Refugee: A sonnet for Epiphany by Malcolm Guite

This sonnet by Malcolm Guite brings a contemporary relevance to Herod’s slaughter of the innocents in the first century. Click on the link to listen to the poem.

Refugee

We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,

Or cosy in a crib beside the font,

But he is with a million displaced people

On the long road of weariness and want.

For even as we sing our final carol

His family is up and on that road,

Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,

Glancing behind and shouldering their load.

Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower

Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,

The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,

And death squads spread their curse across the world.

But every Herod dies, and comes alone

To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.

December 20, 2015

Where is my God?

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God.

For I will yet praise him, my saviour and my God.

Psalm 42

And yet my soul is troubled. Downcast. I long for something more.

Where is my God?

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

Where can I go and meet with God?

I lay in bed last night, troubled and disturbed by judgemental attitudes – in the church and in our society – attitudes that condemn and blame, that offer no hope. That say to the messy, troubled parents at Dudley Lodge[1], or to other young people, pushed out by the very society that condemns them: “You’re not good enough”, “You don’t deserve this.”

But I don’t see that. They are beautiful, mixed-up, traumatised kids who surely deserve something better than what life has dealt them. Surely they deserve a hope and a future – for themselves and their children (and isn’t that, after all, what Dudley Lodge is all about – offering a hope and a future?) Not to be written off, cast down, given up on.

Where is my God for them?

I hate the abuse, the violence, the control that messes people’s lives, that destroys both the abuser and the abused; that says to its victims (abuser and abused), “You are filth, scum. You are no beloved child of God – created, beautiful, in God’s own image. NO – you are worthless, ugly, not worth the bother.”

How can I go “with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng”?

Where is my God when, behind closed doors, women and children scream out in silence?

And where is my God while the bombs fall on Syria? While hundreds of thousands leave their homes in terror, risking their lives in search of something better? Or stay, amidst the gunfire and explosions, desperately longing for a peace that will not come?

All your waves and breakers have swept over me.

[1] A local family assessment unit where Lois and I have recently started spending some time each week with the residents and their babies.

December 19, 2015January 25, 2016

O Radix: to become more rooted

Lois and I have been inspired and challenged today by Malcolm Guite’s sonnet, O Radix – based on one of the seven advent ‘O Antiphon’ prayers.

So much of our lives end up being un-rooted, superficial, flitting around in ever-increasing busyness. As we looked back on 2015 (a truly good year), we realised that we, too, have filled our moments up with things: trips away, activities here and there, clutter, doing rather than being. As Guite puts it,

“We surf the surface of a wide-screen world

and find no virtue in the virtual.”

So as we look ahead to the year to come, with all its promise, we are wondering how we can make it more rooted. Here are some of our thoughts – how much we will achieve this remains to be seen:

By strengthening and valuing our family roots – spending time with parents, children, grandchildren;
By being more present to the present – being more engaged in what we are doing, saying no a bit more, not spreading ourselves too thinly;
By putting down our roots where we are – here in Coventry, trying to do more locally, cutting down on time away;
By caring more for our local community and environment – trying to build a bit more simplicity into our lives, respect for others and for our world.

O Radix – Malcolm Guite

All of us sprung from one deep-hidden seed,

Rose from a root invisible to all.

We knew the virtues once of every weed,

But, severed from the roots of ritual,

We surf the surface of a wide-screen world

And find no virtue in the virtual.

We shrivel on the edges of a wood

Whose heart we once inhabited in love,

Now we have need of you, forgotten Root

The stock and stem of every living thing

Whom once we worshiped in the sacred grove,

For now is winter, now is withering

Unless we let you root us deep within,

Under the ground of being, graft us in.

December 12, 2015

Presenteeism and the culture of indispensability

After stepping down from my clinical work in November, I received a lovely card from one of my patients thanking me for being his doctor and expressing his hope that ‘my new doctor will be as nice as you’. Six weeks on, and we are no closer to finding a replacement, nice or otherwise! So, while I don’t regret cutting back on my work and dropping my clinics, I do feel both saddened and frustrated: my decision is leaving my patients unsupported, my colleagues stretched, and my secretary struggling to troubleshoot and keep things ticking over. I knew this was a possible, perhaps even likely scenario, but inevitably I feel some responsibility for that.

And yet, I am not indispensable.

Why doctors don’t take sick leave

A leader in this week’s BMJ highlighted how doctors tend to have much lower sickness absence rates than other healthcare workers (typically 1-1.5% compared to 4-5% for all healthcare staff). There are many reasons why this might be so, but one of the most significant ones is a culture in which doctors avoid taking time off sick so as not to let others down – whether their patients or their colleagues. This is admirable to a degree, and yet it betrays a deeper, potentially destructive culture of indispensability. We have a tendency to believe that the service won’t function without us. That, in turn, feeds a driven-ness that leads to long hours, apparent busyness and a kind of bizarre pride in always being overstretched.

This isn’t limited to doctors but seems to be a culture that pervades all professions.

It seems to me that this is an inherently dangerous and damaging culture. Clare Gerada, medical director of the Practitioner Health Programme, commented that

“a common personal impact on doctors who are ill is that what goes isn’t their competence, it’s their compassion for patients”

Being overstretched

I suspect the same is true, not just for doctors who are ill, but for all of us when we are overstretched. We can carry on performing our roles, but find it hard to offer that human touch: something that has perhaps been reflected in some of the scandals in care homes for the elderly and vulnerable adults in recent years.

I suspect that another element that goes by the board when we are overstretched is humility. When we are constantly struggling to get things done it becomes increasingly difficult to acknowledge our own limitations, to take time to reflect, to learn and improve, to accept our need of others. And ultimately, to recognise and value the very real contributions that we, uniquely, bring.

Ultimately what goes is also competence, though typically this comes some way down the line. The reality though is that a driven culture of indispensability threatens effective working and patient safety. I still remember the feeling, half way through a 104 hour shift as a junior doctor, sitting at a nursing station to calculate a drug dose, and realising that I couldn’t even think straight enough to carry out a simple 2-digit addition without the aid of a calculator, and recognising just how easily I could make a potentially fatal mistake.

That is why I am supportive of my junior doctor colleagues in their dispute with the government over a new contract. The proposed industrial action is not just about pay – I would find it difficult to defend if it were – but about patient safety, and about challenging this pervasive culture with all its inherent dangers.

Challenging the culture

And I, too, will continue to challenge it, in my small way, by attempting to live and work in a way that isn’t indispensable. I know I will continue to feel some responsibility for the gaps created by my cutting down my hours. But I know, too, that since doing so I have felt more motivated and inspired, and been able to give myself more fully to those aspects of my work which are continuing. I hope, ultimately, that will be of far greater benefit to my colleagues and to the children and families I am seeking to serve.

December 8, 2015November 18, 2016

To a semi-circle: seeking wisdom

Alone among the shapes I meet,

you rest, content and incomplete;

no rounded symmetry I see,

nor perfect immortality.

Your half-formed body, foetal soul

seems broken, wounded, far from whole.

Your pair of angles doesn’t quite

square the circle, set things right.

Yet, should I look beyond such flaws,

open up my blinkered doors,

perhaps I’d see through different eyes:

your gentle promise, silver-bright

shining half-moon in the night.

December 4, 2015

No terrorist sympathisers nor trigger-happy war mongers: reflections on Britain’s decision to extend air strikes to Syria

Reflecting on the events of the past few days, I feel both saddened and encouraged. After 10½ hours of impassioned debate, our elected members of parliament agreed, in a free vote, to extend British air strikes from Iraq into Syria, joining the USA and France in striking out against the awful group who call themselves Islamic State.

I feel saddened, because it seems clear to me that there will, inevitably, be civilian casualties from these air strikes. Those will include innocent children, whose lives already are marred and now have one more terror to add to those surrounding them. I feel a sense of despair that this action cannot achieve what its proponents seek – the elimination of Isil – but will merely exacerbate their resolve to fight back. In his concluding speech in parliament, Hilary Benn spoke of Isil:

“They hold us in contempt. They hold our values in contempt. They hold our belief in tolerance and decency in contempt. They hold our democracy, the means by which we make our decision tonight in contempt.” He pointed out their “belief that they are superior to every single one of us in the chamber tonight.”

Powerful words, and no doubt true. But it doesn’t take much imagination to hear almost identical words being spoken in a room of Isil leaders in Raqqa – about the leaders and people of the United Kingdom, United States, or France.

I long for an end to the terror and injustice being inflicted on the people of Syria.

But I fear that this action will exacerbate rather than eliminate that suffering.

However, I do, at the same time, feel heartened by the way in which this decision has been made. And I am grateful for the privilege, the immense and awesome privilege, of living in a land where such a decision has not been made lightly, behind closed doors, or by an unapproachable group of omnipotent tyrants. I feel grateful that I was able to write to my MP (who, incidentally, opposed the motion. Whether my letter in any way influenced his decision, I do not know, but I remain grateful for the freedom to write); others were able to stand outside parliament to express their views; I and others were able to blog and post our views on Facebook; to accept and respond to comments from both sides.

And in Westminster itself, no-one was taking the issue lightly.

Reading some of the words that were said, both in the House of Commons and the House of Lords, it seems abundantly clear to me that this was not a vitriolic debate between a bunch of trigger-happy war mongers and their opposing terrorist sympathisers. Rather both sides seemed to approach their arguments from a deep desire to do what is right. And yes, this was far from perfect, there were no doubt mixed motives on both sides, and there was, at times, enough vitriol both in and out of the chambers, but that was far from being the tone of the debate.

Arguments in favour of air strikes

So the arguments in favour of air strikes were mostly framed in a sense of justice, wanting to put an end to the terrorising regime of Isil; not wanting to abandon those who are suffering on the ground in Syria, to “walk by on the other side of the road” (although that is an interesting twist on the parable of the good Samaritan who stopped to bind up the wounds of the one who had been brutally attacked, not to beat the hell out of those who had attacked him); wanting to protect the freedoms and democracy that we hold so dear; and longing for a more peaceful world, free of terror. Those are attitudes and beliefs with which I sympathise.

Arguments against air strikes

Likewise, those speaking against air strikes were longing for a more peaceful world, one that is free of terror and violence; they, too, want to protect the freedoms and democracies of our society; they want an end to the injustice and suffering of the ordinary people of Syria. They are not ones who are burying their heads in the sand, or walking by on the other side of the road. Rather, they were calling for alternative approaches which would get more to the root of the problem, without further escalating the violence.

A more comprehensive approach

So a free vote committed us to military action. I believe, for most, if not all, those in Parliament, that vote was not taken lightly.

And now our planes are flying over Syria, dropping their weapons of destruction. In his speech in the House of Lords, Archbishop Justin Welby, while believing that ‘just war’ criteria had been met, warned that the UK could “end up doing the right thing in such a wrong way that it becomes the wrong thing”.

That is a warning we need to reflect on. He called for a far more comprehensive approach. While we cannot now undo the decision that has been made, surely we can put equal effort and resources into seeking the further non-violent actions that are needed to truly defeat terror.

November 29, 2015

Fighting terror with terror: a letter to my MP

Dear Mr Cunningham,

I am writing to you as I am increasingly concerned by the way the debate in Parliament on military action is going, and the direction in which Mr Cameron seems to be taking our country in his proposed response to the Paris terrorism attacks.

We have all been horrified by the indiscriminate brutality of the Paris attacks. Like the rest of the population, I would not want to see such atrocities take place in Britain, and I would want to stand in solidarity with our neighbours in France.

However, I cannot see how military action in Syria can do anything but escalate the crisis, and cause even further suffering for thousands of innocent people. I understand that the death toll in Syria after four years of civil war is now over 250,000, nearly half of them civilians, and over 12,000 children. The lessons of Iraq tell us clearly that, no matter how technologically advanced our weapons, the reality is that we cannot accurately target terrorist groups in these countries, and that the more the fighting escalates the higher the civilian death toll will rise. If we respond to the terrorist threats with airstrikes and bombs, innocent civilians and children will inevitably die. We cannot take that risk.

It is also difficult to see how military action could possibly do anything other than strengthen the cause of terrorists. Writing in the Guardian on 27.11.15, journalist Jürgen Todenhöfer pointed out that in 2001 there were perhaps a couple of hundred terrorists in the Hindu Kush; following George Bush’s war on terror, and the loss of as many as one million Iraqi lives, there are now an estimated 100,000 terrorists posing a threat to the international community. Isis was apparently created six months after the start of that invasion. If the West continues to drop bombs on Syria, killing civilians in the process, this will only provide welcome ammunition to Isis and result in the alienation and radicalisation of yet more disenfranchised people.

The lesson is clear: we cannot beat terror with terror.

I recognise that there are no easy solutions to the threats posed by terrorist groups, nor to the ongoing oppression of unjust regimes in Syria and elsewhere. However, there are alternatives to the escalation that would come with air strikes. I would suggest four key strategies in which we could positively engage: to stop Gulf states delivering weapons to terrorists in Syria and Iraq; to help Turkey seal its long border and prevent the flow of new fighters joining Isis; to support moves to give the Sunni population in these countries a voice; and to fully invest in social and economic development in Syria and its neighbours.

Wardah Khalid, Peace Fellow in Middle East policy at the Friends Committee on National Legislation in the States makes similar proposals:

‘Create a comprehensive, multilateral strategy with our allies, including the Arab League and the U.N., that includes such tools as a regional arms embargo to prevent weapons from going into the wrong hands, penalties for purchasing illicit oil that funds the Islamic State group and more money for diplomacy and humanitarian aid. A political solution to Syria and its President Bashar Assad must also be revisited, as the power vacuum there is what allowed radicals and their foreign backers to first take hold.’[1]

So I would ask you, for the sake of the many suffering children and adults in Syria, and for the sake of our own national security, to please vote against any military action in Syria.

Yours sincerely

[1] http://www.usnews.com/opinion/blogs/world-report/2015/02/18/stopping-the-islamic-state-group-without-the-bombs?src=usn_tw

November 29, 2015

An Invitation

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

Jesus Christ – the Message, Matthew 11:28-30

Learning to live

in the unforced rhythms of grace

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion/the pressure of work/the stress of family life?

It seems so hard to find any real rest these days. We rush about from one thing to another, and life never seems to stop. It is so easy to feel burned out.

That is why I so love this invitation.

And I think it is an invitation to all of us.

Not just those who claim to be Christians.

Not just those who are super-spiritual and somehow above the rest of us.

This is an invitation for anyone – Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Atheist, Agnostic, or just plain not sure.

It is an invitation for anyone who is just feeling tired.

Come and take a real rest

Learn to live freely and lightly

Discover the unforced rhythms of grace