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Breakfast with Jacinda

The sixth of February is Waitangi day – a national holiday and a celebration of the Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti o Waitangi), the founding document of Aotearoa New Zealand. This year, we had the privilege of attending a dawn service at the Treaty Grounds in Waitangi – as the sky slowly brightened and the sun rose over the Bay of Islands. We joined others in reflecting on the country’s history and its ongoing journey to truly embrace the unity, justice and hope enshrined in the treaty.

After the service, we (along with a few thousand others) were treated to a wonderful outdoor breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs and hash browns graciously served by Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern and several of her fellow Ministers.

It was a wonderful, simple and genuine gesture that, for me, somehow embraced the spirit of that treaty, and the character and integrity of this national leader. There was something very human and natural about her smile as she dished out dollops of scrambled eggs that seemed totally in keeping with the genuine commitment we’d heard in her voice earlier in the week as she spoke at a Powhiri (traditional Maori welcome ceremony) on the same spot.

Seeing and hearing Jacinda in person has confirmed to me that she is a true leader: someone who is prepared to listen; who readily acknowledges that she hasn’t got everything right, but is determined to do her best; who sincerely wants to be held to account by those who have been marginalised or discriminated against.

Today, I have been reflecting on the Beatitudes – the qualities of character espoused by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. One translation of the Aramaic word, ‘blessed’ used by Jesus is ‘ripe’:

Ripe are those who find their home in the Spirit;

they shall be attuned to the inner reign of God.

Ripe are those who mourn for people who are suffering;

they shall be united inside by love.

Ripe are the gentle;

they shall be open to receive strength from the earth.

Ripe are those who hunger and thirst for justice;

they shall be encircled by the birth of a new society.

Ripe are the compassionate;

upon them shall be compassion.

Ripe are those who are consistent in heart;

they shall contemplate God.

Ripe are those who plant peace in each season;

they shall be named the children of God.

Ripe are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice;

the reign of God is in them.”[1]

This concept captures something of maturity, fullness, wholeness and goodness, a sense of having reached a stage of the fullness of the person I am meant to be. And above, all of nourishment – those who are ‘blessed’, ‘ripe’ bring nourishment and goodness to others. The qualities of the Beatitudes: meekness, poverty of spirit, gentleness, grieving, are not what we typically expect of our politicians. But when we do see them, they are truly nourishing.

[1] This version of the Beatitudes is taken from a translation from the Aramaic text of the New Testament by Dr Patricia Fresen. A fuller exposition of this can be found at https://bridgetmarys.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-beatitudes-as-translated-from.html

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A Prayer for the New Year

As we leave 2020 behind and enter the new year, I am very aware of the grief, loss, loneliness and struggle this past year has brought to so many people. Like all of us, I hope that 2021 will be better. I look forward in hope to a curtailing of this pandemic and the effective roll-out of the vaccines; I long for more consistent and compassionate political leadership, and for meaningful in-roads to tackling our global issues of prejudice, social inequalities, abuse and violence, climate change and the exploitation of our environment.

I recognise, though, that I cannot change any of this myself and that the only thing (person) I can change is me.

So, with that in mind, this is my prayer for the new year (with thanks to Pádraig Ó Tuama and Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community):

I begin this year with trust and hope:

Honouring this life that God has given

With all its potentials and possibilities;

Knowing I am created for loving encounter;

Knowing the year can hold love, joy, healing and forgiveness;

Beauty, truth and goodness.

I hold – but hold lightly – my hopes, plans and expectations.

I lay aside my need for affirmation and acclaim;

For power and control;

For comfort and security.

I make room for the unexpected –

May I find wisdom and life in the unexpected.

Help me to respond graciously to disappointment;

To hold tenderly those I encounter;

To be fully present –

To you, to your creation, to my fellow creatures,

To each present moment.

I resolve to live life in its fulness;

To welcome the people who will be part of my year;

To greet God in ordinary and hidden moments;

To love the life I am given.

–

(and if I express it as a prayer, rather than a new year’s resolution, then I can blame God if I don’t quite get there!)

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Moving On: An ancient manifesto for a new world order

‘The signs of haunting are all around us. Conflict rages between groups and nations. The gap widens between the poor and the rich. So many are displaced, left out, or left behind. Due to our actions, even the future of the planet is threatened.

If we aren’t disturbed, then we haven’t been paying attention.

The time has come for us to be WOKE.

The system is broken, and we are that system. If we want change, it will have to begin with us – with our hearts and minds, our actions and our voices. Let’s imagine and make a whole new world.

A growing number of us have begun to wonder if the beatitudes might contain the keys to our liberation. These ancient sayings, spoken by Jesus, offer a nine statement manifesto for a new world order. Hidden in plain sight and so often ignored, even by those who call themselves followers, the nine beats offer a radical alternative to the broken system we’ve created. In them we hear the whispers of another world.’

(Mark Scandrette – The Ninefold Path).

As our country continues in some form of lockdown and social distancing, and just taking hesitant steps towards the easing of restrictions, we at Breathing Space sadly remain closed to the public.

We are, however, continuing our daily evening prayer – every Monday to Friday at 5.30pm.

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Finding a path through the wilderness

Over the next few weeks we are going to focus on the Beatitudes – those incredible, unsettling words of Jesus. We will be using some material from the Nine Beats Collective which we discovered at Greenbelt a few years ago and which bring the Beatitudes alive in a fresh way that is full of meaning for our world today – particularly as we dare to dream of a better world beyond the realities of our current situation.

As we enter into this rhythm, we encourage you to take a look at the material of The Ninefold Path, including some inspiring videos, reflections and suggestions for putting this way of life into practice.

And join us for our evening prayer, live at 5.30pm, or catch up later, on our Facebook page.

(you don’t need to have a Facebook account to join us, just click on the link).

We have made some tweaks to the liturgy we are using, drawing on material from the Corrymeela Community in Northern Ireland and from the New Zealand Prayer Book. We hope you find the refreshed words helpful and inspiring. You can download our liturgy from the resources section of our website.

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Some further reflections on life and death

Last week our dear friend Arlene died: peacefully in her bed on a Sunday morning.

Eight years ago my wonderful wife Helen died: suddenly and unexpectedly at the airport in Manila.

Both of them had lived good and full lives, were deeply loved, and had brought a lot of love to a lot of people. Neither of them ‘deserved’ to die so soon.

I have been thinking a lot recently about life and death. And I’m very pleased to be alive. And healthy, loved, and with a meaning and purpose to my life. I am pleased to have more time in this life with Lois, with Esther and Joe, with my friends, my family, my work and all that I’m involved in. Not that I’m afraid of dying. While I have no wish to die prematurely (I still have so much I want to be and to do with this life, so many relationships I want to enjoy) or to have to suffer, and I have no desire to leave Lois, Esther, Joe or anyone else feeling bereaved, I think I can genuinely say that when the time comes, I can embrace death.

If the faith that has meant so much to me throughout my life is true, then I truly can look forward to ‘meeting my maker’ – to knowing fully, just as I am fully known; to being embraced by love itself; to being set free from the pain, the mistakes, the troubles of this world; and to experiencing resurrection – and the promised new heaven and new earth in which there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain.

In the week before she died, Helen seemed to have glimpsed something of that promise; she spoke of a deep sense of her own belovedness. And in a strange way, she seemed to sense an invitation to join in that eternal dance of recreation.

So, although the pain of losing Helen, and the grief we feel over Arlene’s death are no less because of it, it isn’t hard to picture both of them dancing together in that new creation.

And what if it is all a delusion? What if I’ve got it all wrong and there is no God, no resurrection and no new creation?

I do wonder that sometimes, and I have to accept that is a possibility: after all, I can’t prove that my faith is true.

But if that is the case, then really I have lost nothing, and gained everything anyway. Whether I die tomorrow or live another 40 years, I know that I have lived a full, fun and meaningful life. This faith has given me meaning and a purpose to my life. It has given me a focus for the gratitude and wonder that I feel: gratitude for the love I’ve known, for the many blessings that have marked my life; wonder at the beauty, truth and goodness in our world. The narrative of the Bible has provided a frame that seems to make some sense of life, provides a realistic perspective on the suffering, violence, lies and greed that trouble our world, and above all, provides a hope that this suffering isn’t the way things are meant to be, and that ultimately there will be an end to all that and an overturning of the way things are. And, for me, seeking to follow the life and teachings of Jesus has, I believe, both enriched my own life and been the motivation to seek to bless others and leave this world a better place, even if only in a tiny part.

For whatever reason, or lack of reason, I seem to have once again been granted a new lease of life, and I am really looking forward to whatever lies ahead.

So, for now, I will take each day as it comes, grateful to be alive. I will continue to grieve over the loss of those I love and over the ongoing ugliness, selfishness and violence of our world. And I will continue to appreciate beauty, goodness and truth wherever I may find it. So that, whether my life from now is short or long, I hope I shall have lived abundantly.

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Why am I (still) here?

It is a fine, crisp February morning. I am sitting at my desk, looking out on the garden at Breathing Space. Outside, a large family of long-tailed tits vies with other (blue and great) tits, robins, a chaffinch, and some gold finches for space at the many bird feeders scattered around.

A week ago, I was sitting in the assessment unit at Walsgrave Hospital with nothing like the same inspiring view.

I have now lived through two life-threatening incidents, both of which could have been fatal. Eight and a half years ago, while cycling from Land’s End to John-o-Groats, a mini-stroke caused by a carotid dissection put me in hospital with a loss of speech and paralysis of the right side of my body. Last week, it was unstable angina caused by a near-complete blockage of one of my main coronary arteries. On both occasions I have been up and about and back home within days.

So, with all that in the background, and feeling good to be alive and at home, I walked our labyrinth on Sunday. And as I did so, the question came to mind:

Why am I still here?

The obvious, pragmatic answer is because I just happen to be living in the UK in the early 21st century. As a result of which, I can enjoy all the benefits of a functioning health system, advances in medical care, and a National Health Service which, for all its struggles, continues to provide excellent health care, freely accessible to all, and delivered by competent, compassionate and caring staff. I am one of the privileged few – something I don’t ever want to take for granted.

Another, equally pragmatic, answer would be that (in spite of some rather dodgy cardiovascular genes) the healthy, active lifestyle I have led has made me resilient to these fairly major knocks to my health. While I haven’t attempted any other long-distance cycle rides, I do keep active and manage a reasonable amount of gentle exercise several times a week; I eat and drink in moderation; and I have never smoked, so perhaps I am still moderately fit. Indeed, in spite of a bit of middle-aged spread around my waist, the ECG technician last week described my torso as ‘a perfect specimen’! Admittedly, that was in the context of wanting a model on which to teach a student how to position the ECG leads, but I’m happy to accept the accolade.

But of course, neither of those answers really get to the heart of the question.

I have pondered it frequently over the past few days, and I’m not convinced there is any really meaningful answer.

It doesn’t make sense to put it in terms of merit: if, somehow, I had done something that meant I deserved to go on living, then it implies that my wife, Helen, who died unexpectedly eight years ago, somehow didn’t deserve it; and that makes no sense.

Another way of looking at it would be to conclude that God (whoever or whatever God may be) somehow ‘hasn’t finished with me yet’ or has some further purpose for me in this life. To me, that seems both theologically and psychologically suspect and doesn’t fit well with my perception of who God is. It seems to me that such a conclusion conveys a very utilitarian view of God, who only values us for what we contribute, rather than loving us for who we are. That puts a lot of pressure on me to go through the rest of my life trying to figure out what that purpose is, and living with the worry that if I don’t get it, God may suddenly decide to take my life away.

So, putting aside those philosophical/theological musings, I rather like Snoopy’s approach to the questions of life and death:

And, with that perspective, perhaps the question is not so much, ‘Why am I still alive?’ But ‘How will I live the rest of my life?’

I think, perhaps, I need another wander round our labyrinth with that…

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Adventures of an armchair activist: Gratitude, generosity and greed

One of my greatest pleasures at the moment is to spend an hour each morning in quiet contemplation, gazing out of the window. It is the height of summer and the garden at Breathing Space is flourishing. The bees buzz busily among the flower heads; the tall grasses wave their heads in the morning sun (or glisten in the gently falling rain); the raspberries and blueberries are starting to take over from the strawberries and currants to give us our breakfast fruit; everything is lush, vibrant and green.

 

Building Barns

It was in the midst of all this abundance and generosity that I read, the other day, the hard-hitting parable of the barn builder:

The farm of a certain rich man produced a terrific crop. He talked to himself: ‘What can I do? My barn isn’t big enough for this harvest.’ Then he said, ‘Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll tear down my barns and build bigger ones. Then I’ll gather in all my grain and goods, and I’ll say to myself, Self, you’ve done well! You’ve got it made and can now retire. Take it easy and have the time of your life!’

Just then God showed up and said, ‘Fool! Tonight you die. And your barnful of goods – who gets it?’

(Luke 12: 13-21 The Message)

 

When I took early retirement I thought we might need to do some very careful budgeting to live on a much lower income. In fact, Lois and I have found ourselves in the strange position of having far more than we either need or want. My financial adviser will tell me that I have to invest wisely to get a good return, to set aside contingencies for the future, and to ensure I pass on a good inheritance to my children. But all of that seems rather hollow: self-congratulatory; resting on my laurels and my well-endowed profession; dominated by excessive comforts; and adding to the already gross inequalities in our society.

It seems to me that the counters to the consumerism, self-absorption and sense of entitlement that seem to dominate our culture are gratitude and generosity: gratitude for all that we have, for the simple things in life, for the goodness and beauty that is all around us; and generosity with what we have been given – learning to share and to bless others as we have been blessed.

 

Learning to live with gratitude and generosity

So how do we live with gratitude and generosity in a culture of entitlement?

As with so much, we can only ‘make the road by walking’. So here are some of the things we are exploring:

  • Getting close to nature. Lois and I are blessed through where we live – being able to enjoy the garden at Breathing Space and to share it with others; spending time working with the soil and the plants; putting out food for the birds and creating havens for wildlife; going for walks in the countryside around us.
  • The ‘prayer of examen’. We often end each day by each reflecting on the two or three things for which we are most grateful in that day. It generally isn’t hard: even when one of us has had a bad day, there is usually something we can find for which we can give thanks.
  • Living simply and within our means. I recognise that we are wealthy and privileged, and not everyone will be in the same place. For us, though, it is fairly easy to live within our means; it is less easy to resist the constant drive to acquire more things, to get the latest gadget, or to treat as essentials what are really luxuries.
  • Enjoying treats and celebrations. We do try to make a point of taking opportunities to celebrate and to enjoy special treats: going to the theatre; relaxing with a nice glass of wine; having a special meal with family or friends… We have been blessed, and I don’t want to spend my life feeling guilty about that, but rather to be grateful, enjoy the blessings we have, and share them generously with others.

I am reminded of the story of the pious woman, who lived a life of austerity and spent her life in constant service of others. Arriving at the gates of heaven, God met with her and asked her just one question: ‘Did you enjoy the world I made for you?’

  • Conspiring to bless others. We came across this wonderful phrase in one of Brian McLaren’s books. I love the idea of looking for ways to bless other people – whether through gifts or little acts of service. We try to give generously, recognising that we could do more. We have been blessed with the generosity and support that others have shown to us, at different points in our lives, both individually and now through Breathing Space. Now, at this stage of our lives, we have both money and time and want to use those to bless other individuals and causes.
  • Supporting charities that promote justice, compassion, and care for creation. It is always hard to choose which charities to support – with money or time. There are so many out there – all good causes. We have tended to look for smaller, local charities that are clearly making a difference: ones that are involved in supporting vulnerable families and individuals; ones that are addressing deep-seated problems such as homelessness and poverty; ones that are working for our environment; and ones that are engaging with local communities in less wealthy areas of the world.
  • Investing ethically. One of our biggest challenges is deciding what to do with the extra capital that we have. We don’t want to just be sucked into the trap of feeling we need to insure ourselves against any possible bad-outcome scenario; nor do we want to buy into a system that ultimately just benefits those who are already wealthy. So we have opted for ethical banking through Triodos, and we are exploring the possibility of partnering with Hope into Action – a charity that provides affordable housing for vulnerable people, linked in with support from local church communities. Someone once said that the process of discernment is not so much about choosing between good and bad options, but about choosing between different good options. So there will be those who promote investing wisely for a high return with which we can then be more generous in our giving; others who take the opposite view of ‘sell all you have and give to the poor’. Perhaps we can find a middle way, which stems from both gratitude and generosity.

 

 

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On walls, ramps and ditches

There were few places where it was more than 3-4 feet high, and for much of the 70 miles we walked, there was nothing remaining to be seen. Nevertheless, walking the length of Hadrian’s wall from Newcastle to Carlisle was an incredible experience, and for those Roman legions, slaves and paid labourers, 1900 years ago, building the wall was an incredible achievement.

The wall itself, 8-10 feet wide by 10-20 feet high, is just one part of the overall complex of defence and communication. The full structure consisted of a ditch, the wall, a military road, and the vallum – a ditch flanked by two large mounds. In many places it is the vallum that is the most prominent surviving feature. Along the length of the wall were milecastles and turrets and several forts and towns adjoining the wall. The surviving parts are impressive in their scale, the engineering involved, and a lingering beauty that blends with the wild open moors and crags of the Pennines, stretching away to North and South.

There is a sense of enduring history in the neatly aligned stones of the wall, and the once-ordered barracks, baths and storehouses of the forts we visited along the way. And that sense was carried forward in the glimpses into the way of life of these Roman soldiers and the citizens of Britannia. It was also carried forward in the snippets of Victorian industrial, archaeological, imperial and philanthropic history that we encountered walking through Newcastle and at other points along the way.

 

 

 

 

 

There was also a sense of timelessness in the wide blue skies, the stretching vistas, peat bogs and ancient woodlands that we wandered through along the way. And for us, stepping away from our ordinary lives, the activities of Breathing Space and my academic pursuits, we were able to put it all aside and simply enjoy being in the moment, shouldering our packs, and tramping each day’s miles.

(Not that it was all pure bliss, though. There were times when our shoulders ached from the weight of our packs, our feet were weary and confined in our boots; times when the path just seemed to stretch on and on with no prospect of a rest, or when we longed for a cool, refreshing drink or an indulgent, frothy coffee.)

 

Meanwhile, back at Breathing Space, time had not stood still. Our faithful team of builders, Mick, Ryan and Jack were beavering away at the next stage of our alterations. Over the previous weeks they had built their own walls. On a very different scale, but still impressive in the beauty of their craftsmanship. Far from being a statement of imperial pride (‘I’m going to build a wall…’), and a defence against unwanted intruders, the walls our team have built at Breathing Space are the retaining walls for our wonderful new access ramp – there to welcome people; walls that lead people in to this place of peace and beauty.

The ramp itself is now finished and already has made a huge difference to the ease of access. And work has now started on the next stage – to create two new flexible-use rooms in the loft and a new, open entrance hall.

 

 

 

 

 

We have been so blessed, through all this, by the generosity of so many people. To date we have received over £11,000 of the £16,000 we need in sponsorship, donations and pledges from individuals and churches. We have also been really blessed by some unexpected little gifts – a ‘jar of smiles’, a pot of flowers, several little notes and messages encouraging us in what we are seeking to provide through Breathing Space. Thank you so much to all of you who have contributed. If you would still like to contribute in any way, please click on the ‘donate’ button below, or get in touch with us at breathingspacecoventry@gmail.com

 

With the ongoing building work use of Breathing Space is limited at the moment, but we hope to be up and running again in September, with greater opportunities, particularly for those who might otherwise find it difficult to find spaces of peace and beauty in their lives – keep an eye on the Breathing Space website for details.

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In the footsteps of Hadrian

I’m not sure what Hadrian would have made of us setting off to walk his wall just for the sheer joy of doing so; nor even in order to raise money for Breathing Space – a place dedicated to peace and stillness. While he was generally considered to be one of Rome’s more benevolent dictators, he nevertheless (at least according to Wikipedia) had ‘a capacity for both great personal generosity and extreme cruelty’ and (perhaps not unlike other leaders with imperialist ambitions) had a penchant for building walls.

Still, as Lois pointed out to me this morning, he probably never walked his own wall, and he is not here to either condone or condemn our endeavour.

The summer solstice has come and gone; the dreadful British weather seems to have taken a turn for the better; my two big projects (the Triennial Review of Serious Case Reviews and designing a child death review programme for Jordan) are both complete; work is progressing on our the access ramp and alterations to Breathing Space; and we have both cleared our diaries for the next week.

So, fortified with a breakfast of strawberries and raspberries from our garden, we set off for Newcastle. Tomorrow we will start our 70 mile hike across the country to Carlisle.

We are really grateful to all those who have donated or pledged to sponsor us for our fundraising for Breathing Space. So far, we have raised over £5,500 towards the cost of the alterations. Once the work is complete, it should allow us to be much more accessible to all who are seeking a place of beauty and stillness, and overall we should have far more flexibility in how we can use Breathing Space to serve others.

If you would like to contribute towards this project, please click on the button below.