a month/a week/see how I do - (delete as appropriate.) Whether we add or subtract from our life, the purpose is the same. We all think this is going to lead us to that place of happiness where, come 2021, we look back with the rosy glow of satisfaction and bask in our glorious success. Or perhaps not. Things may not go to plan. January is the time for good offers for those wishing to join a gym and get into shape. Unfortunately a cut-price annual membership fee doesn't work out so well if it's stretched over only five visits; and as for the cross trainer, that's the most expensive clothes hanger we could have bought. Despite our good intentions, we discover that it is a challenge to keep our commitment up as the year progresses, and yet still we set our targets. It is the triumph of hope over reality. This year we have an even greater pressure. It is the turn of the decade. Entering into the 2020's requires a plan that is even more spectacular, offering a transformation with a capital 'T'. We know the adverts: The 'new You' is waiting to be released (for only £49.99 per month....). We can all be seduced into signing at the bottom of the page with promises of entry into the land of milk and honey (skimmed and fat-free of course) only to crash and burn some months later when it doesn't deliver, or more precisely, we simply decide to give up. Perhaps I am being unnecessarily cynical. There are those who take on fitness regimes, eating plans, learning programmes and the like, and they do make a go of it. In fact, I know some of those who have kept their excess weight off, or whose running efforts have moved them on to train for marathons. I've know many more however, who have given it a go and then decided it was all too much like hard work or it just simply wasn't for them. I am one of them. To succeed in anything, one needs to have focus. From my perspective, there was no point in thinking about losing weight in December. As a vicar with lots of Christmas events awash with mulled wine and minced pies, it would have required a gargantuan amount of self-control to say 'no thank-you' whenever I was offered anything. There is also my mother's special Christmas cake that needs to be fed brandy regularly, or the lemon crunch pudding, a tradition on Christmas Day. There is the glass (or two) of Prosecco waiting, and frankly, it would have been rude to say no. Why would I possibly practice self-denial? It is Christmas after all. January however, has no such claim on us. There is a solidarity in the communal shriek as the bathroom scales tell their secrets. It forces us into a group bonding session as we plan our new year regimes together. For me, I have to go cold turkey for a while. It is the only way. I cannot have Lindt white chocolate in the house and I will have to avoid cake like the plague. One of my very generous parishioners bought me for Christmas the charming book 'The Boy, the Mole, The Fox and the Horse' by Charlie Mackesy. It reminds me of Winnie the Pooh and there is a particularly discussion between the boy and a cake-obsessed mole who has fast become my hero. It says: 'Do you have a favourite saying?' asked the boy. 'Yes' said the mole. 'What is it?' 'If at first you don't succeed, have some cake.' 'I see, does it work?' 'Every time.' I realised at that point that this parishioner knew me better than I realised. I saw myself incrementally adding on the pounds, one sweet mouthful at a time and knew that if I wanted to make a change, I needed to start in my head, not my stomach. It's an obvious thing but we are mind-body-spirit creatures and our challenges, particularly around food, relate to more than our bodily appetites. I'm sure we can all relate to coming home after a bad day and tucking into something that makes us immediately feel better - opening the crisps or pouring a glass - without giving it a second thought. Comfort eating and drinking is very common and if we want to make changes we have to tackle the 'why' as well as the 'what'. There's no point in working extremely hard to shed the weight if, after our next disappointment, we make a beeline for the fridge to fill ourselves up. Some analysis is required if we want to make more permanent changes, because it's true that ' wherever you go, there you are'. When we think about New Year resolutions we may major on our physical appearance and health, our weight and our fitness, but perhaps the key to real transformation doesn't start with the body. The boy in Charlie Mackesy's book says: ' Isn't it odd. We can only see our outsides, but nearly everything happens on the inside.' Much of what the world tells us about ourselves, or even what we say about ourselves, is about lack. It's about not being good enough in some way. We search out things that we hope will lead to a greater sense of satisfaction in our lives and distract ourselves from the pain of feeling we don't measure up, but we never really get to the nub of the matter. To do so might make us feel far too vulnerable, and it's much more comfortable to focus on our improved waistline, our new hobby, or haircut, than address the ache in our hearts. This Sunday, The Church is celebrating the baptism of Christ. Here is Jesus at the beginning of His ministry being baptised by John in the Jordan. He hasn't healed anyone yet, he hasn't delivered them or raised anyone from the dead. He hasn't preached to the crowds. There has been very little of note that we're told about - in Matthew's gospel anyway, and yet the voice from heaven says: 'This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.' (Matthew 3: 17). There is no lack in this story, only love. There is no goal-setting to prove oneself or gain favour, there is only freedom and acceptance. If there were anything that would be worth focusing on this year, and even this decade, it would be getting this understanding of God under our skin, into our minds and hearts, and letting it fill our spirits and our lives. It is this that would lead to the greatest transformation. As the characters in Charlie Mackesy's book say: 'What's your best discovery?' asked the mole. 'That I'm enough as I am,' said the boy.'
It's been a while since I've posted a blog because I've been busy. Not just 'normal vicar busy' and that's bad enough. I've been film editing and when that happens I can sit in front of my screen for HOURS at a time. The world disappears in the process. Even though, at ten minutes to the hour my Fitbit twitches plaintively in the hope that I will get up and move around, if I'm in the zone - forget it. I'll ignore it. It is not until I'm reminded by a stomach rumble, a call of nature, or a sore neck or tight shoulders, that I give in to the need to take a break. I know it's a bad habit but there is something incredibly immersive about this process. My husband is astounded that someone, who has as low a tolerance for detail as me, can be quite so focused on this task. Yet to my mind, this is a creative construction that leads to an art form which is then shared with others - and this means it matters to me. I've also found a creative way to combine my passion for film making with community engagement and the story of God. This is what has been absorbing me lately and I hope it will bear fruit on Christmas Eve. Like most small village churches, it's difficult to forge a vibrant youth ministry. Some hark back to the golden days of the past when the shops weren't open and Sunday sport didn't have the same dominance. Youth groups were in a more healthy state, if only because it was a chance to hang out with your mates as well as meet with a potential boyfriend or girlfriend. As I didn't grow up in the church, it was irrelevant to me until I went to college. Since being ordained however, it has become a greater focus, as more and more children and young people have little or no contact with the Christian faith. In our community, we had been concerned about the decline in numbers of children coming to Church the moment they go to secondary school. Homework, sports, activity clubs and social and family time seem to take priority over Church attendance and I understand that. Society has drifted further away and the Church is still focused on getting people to come to a Sunday service so that we can count the youth in our pews. This is encouraged by the National Church, with numerical growth being a prime indicator of congregational health. I wouldn't say that it is irrelevant, but I might like to point to the importance of other factors, namely depth, rather than breadth. At one point we considered engaging a Youth Worker but it all became too complicated in the end. Sharing someone with one or two other parishes, competing for festival services and having several lines of accountability would need a lot of management. It would also probably set the poor candidate up to fail. We are not kind to our Youth workers when we heap on them the sole responsibility for turning around a ministry that has been declining for years. It's not surprising that many only stay a year or two with those kinds of pressures on their shoulders. We didn't go forward with that, but we had a great team of volunteers, including one of my teenage sons who did a great job of fulfilling the role of the 'cool young person' in that position. It was clear to me that we needed something that would interest the young people in our community. This wasn't about providing entertainment and going bowling or having pizza parties - fun as they may be. Young people want to choose their own friendships groups to do those things with, and probably don't want middle-aged women their mother's generation, trying to 'get down with the kids' to provide it for them. Another downside of relying on the 'entertainment' factor is that the moment they get a better offer, they will vote with their feet. Treating Young People as consumers means that they have the power to consume something other than what is offered, and that may mean going elsewhere. It's their choice because it's a buyers' market. It has long been my belief that when we do what makes our heart sing we connect with our unique gifting from God. It is given to us for our personal benefit, but also for the wider community. It is connected to our sense of vocation or calling, and the passion that we have when we express it, inspires others. St. Ignatius of Loyola said '‘ Whatever you are doing, that which makes you feel the most alive – that is where God is.’ For me the answer is to enter into the drama of telling stories and film making. When we made our Remembrance film, ' Distance' and shared it with years 5 and 6 of the local primary school we were fascinated by the number of questions we got, particularly from the boys, about the process of film making. We wondered whether we were missing a trick with this and so we dipped our toe into the water by offering a one afternoon session on Stop-Motion Animation. Two groups of students made short films that were edited and premiered in our Family Service the following week. We also entered the films in the Into Film monthly competition and got some great feedback for the children. Into Film is an amazing organisation ( www.intofilm.org ) that aims to increase literacy in schools by using film to help children write reviews and understand plot, narrative and character. The second arm of the organisation is to help children make films, with online guides, short films and training for teachers. Even though we weren't a school, Into Film were happy for us to run a club from our church. After the enthusiasm and success of the afternoon workshop, we decided to push the boat out further. I joined up with a few friends and we offered the opportunity to create a modern nativity film which would then be shown at our Christingle service on Christmas Eve. We had twelve 10-14 year olds and were joined by a couple more later, working together on this project. We had two introductory sessions on how films are put together, starting with the ideas of character, plot and script formation. As we were looking at the modern version of the Christmas story, we had to get under the skin of the usual nativity scene and ask questions about what the story was really about. Who would be the equivalent of the shepherds? Where might Jesus be born today? Most of our Young People do not regularly attend Sunday worship and wouldn't have opted to go to an R.E. lesson or listen to a talk in Church, but taking apart the narrative this way was essential to the project. We were doing theology together, even if it didn't seem like it. Taking their ideas, we put together a basic script and then offered workshops on props, costumes and locations; sounds and soundtrack; filming and lighting and lastly, editing. There were auditions for the actors and the filming dates were set. It has been a real eye opener for our Young People to see how much is involved in putting a film together but they have engaged well with the whole process and there is an incredible buzz about the Premiere of ' This Way Up' on Christmas Eve. There have been times in the process when I have felt that I knew nothing and asked myself the question: how could I mentor Young People when I was struggling to keep up with the fundamentals of film making myself? But that's the point: we are all learning together and from one another. If I'm on just one page ahead, then that will do for now. This isn't a ministry where we are doing 'for' or 'unto' the Young People; we are respecting them as individuals and the input that they give. We are helping them to find their niche in the process and giving them space to try out several options. In return they have become stakeholders in the project: it is their film. When they have claimed the project for themselves, there is no forced growth or commitment. Instead, their sense of belonging occurs organically. Although the process has been challenging at times, it's also been massively rewarding and worthwhile. Even for those who may only do this once, they will always remember the process and the making of 'their' film. In this way, it's a positive investment in their lives and a reflection of Kingdom values. I wrote in the parish magazine ' There may be some who feel this isn't 'churchy' enough, especially if it doesn't increase young 'bums on seats' but my argument would be this is about seeing the worth of our young people, as whole people, made in the image of God and for His Glory. When we come alongside them, walk with them, and invest in them, isn't that what the Christmas story is all about? Isn't that why Jesus came?' To see the short film (4.30 minutes) of the process behind the making of our modern Nativity film please click here
Autumn is the time when the long-running, popular series' start. The Apprentice and Strictly are for me essential viewing. Both shows rely on the candidates learning something, performing, receiving feedback from experts and then being whittled down week by week until there is a winner. It's a formula that seems to work, with The Apprentice having fifteen seasons under its belt, and Strictly reaching 17. Each pulls in millions of viewers. Each Season of The Apprentice we are introduced to the candidates with a ridiculous sound bite of self-promotion. It is as if the programme makers have said 'say something that expresses your megalomaniac credentials'. If the candidates really were as good as their self-promotion, they most likely would not be queuing up to fight for Lord Sugar's £250K business investment, they'd be doing it on their own already. But this is not just about entrepreneurial skills, it's about entertainment. If you want good telly, first you have to interview the hopefuls and find an explosive mix of characters. Then you have to drop them into a luxury house, (for this read 'shark tank') to live together while they compete for the prize. It's not surprising that there is a staggering amount of bitching that goes on and we can't blame it all on the editing when the candidates are content to make their comments direct to camera. Strong characters that clash build the interest of the audience. If everyone liked and respected one another and worked together to achieve the best possible outcome, it would showcase good business practice but it would be less of an entertaining, reality show. They all know 'there can be only one' (apart from one year when there were two - but that was a one-off). Each candidate is going to try their hardest to ensure that it's them. The most challenging week has to be the Interview Week. This is a legendary make-or-break week where the final five submit to what must be the most aggressive, confrontational, interview of their lives. It's a terrifying, exhausting, enjoyable and cringe-worthy viewing experience all rolled into one. There is no place to hide from Lord Sugar's advisers. They research everything and challenge anything. Each business plan is gone through meticulously with an eye for exaggeration and unrealistic assumptions. When naivety or bravado inflates profit or growth projections, the axe falls and it does so in a humiliating way. The candidate who had previously swaggered into the process in their power suit, creeps out with their tail between their legs. Although it's compelling I wonder why anyone would subject themselves to such an experience. It's brutal. One important aspect that is very important to Lord Sugar is ' can the candidates listen and learn from the process?' From their behaviour, most candidates seem to think that they should have all the business skills already. Cue someone saying: ' I have the qualities to be your business partner, Lord Sugar, for the following reasons....' When it appears that most of the bragging is unsubstantiated, the hapless candidate often resorts to saying 'I've got more to show you, just give me one more chance' followed by more begging. What would make more of an impression is showing their ability to listen, take advice and learn. This thinking is supported in the book of Proverbs that says in Chapter 12 verse 15: ' The way of fools seems right to them, but the wise listen to advice.' 'Amen' say Lord Sugar, Karren and Claude in unison. The judges on Strictly give feedback after every performance to each competitor. They will pick out areas for improvement, giving advice to work on their frame or their footwork (Shirley's speciality), or to be careful of their 'free arm', or 'their hand shaping' (Craig's usual bugbears.) The Judges don't always agree on what they have just watched but they all attempt to balance up the quest for technical competency - and in some cases - excellence, with the performance factor of entertainment. Craig Revel-Horwood may be painted as a 'panto-style' villain but I'm sure this is just for the benefit of television. If you listen to what he says he is usually spot-on with his assessments and his positive response becomes all the more worth pursuing. In terms of a competition, the mark out of ten will position the celebrities on the leader board but the advice is more important if they want to develop as a dancer. That's the point. The mark tells them what they have achieved but the feedback helps them to keep growing. Once again we find ourselves back in the book of Proverbs and the advice to pursue wisdom. Solomon writes: ' Listen, my sons, to a father's instruction; pay attention and gain understanding. I give you sound learning, so do not forsake my teaching.' (4: 1-2). We all need mother and father figures in the areas we hope to grow in. We need people to help us to be better than we would be by just doing our own thing, but a necessary ingredient in the process is humility. Proverbs once again hits the nail on the head with: 'Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but whoever hates correction is stupid' (12:1) Being corrected and having the discipline to put what we have learned into practice is the way that we improve. Under the tutelage of these fathers and mothers we can get better ourselves. Their input is like the picture for this blog: a precious gift that if respected and cared for, will grow and develop in our hands. I had an example of this recently. Jane, the Chairperson of the Orpington Video Film Makers club, gave me a page of feedback after I showed the group a film that I had put together for Remembrance last year. The film Distance was a drama based on a poem written by Elizabeth Miller about a young couple who were separated by war, communicating with each other only by letter. It was made to commemorate the end of WW1. It was very moving and was used extensively around that period in schools and churches. I had put the film 'to bed' satisfied, feeling it was the best it could be. Then the feedback came and I began to wonder whether it was worth trying again to see if I could re-cut it. I knew I couldn't re-shoot any of it, so I would have to focus on using other bits of footage and thinking more about shots, effects, and other additions. I listened to the advice because it was helpful and constructive and offered from someone who has had many more years experience in making films than I have. It proved to me how valuable feedback can be. The advice given undoubtedly improved the quality of the film and for that I am most grateful. It seems that the wisdom of Solomon still stands. The new cut of our Remembrance film can be viewed here
Just in case you were in any doubt - which I'm sure you weren't - the main blog photo is not me. However, I am brave enough to post the real non-photo shopped image, having come out of the closet in my new bikini onto a beach in Crete. I wasn't going to wait around. I had to get it over with. On Day One - the bikini was revealed. I was anxious, thinking I was going to face the crowd, but I soon found out that nobody was bothered. And why should they be? It wasn't remotely newsworthy, except to me, my husband, and perhaps those who might have read part one of this blog. The momentous unveiling was a massive anti-climax. I then wore it most days while we were away, slowly feeling a little more confident, or at least, less conspicuous. Sitting by the pool or on a beach gives us a chance to people-watch without looking like we're doing so. We look up from our book, readjust our lounger, put on sun screen or saunter over to the bar for a cold drink, quietly noticing our fellow holiday-makers lying like lizards basking in the sun. We pretend we're not watching, but we are. Our sun glasses and hats hide our true gaze. (Mr Carr's observations from his people-watching can be found here. ) It's rare that you are faced with so much exposed flesh in one go, unless you're a naturist of course (and if you are, you're probably wondering what all this fuss is about anyway.) For those of us who are more shy about these things, it is an opportunity for comparison and judgment making. There - I've said it. I wish it weren't true but it is. I was acutely aware of how my first anxious days were caught up with sneaking those looks at others and somehow compiling an invisible leader board in a bid to feel okay about myself. There was one particularly beautiful young woman who was definitely at the top. I looked at her thinking 'I wish I had her....' - ( fill in the missing body part as required.) Then I concluded, rather unkindly, that she was only in her early 20s; she was meant to be beautiful. Age and gravity would take their toll in time. Another thing I noticed was how many vastly overweight people there were - sometimes twice or three times the size of me - all stuffed into less material. The first few days were a revelation but it was also a shock to acknowledge the unpleasant nature of my internal monologue. Was all this judgment aimed at making me feel better? Less self-conscious? An opportunity to normalise my own lumps and bumps and somehow take me higher up that leader board? If so, it wasn't doing the trick, because criticising others never does. It's a mean spirited activity. One that has its roots in an insecure heart. So although my first reaction might have been to look around and say 'Oh - I don't think so Madam!' I was determined that I was going to change the script. In a bid to push back against this anxiety-driven behaviour, I posted the above photo on my Facebook feed. Many of my friends liked the post or wrote encouraging comments. It was wonderful to receive them but I know that it would have only taken one slightly critical remark to wipe out all that good feeling. Isn't it always the way that we can receive ten good comments but we fixate on the one that is less so? We give it so much attention, weight and power that we allow it to neutralise all that is positive. It becomes the only comment we remember because we play it over and over in our minds. Our second maladaptive behaviour is practising the art of dismissal. Although we may secretly long for someone to give us some positive feedback, when it comes we bat it away with a stick. We minimise it and look for ways in which to question its authenticity. So with the photo above I might say 'well it's posed isn't it? It avoids many of the more unflattering angles available.' Suddenly all those positive comments are losing their power to raise me up. Most of us are our own severest critics but, on the internet especially, there are others who seem to get a kick out of putting the boot in. The usual 'trolling' remark would be something like: 'You look fat and ugly and you should go and kill yourself.' I'm grateful I haven't yet received that kind of comment but many do. It says much more about the insecurities of the person making the comment than it does about their target. The real issue that came out of this is that other people cannot give to us what we need. Living at the mercy of someone else's 'LIKE' or positive comment is giving them power over us. We become embroiled in the invisible leader board, competing with others and creating and storing up needless anxiety. It's not enough to say that 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder' because that would still make it hostage to another person's subjective viewpoint. Power would still be in the other's hands. Beauty comes from within and sometimes it takes a very different form from what our culture tells us to expect. Svetlana showed me this, this week. I don't know for sure that she was Russian but, as the resort was very popular with that nationality, I will call her Svetlana for the purpose of this blog. She was crammed into a tiny, canary-yellow bikini. She had a beautiful face and several spare tires around her middle. She wouldn't have been featured on the cover of a health and fitness magazine and she was bigger than most plus-sized models I've seen, but she certainly had body confidence. In fact she wobbled delightfully like a comely belly-dancer when she moved. The word to describe her is voluptuous. Svetlana loved life and clearly loved her body - you could tell. There was no self-conscious covering up or awkward tugging at her bottoms to ensure acres of flesh weren't on show. They were - and she didn't care. Even as a straight woman, I was drawn to look at her and Mr Carr definitely noticed her. ( ' I'm only human' he confessed with a smile.) Somehow Svetlana embodied the fact that God had created her and said ' It is very good!' So what better accolade than that is there? Better Kingdom Thinking is a good antidote to the body image anxieties that most of us suffer from but in order to do this we have to begin to unlearn what we've been taught by our culture first. The Apostle Paul picks this idea up when he writes to the Christians in Rome advising them ' Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind' (Romans 12: 2). It's great instruction but he wrote it nearly two thousand years ago and we're still not getting it.
