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!)

June 30, 2018

Reflections on retirement 1

A new stage in life

So, it is finally happening. In three months’ time I will be retiring. So I thought it would be a good opportunity to reflect on what this is like; what it means for me; my experiences of 31 years in the NHS, 21 years as a consultant paediatrician and 13 years in academia; and on what lies ahead for this next stage of my life.

Pausing to contemplate this recently, it felt to me that this wasn’t so much retiring from work as moving on to a new stage in life, developing further my unique sense of calling or vocation, and embracing new opportunities, freed from some of the constraints of paid employment.

I do feel privileged to have been able to pursue a career in paediatrics and more recently academic child health, and to have worked in what remains one of the best health institutions in the world. It has been a great blessing to have built up expertise in a field I enjoy and feel passionately about, and to be able to use some of that expertise for children and families. And now it feels even more of a privilege and blessing to be able to retire from paid employment and develop further in these and other areas.

What am I on the planet for?

One of Lois’ favourite questions as a spiritual director is ‘what are you uniquely here on the planet for?’ As I reflected on this recently at a Retreat Association conference in Derbyshire, it seemed to me that the answer to this revolved around two core motivations which are working out in three key areas of my life.

Belovedness

The first core motivation revolves around a deepening sense of my own belovedness: recognising myself as a beloved child of God, unique, valued, and (in spite of my weaknesses and imperfections) with much to contribute, much to enjoy and much to learn; and from that, longing that others, too, might know something of that same belovedness and worth.

Hope

The second core motivation is one of hope: a longing for a world in which there is no more death or crying or mourning; where there is no more violence and abuse.

So how do these two motivations work out in the different dimensions of my life?

Safeguarding children

A search to better understand abuse and neglect and how we as a society can better protect children and support families
Using my experience and knowledge to support others in the challenging work of child protection
Continuing to work that out through my ongoing research into child abuse; continuing my involvement with BASPCAN and Child Abuse Review; offering my expertise to the new National Safeguarding Practice Review Panel; and as a new opportunity, exploring the possibility of a PhD in theology, focused on a deeper understanding of abuse and neglect

Preventing child deaths

Seeking to better understand the circumstances and systems that lead to children’s deaths, to learn from them, and to work to prevent future children’s deaths
Supporting professionals and strengthening systems for child death review
Supporting families who are coping with the death of a child
Working this out with my ongoing input to the Lullaby Trust and SUDC-UK, and continued engagement with others in this country and overseas who are involved in child death review; and in a new opportunity, working with UNICEF and the National Council for Family Affairs in Jordan to develop a child death review system for their country

Creating breathing space

With Lois, to develop Breathing Space as a safe, sacred space where any who come can experience peace and beauty, and know something of their own belovedness
Sharing something of the blessings with which we ourselves are blessed
Seeking to live sustainably with respect and care for creation, and a commitment to justice and peace
Working this out through our home, retreat house and garden; our involvement in spiritual direction; running retreats and quiet days; being able to study and write, to be creative, and to enjoy the goodness and joy of our families and friends

Quite how all this will pan out remains to be seen, but at this stage, with the prospects of a more relaxed pace of life, and new opportunities opening up to me, it feels good. Roll on October!

April 12, 2018April 12, 2018

That’s how the light gets in

And so the 10^th BASPCAN child protection congress is over. The banners have come down, the delegates have gone their various ways, and the PowerPoint slides deleted from the desktops.

It has been an incredible four days: a time of inspiration and challenge, of hard grind and relaxed friendship, of shared laughter and shared tears.

I have been inspired by meaningful research, emerging ideas, and examples of innovative practice. I have had some of my own perspectives challenged. I have been encouraged equally by young and enthusiastic researchers, and by committed practitioners who have walked many years. I have been overwhelmed by the generosity, commitment and hard work of all those who have contributed to the congress, and the feedback and encouragement of so many participants. And I have been amazed at the vigour and resilience of children, young people and adults – survivors in the fullest sense of the word.

For me, though, the essence of this congress was captured in the fragile, vulnerable daffodils that decorated our plenary lecture hall. In spite of all our efforts, they kept flopping over and looking muddled. And yet, they continued to bloom, bringing their bright colour and life into that hall.

Perhaps we are all a bit like that – fragile, vulnerable children; wounded, hurting survivors; struggling practitioners and academics – dependent on each other for encouragement and support; and yet, in spite of all our limitations, bringing hope and life. And united in our longing for a world in which no child ever has to experience the terror and pain of abuse or neglect, and where each of us is valued as a unique, wonderful and beloved person.

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There’s a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in

– Leonard Cohen

January 8, 2018

Winter

Dark season of hope

earth silent, broken, hurting

on tiptoe, yearning.

February 27, 2017

Crocuses in the Gutter

I might have missed them

had not the lingering morning storm left me

head-bowed, eyes-down

as I walked the dog.

A little row of crocuses in the gutter:

tiny,

fragile,

reminding me

that even in the cast-off debris of our world

hope can spring forth.

Beauty,

simplicity,

life.

December 29, 2016December 31, 2016

Rebellions are built on hope

Rogue One

Earlier this week I went to see Rogue One, the new Star Wars movie, with two of Lois’ grandchildren. It is a great movie and fills in one of the crucial gaps in the whole Star Wars nonet (although perhaps it should now be a decet?)

How did the Rebel Alliance get hold of the plans for the death star in the first place?

The audacity of hope

The overriding theme of the movie is one of hope: Rebellions are built on hope. It is hope that keeps the rebels fighting for what they know to be right. In spite of the seeming futility of their task; In spite of the overwhelming odds of failure that the droid K2-SO keeps reminding them of – they keep striving to overcome.

Hope is audacious.

And yet, the characters in the movie cling to that hope, ultimately sacrificing themselves for it.

A crucial turn in the narrative occurs when the Council of the Rebel Alliance votes on the course of action they must take. The options before them seem bleak: they can rally arms against their invincible foe, using violence to combat violence; or they can submit to the Empire’s dominion, each person looking out for themselves and hoping to stay under the radar enough for some sort of oppressed existence.

A third way

Or they can trust the audacious testimony of one young woman, Jyn Erso, who claims to have been given a message of hope. That third way will inevitably lead to sacrifice with no guarantee of success.

In the end, the Council rejects Jyn’s third way and each chooses to go their own way: to fight or to submit.

Except for a small group of rebels who have the audacity to hope.

Hope in a post-2016 world

I wonder whether – in our post-2016 world – we, too, have similar choices ahead of us. The violence and greed that has seemed to dominate our global culture threatens to overwhelm us all. Democracy seems to have failed and our politicians have let us down. Fundamentalist beliefs continue to rise, exacerbating the terror, injustice and oppression.

In the face of all that we can respond with yet more violence and greed: individuals protecting their own; nations responding with an escalation of violence, a renewed arms race that promises yet more destruction. Or we can accept the status quo, believe the myth that there is nothing we can do, and live within the prevailing culture, each one of us making sure that we are ok, and never minding everyone else.

A non-violent rebellion built on hope

But as we go into 2017, perhaps there is a third way: the way of rebellion built on hope.

And maybe that is what the Christmas story brings: the unbelievable testimony of a young woman who had a vision; of insignificant shepherds who heard an angel’s message of peace and goodwill; of a vulnerable baby who became a vulnerable man, proclaiming a message of non-violent resistance – neither submitting to the oppressive culture of his day, nor responding to it with yet more violence, but bringing instead a gift of hope.

This third way is a way of sacrifice, of going against the status quo, but I believe it is the only way of hope.

It is the way of people like Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, the Dalai Lama, Aung San Suu Kyi, Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

It is a non-violent rebellion built on hope.

December 8, 2016December 8, 2016

The Beatitudes: The promise and the praxis of hope

Re-reading the Beatitudes

Last week I read again the Beatitudes – Jesus’ famous pronouncements of blessings in his Sermon on the Mount. I’m not sure why I had failed to see it before, but this time it was staring me in the face: The Beatitudes fall into two very disparate groups.

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

(Matthew 5: 1-10)

The smaller group (Beatitudes 1, 2 and 8) offers a promise of hope to those who are victims – of suffering, violence and greed. The other five present, instead, a challenge to all of us to take on attitudes that counter our dominant cultures of violence and greed and to become part of the solution rather than the problem.

Seeing the Beatitudes in this light seems to me to address one of the fundamental problems thrown up by these sayings – that they just don’t seem to be true. The reality is that those who are poor in spirit, those who mourn, and those who are persecuted just aren’t blessed in any of the usual senses of the word. And even those who are meek, merciful, pure in heart, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness (justice), and the peacemakers far too often seem to be trampled on or taken advantage of rather than blessed.

But if we see the Beatitudes as holding out a very real promise of hope for victims, and a very pragmatic challenge for the rest of us, they start to carry a very different meaning.

The promise of hope

In speaking to those who are poor in spirit, those who mourn, and those who are persecuted, Jesus seems to be speaking directly to those who are the victims of suffering, violence and greed:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: those who are broken, crushed, weighed down; the victims of abuse, those who have had their spirits trampled on, who have been fed the lie that they are worthless, unloved and unlovable; those suffering with mental illness, depression or fatigue; those who are lonely, hurt by broken relationships; the disabled, the homeless, those with addictions; those rejected by society as somehow unworthy.
Blessed are those who mourn: the grieving, those who have lost loved ones; those who mourn the loss of their own innocence; those suffering from physical illness; those who have lost their homes or possessions; those made redundant or who have lost a sense of their own purpose or significance in life.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness (justice) sake: the innocent victims of violence and war; the displaced, refugees; those who are unjustly exploited or oppressed; the victims of racism or other prejudices.

And, in Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, Jesus seems to go even more directly to the point, pronouncing blessings on those who are the victims of inequity, exploitation and injustice:

Blessed are you who are poor
Blessed are you who are hungry now
Blessed are you who weep now (Luke 6: 20.21)

And to all of these, Jesus seems to proclaim the promise of a future hope: that their present lot is not the last word: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven; they will be comforted; they will be filled; they will laugh. Jesus offers the hope of something far better to come – of a time when there truly will be ‘no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ (Revelation 21: 4)

The Praxis of hope

Which brings us then to the second group of blessings – those which challenge us to a new way of living, the praxis of hope – in which we adopt attitudes of non-violence, sacrifice and humility, attitudes which counter the suffering, violence and greed of our world.

And so Jesus challenges us to be meek – to stand up, non-violently for truth; to hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness, to speak out on behalf of the oppressed, to challenge the injustices of our society; to be merciful not judgemental; to be pure in heart, not hypocritical or duplicitous; and to be peacemakers.

By creating and maintaining our cultures of individualism, consumerism, fear and blame, we all (me included) carry responsibility for those who are harmed by or cannot cope with the inequalities and pressures they create.

None of that is easy – I know that I am so bound up in our culture that I too contribute to the ongoing injustices of our world and exploitation of the earth’s resources, that I enjoy the blessings and privileges of education, wealth and power, while others go hungry, are displaced and exploited. But the alternatives seem to be either that I continue to buy in to our individualistic, consumerist mentality, and remain a part of the problem, or I strive, continually to live Jesus’ way of non-violence (Satyagraha) and become a blessing to others – part of the solution, the praxis of hope.

It may be a hard path to take, but it is the only way that we can see the kingdom of heaven, that we can be filled, to see God in other people and in our world, to receive mercy and for all of us to become children of God.

November 13, 2016November 12, 2016

Re-reading Malachi: a sermon for Remembrance Sunday

We live in a messed up, hurting world.

Remembrance Sunday

Today is Remembrance Sunday on which we give thanks for those who gave their lives for the peace that we have enjoyed for the past 60 years; we remember the horror of war – the pointless loss of innocent lives; we pray for those who live with the ongoing reality of violent conflict; and we strive for greater peace and freedom.

In Bristol, 19,240 shrouded figurines were laid out in memory of the British soldiers who were killed on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, 1^st July 1916.

100 years later: from 9/11 to 11/9

As we commemorate 100 years from the Battle of the Somme, it is patently clear that we continue to live in a messed up, broken world. We just need to think of the events of this week with the US election; or the Brexit vote just 5 months ago; or the terrible reality of the terrorist attacks of 9/11 and all the ongoing terrorism since; or the living reality of the conflicts in Syria and elsewhere.

We seem to be surrounded by violence, intolerance, bigotry and greed: if anything such values seem to be more prominent, and it is easy to lose hope and sink into despondency.

Reading Malachi

The book of the prophet Malachi is the last book in the Old Testament. It was written around the time of Nehemiah and the re-settlement of Jerusalem after the exile.

And it is a book of judgment:

See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch (Malachi 4:1)

This makes it a really hard book to get to grips with and to reconcile with our understanding of God and the reality of the world we live in. It comes across as a book that incites religious bigotry and division.

A divided world

We like things to be simple, to make sense according to our sense of right and wrong. And so we tend to divide the world into two groups: the righteous and the evildoers; those who are in God’s kingdom and those who are not. And we like to believe that God loves the first group, but hates the others; that God will bless the righteous, but the evildoers will be destroyed.

That was perhaps how the Israelites saw things, and we can read Malachi from that perspective:

‘I have loved you,’ says the Lord. ‘Yet I have loved Jacob but I have hated Esau; I have made his hill country a desolation and his heritage a desert for jackals.’ (Malachi 1:2-3)

We can read Malachi in that light – divide the world into those who are good and those who are evil; those who are in the kingdom and those who are out.

Religious Bigotry

There are a number of problems with that:

It doesn’t match reality. It is not the evil who suffer for their violence and greed, all too often it is their innocent victims: the young men sent to the trenches of WWI; the innocent civilians in Coventry, Dresden, or Hiroshima; the millions of Jews sent to the gas chambers; the families of those killed in action in Afghanistan or Iraq; the millions of refugees fleeing inconceivable horrors under Islamic State…
Rather than leading to peace, it exacerbates the violence that separates. It is the crusader mentality that prompted those in the middle ages to march out against the infidels, and closer to home, was used by George Bush and Tony Blair to justify military action in Iraq – ‘we are right and God is on our side’. Donald Trump and his rhetoric in the election campaign; the racism that we saw in this country post-Brexit
It infiltrates our churches so that we become exclusive and judgmental. Think about how we, as a church treat people who don’t necessarily conform to our beliefs or behaviour: Muslims, gay people…
It blinds us to the reality that we are just as much to blame.

Are we really that different from those who perpetrate violence and injustice? We like to portray them as evildoers: child abusers, wife batterers, paedophiles, corrupt bankers and stock brokers, bigoted white Americans or Daily Mail readers… The reality may be that we are not that different.

An unfolding word: Re-reading Malachi in a different light

Psalm 119 gives a different perspective on how we can read the words of the prophet Malachi:

The unfolding of your words gives light (Psalm 119:130)

Perhaps, then, a crucial part of challenging religious and any other bigotry is being prepared to have our own prejudices and preconceptions challenged.

So perhaps, in the spirit of this ‘unfolding’ of God’s word, what we need to do is re-read Malachi, in a different light: in the light of Jesus, the Messiah, the sun of righteousness who has risen with healing in his wings; the one who came, not to build walls, but to break down the dividing wall of hostility that separates people; the Prince of Peace, who came to overcome violence and evil, not with yet more force and power, or with tactics of shock and awe, but in humility, non-violence and grace.

Perhaps we need to see the prophecy of Malachi, not so much as a condemnation of those who are different, the evildoers, those who are not in God’s kingdom, but rather as a reflection of the cry of God’s heart: God’s longing for justice and healing; God’s longing for all to know that they are loved and accepted; and God’s longing for all to accept the cleansing and healing that he offers.

If we do that, we will find that most of the words of judgment spoken in the book of Malachi are, in fact, spoken against those who are ‘in’: the people of Israel, God’s chosen people; and particularly against those who claimed to be religious.

A message of hope: the sun of righteousness

We will find also that it is a message of hope: of the sun of righteousness coming with healing on its wings – extending healing to all those who are abused, persecuted or oppressed; those who are hurt by the violence and greed of this broken world; those hurt by the judgments of us who claim to be part of God’s kingdom.

For you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings. (Malachi 4: 2)

This is not some soft, wishy-washy message of bland acceptance, ignoring the reality of injustice, violence and greed that is in each one of us. God will bring judgment, and it will be like a fire. But it will be like the fire that burns up chaff and stubble in a harvested field, or like the refiner’s fire that burns up impurities in silver or gold. The farmer will only burn up the chaff and stubble in a field that he cares for, the refiner will only put precious metals in the fire. It is not a fire of torment or destruction, it is a purifying fire and one that leads to justice, to healing, to peace, to joy.

So, if the prophet Malachi were to come to our churches today, what do you think he might see? What might he be challenging us to? Where might he be confronting some of our bigotry, complacency or preconceptions?