Blessed are the Peacemakers

A well known story, told in many ways in many places (google it, it's all over the place...) goes a bit like this:

There was rich man who lived in the desert. He had so much stuff, and one of the things he was very proud of was that he had 17 camels. These camels were a sign of status, a sign of his riches, a sign that he was a man to be looked up to and respected. 

The rich man was coming to the end of his life and came to the point where he thought he had better make a will. He decided to leave half his wealth to his only child, a third of his wealth to his only grandchild and a ninth to his only nephew. This seemed fair and everyone was very happy with this. 

The rich man grew older, and one day the inevitable happened, and he sadly died. 

A few days later his will was read and his riches began to get distributed. It was all going very well, but then they got to the camels - the rich man's pride and joy that he spent hours looking at and admiring. 

The child came up to the camels and began to claim his share..... but then stopped.....

Eight and a half camels? Not possible..... what do we do with the half? 

The grandchild decided to give it a go.... but then stopped.....

Five and two thirds of a camel? Who gets the hump? 

The nephew then counted and calculated and thought about his ninth.....

One and eight ninths of camel? I've definitely got the hump....

And they stood and they faced one another - what would they do? Would they have to have some sort of a sharing agreement? Should they cut two of the camels up and have them for dinner?

They argued and fought and argued and shouted and argued and went to find their swords and argued and went to find more swords and they were on the brink of war. They couldn't come to a solution. 

A poor man who lived next door had been listening to what was going on and watching the comings and goings and he tentatively knocked on the door. 

What's the problem? How can I help? 

The child and the grandchild and the nephew looked at him in disgust - they were rich, he was poor, what could he do? 

He said "I tell you what, I will give you my one camel, everything I own, and you add it to my old neighbour's estate, and it could help".

The three inheritors shrugged their shoulders and muttered under their breath, but each of them decided an extra camel couldn't do any arm so they took it. 

And they tried again:

The child..... a half - of now eighteen camels.... 9 CAMELS
The grandchild.... a third - of now eighteen camels..... 6 CAMELS
The nephew..... a ninth - of now eighteen camels...... 2 CAMELS

They looked at each other and began to grin, and then the noticed in the corner a camel, just standing there and waiting to be taken.... the poor man's camel left over.....

And they led it next door and tied it up for the poor man to re-claim. 

Whats so important about this story?

Well it reminds us that in the midst of conflict, that sometimes it takes a different perspective to bring peace. 

It reminds us that sometimes to bring peace we need to give up something of ourselves. 

It reminds us that if we sit down and think, that the solution might be easier than we first thought. 

The world at the moment is full of conflict and instability and war. This kind of instability doesn't start with someone waking up one day and getting their guns at the ready. It starts with a culture of my, a culture of want, a culture of take. Violence starts in our hearts and gets bigger and bigger and bigger. For the three inheritors the solution was simple, but their feeling of entitlement meant they couldn't see it. 

In our services we are beginning a new series looking at the teachings of Jesus and we are starting with the sermon on the mount - a very good place to start. Jesus is telling everyone about a new reality - the new kingdom coming through him. 

On Sunday we reflected on what it means to be a peacemaker. Jesus said in the beatitudes 'blessed are the peacemakers'  - but do we really believe that? In our world it seems that we believe the winners are those who are blessed - those who have won the war, the argument, the race.... 

As we talked through being a peacemaker in our service, we were challenged by the children, who suggested that to bring peace, we should play together and we should sit down and talk together instead of always wanting things our own way. The solution was simple, but as adults we often find it too difficult to comprehend. 

When Jesus says 'blessed are the peacemakers' he calls us to be more like the poor man in the story - the one who gave up everything in the name of peace. When Jesus said blessed are the peacemakers he invited us to participate in a challenging process that starts in our hearts. 

Being a peacemaker might mean giving away our only camel. 

Being a peacemaker might mean not jumping to the obvious conclusion.

Being a peacemaker might mean becoming like a child. 

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God"     Matthew 5:9

Road Closed for Repairs

Big Ben chimes for the last time until 2021, apart from the times it will chime, today. MPs are having a special moment to mourn this terrible loss to the sound of London. The tabloids are devastated. How can this be? 

This sign of stability. This sign of how things always are. This sign of how things always have been. It's going to lie silent. In mourning. It's bowing to health and safety. Why can't the people working on it's restoration live each day in fear of being struck by a swinging bell or of being deafened by its peal? 

This is the end. Life as we know it will never be the same again. 

We cling on and hope for a better outcome that keeps things the same as they have always been. We build a wall so the future cannot come and we barricade ourselves in, shut the doors, keep the cold out, leave the change where it should be... out there. 

Last week I was on holiday in Alnwick and to get to our holiday home we had to walk up the alleyways, but one alleyway was blocked. It had this on the end:

The juxtaposition of the Road Closed sign next to the church sign (the denomination doesn't matter - take it as church) prickled my bloggage antennae as I considered what this picture says about church today. What roads have we closed so, despite the arrows pointing and despite the big buildings that stand proud in the community the bridge has been blocked, the wall has been been built, the door has been shut?

When the stability of tradition is rocked, we hold on for dear life. One barrier to change is erected. 

When new arrivals in church mean we have to rearrange, move the chairs, burn the pews, move our seats, make space, we sit and sing 'we shall not be moved'. One barrier to change is erected. 

When we'd like the new people to come, but not the mess it creates, we cut back, we opt out and the event planned collapses. One barrier to change is erected. 

When the organ is silenced because repairs would mean no mission budget this year, we question the distribution of money, we repair the organ and we sing hymns of our own pleasing. One barrier to change is erected. 

When we hear of people struggling to eat, to exist, to live, and we offer help, but only out there, not in here, avoiding mess, avoiding chaos, avoiding becoming fools like the papers say we must be. One barrier to change is erected.

When the people walk past whose identity and lifestyle challenges what we have always thought and believed we lock the doors and hide, hoping not to be challenged and to have to even contemplate a wave. One barrier to change is erected. 

When we bad mouth those who are different, when we leave them in squalor, when we label them as alien, not wanted right here. One barrier to change is erected. 

When we mourn the silencing of the bells and refuse to condemn blatant all out racism. One barrier to change is erected. 

The signs of stability. The signs of how things always are. The signs of how things always have been. They're not there any more. 

This is the end. Life as we know it will never be the same again. 

And we cling on and hope for a better outcome that keeps things the same as they have always been. We build a wall so the future cannot come and we barricade ourselves in, shut the doors, keep the cold out, leave the change where it should be... out there. 

But....

We need to let go, break down the barriers, let the arrows point a way that is wide open and moving....let the arrows point to the Kingdom of God. 

Big Ben is still there. Big Ben hasn't gone away. We'll still hear the chimes. The tradition and the significance of that bell hasn't been negated as it is being repaired, it's being honoured. 

The traditions of the church have not gone away because the ways of being church have changed. We'll still have the stories and the lessons learnt. We'll still have many of the buildings and the hymns. The traditions of the church are a beautiful thing that we can honour... but that doesn't mean we need to hold on so tight. 

The barriers we put up? They're what close the road... and when that road is closed..... however many signs we put up, and arrows we point, however many fancy new initiatives we try, that road remains closed until we choose to take them down..... and if we leave it too late, there will be nothing to see. 

A Doctor, A Handmaid and a Lady Vicar

Doctor Who? A Woman? Surely not.... 

Last night as the news about the new Doctor Who came out and as people reacted with distaste, celebration and indifference, I was watching The Handmaid's Tale. The episode ended with June (or Offred - her Handmaid name - Of Fred - belonging to Fred) playing the music box she had been given by her mistress. It's one of those music boxes with a twirling ballerina. 

As June watches the box she reflects on how the ballerina can only dance when somebody else opens the box. It's an allegory of her life. I won't give too much away, just in case you haven't seen that episode yet, but she is only allowed out of the box of her role as a handmaid when her master or mistress allow. 

And she says, determined and focused....

"I will not be that girl in the box". 

Margaret Atwood who wrote The Handmaid's Tale, said that she made a rule for herself when she wrote it - that she "....would not include anything in it that human beings had not already done in some other place or time, or for which the technology did not already exist".  The book (which I've read at least 3 times) and the series, even without being read or watched in the light of this, makes for disturbing reading and viewing. The TV series is an adaptation which draws away from some of the book's narrative, but it has the same centre, the same fear, the same ability to make you uncomfortable in your seat as you have been the one who has not spoken out against injustice and the subjugation of women; not spoken out against genocide and cruel acts done in the name of 'what is right and proper'; not spoken out against misogynistic culture that puts women in boxes and only enables them to dance with permission....

But what has this got to do with Doctor Who? 

Well to be honest, I only made the link, because when I tweeted June's last words in the episode, someone tweeted back and said that my tweet was at odds with the message he was hearing from Doctor Who - referring to the new Doctor Who and what will be her tendency to fly around time in a big blue box. I reflected back that actually perhaps it could be more at odds with those who are horrified that a woman could be the doctor. 

There is nothing to say that the doctor couldn't be a woman, yet the controversy around the possibility and now the reality is (probably not unsurprisingly) one that has made a number of self claimed die hard Doctor Who fans (men and women) feel so uncomfortable they have declared their intentions never to watch it again. The doctor has always been a (white) man and will always be a man... end of. 

The issue I have with this is not an argument about the possible gender of Doctor Who, as to be honest, I don't really care, but is that the argument has come from a place that over history has put some people (women in particular, but this isn't the only issue) in a box that is only allowed to be opened when the owner wants the ballerina to dance. 

It is in the story of the female lorry driver I met in tears outside a local farm shop because she didn't know whether she could carry on anymore because she didn't feel safe around the male lorry drivers who treated her with contempt because she was a woman. 

It is in the story I heard on Radio 4 last week about the low percentage of train drivers who are female (5.4% on the London Underground in 2016) and what a novelty it is to have a female at the controls. 

It is in the story I heard of the church which, to call a woman into a leadership role had to change the title from minister or pastor so they could get round the ingrained culture that was rife within the congregation without losing the so-called stalwarts and good givers of the church. 

It's in my story too, and, if you talk to any other female minister, is likely to be in their story. It's sadly in the story of church (this article by Mark Woods details this and the link to Doctor Who further...). It's in the churches that won't have a woman minister, not for any reason but 'ministers have always been male'. It's in the churches that had an unsuccessful female pastor (whatever that means) and have vowed never to have one again (because all women are like that). It's in the look of surprise when I say what I do and the exclamation of 'I've never met a lady vicar before' (I ain't no lady vicar thank you very much). 

Both the treatment of women in The Handmaid's Tale and the surprise (and horror) of the new female Doctor, in their own ways, put a spotlight on the inequality within our society where culture and tradition is seemingly unmovable..... 

It also echoes the culture within our churches where tradition and theological views are so embedded and entwined (where we read our Bible with 'what has always been done' spectacles), that any change, any shift, any opening of the gate is seemingly impossible because it will rock our world and we will lose control. 

So instead of letting go of what has always been, we create boxes, which are opened, but only when we can deal with it, and only if, if we don't like it, we are able to close them again.... and if we really don't like it, we'll close them, lock them, and throw away the key. 


(I read this blog where the author writes a little more concisely about church and boxes and not being put into them.....worth a read!)

When the wind blows....

There has been a picture being shared on social media in the last couple of days man casually mowing the grass as a tornado looms behind him. It can be found here.

The story is, that mowing the grass was on his to-do list. His wife had gone for a nap leaving him to get on with it. His daughter noticed the change in the weather and went out to tell him, but he decided to carry on mowing because that was what was on his schedule. He told her he had his eye on the tornado.

What would you do in that situation?

Carry on with the to-do list despite the tornado?

Go inside and wait to see what happens?

Wind is a mighty thing.

A few months ago, in the middle of a sermon, just at the right time our fire exit blew loudly open and made everyone jump. 

Wind has the potential to do the unexpected, to change the course, to enable a tin can to roll up hill and cause chaos and devastation. It has, I watched in Beauty and the Beast last week, the potential to open up the way to a frightening but promising new life......

John 3:8 says this:

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from, or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

That tornado could have changed direction. That tornado could have caused destruction..... Yet the man carried on with his to do list, because that's what he had always done.

Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday. On that first Pentecost I'd imagine that the arrival of the Holy Spirit was as shocking as a tornado (even though they were expecting it). The disciples were ready and prepared for it and were waiting. Their chores paused for that time....

The man in the tornado story carries on doing his to-do list - his default - his normal - keeping an eye out but not prepared to stop and think. 

Sometimes we can all be a bit like that - our to do list is done whatever is around..... 

But.... then the tornado changes direction and we miss it as we resolutely stand firm in our ways and in the past. 

Perhaps there are times when we need to pause from our to-do list - our normal - our default - and watch and see and feel where the wind is going. Watch and see and feel where the Holy Spirit is leading us. 

Times are changing. Churches are changing (where they are willing to).... and we've all got to ask ourselves the question - what are we going to be doing? 

Are we going to be resolutely carrying on mowing the lawn, or are we going to stop, pause and watch and wait, listening and then moving to where the Spirit is leading us?  

Glitter in your hair, glitter everywhere......

Glitter
Glitter in my hair
Glitter in my shoes
Glitter between my computer keys
Glitter in every corner
Glitter in every space
Glitter


When I was a teacher I'm sure the cleaners had a secret moan when I had been making posters with my class again. Anything from charity fundraising, international pi day, Mechanics revision (there was a big basket of glitter on a slope, what friction kept it sitting?) and bar charts with Year 7 declaring their favourite fraction involved glitter.... 

Glitter on the carpet
Glitter in the corridors
Glitter

Now I'm not a teacher and have morphed into a Baptist minister, my love of glitter has not diminished. A craft with the added beauty of glitter makes one sparkle and shine like no other.

Glitter in the hymn books
Glitter in the cake
Glitter

What I don't understand about glitter, is the number of people who I talk to who have an intense hatred of the stuff. 

We've banned glitter, it gets everywhere. 
Glitter? Nasty stuff. 
Glitter......

I was reflecting on the banning of glitter from church buildings. What does it say about us? 

That we like to be tidy and clean and not make too much mess?

Or let's dig deeper.... we don't like things when we don't know where they are going to scatter? 

I recently ordered a new book. I don't know what it has in it as I haven't opened it yet, but I love the front cover. It's called Untamed Hospitality by Elizabeth Newman. On the front cover is a picture of a Dandelion Clock.



Imagine if we practised hospitality like a dandelion clock offers its seeds to the wind? We don't really know where it's going, we don't know what impact it will have and where the seeds will settle and grow, but we might be open to the possibility of our hospitality seeds taking us to places we don't expect. 

Imagine if we practised hospitality like glitter - where we don't mind where we end up, where we don't really know where we are going, but we know we will end up making our home somewhere where when the light catches us, we will sparkle, and bring beauty and change. 

Are we afraid of the glitter because we are afraid of mess?
Are we afraid of the glitter because it says something about our approach to change and risk? 

A crafter went out to make craft with glitter. As the crafter crafted, some of the glitter fell on the floor, and someone came later with a vacuum cleaner and sucked it up. Some of the glitter fell on some paper without glue. It looked beautiful for a while, but then it was picked up and the glitter fell away and the picture was no more. Some of the glitter fell amongst the scrap material, and its sparkle was hidden and eventually it was thrown away. Other glitter fell on the craft the crafter was making and it sparkled and it shined as it became something beautiful. As the crafter carried the craft home, the glitter spread onto their clothes and there was a trail of glitter wherever the crafter went - a trail that spoke of the story of the beauty of the craft even when it had been left in a pile with others. 

Let those who use glitter spread the sparkle far and wide by being generous and hospitable and be not afraid to take glittery risks.....

And go with the glitter. It doesn't matter that it gets everywhere when it brings joy to so many. It doesn't matter if you go home sparkling because then you can tell your story. 

And while we're at it, let's stop banning food and drinks from certain parts of the building..... church needs to be like the living room, not the formal front room where the sofas are covered in plastic and shoes are most definitely banned. The living room is where family is built, where people feel safe and where relationships develop. If we don't allow the spreading of glitter in our spaces, there will always be a barrier to feeling at home. The living room allows space and time for faith to grow - a messy, glittery, challenging, comfortable place to call home. 

Glittery glitter.

(for Jesus' version of the glitter story (and with a much greater depth of meaning than surface glitter) see The Parable of the Sower - Matthew 13:1-9)

Mothering Sunday Prayer

This year Mothering Sunday feels much more difficult than it has in previous years.This really quite surprises me, as normally it passes me by. This year, however, I am feeling just a bit unsettled by the whole thing. 

It might be that I am feeling conscious of getting older and that my chance to have children is diminishing as time goes by. It might be that I am conscious of the number of people close to me who'd rather Mothering Sunday just disappeared. It might be that I am conscious that sometimes it's hard, and we've got to allow space to express our frustrations and sorrow.

I pray that for everyone who finds it difficult, that they might see signs of light in the darkness, signs of hope in sorrow and a companion who can journey with them as they struggle at this point in the rhythm of every year. 

I wrote the prayer below three years ago to use during our Mothering Sunday service. It recognises that Mothering Sunday is both a celebration and a time of sorrow. We feel both of these emotions with all of our senses: in all we see, hear, smell, touch and taste. A prayer of journeys and of blessing.

Loving God, you are both Father and Mother to us. We come to you today all on different parts of our journey. Some of us are searching, some of us are feeling lost, some of us are hurting, some of us are feeling loved. Wherever we are and whatever we feel we come to you as our parent – the one who understands, and knows and walks with us.

As we journey with you today we hear the sounds of joy. As families meet together and celebrate being family together. As children tell their mothers how beautifully wonderful they are and as mothers tell their children how loved they are.

We also hear the sounds of mourning. We pray for those for whom this Mothering Sunday is a reminder of loss. A reminder that their Mum is not with them any more. We pray for peace. We pray for comfort. We pray that you might pick them up and carry them today.

As we journey with you today we taste the sweetness of new life. We thank you for the children in our lives. The way they smile, the way they brighten our lives. Help us to welcome children as part of our family, loving them unconditionally as you love them.

We also taste the bitterness that this day brings. For those who have not been able to have children we know that today can be a sorrowful and painful reminder of that. We pray for those people who have desperately wanted to be parents and have not been able to be. We pray that you might bring some sweetness into their lives through the blessings of others. We pray for comfort. We pray that you might pick them up and carry them today.

As we journey with you today we see the beauty in family life. We see how you have blessed us and cared for us. We remember where you have taken us and we look forward to where you are taking us next. Help us to continue to trust you as the future unfurls before our eyes.

We also remember that there are people for whom the future is not what they expected to see. We pray for those who have lost a child – who were looking forward with joy only to have that dream shattered. We pray for peace. We pray for comfort. We pray that you might pick them up and carry them today.

As we journey with you today we remember the smells of home. The smell of freshly baked cake, a delicious meal and the familiar. We thank you for what you have provided for us.

We also remember that not everyone has enough, that not everyone can experience the smells of home. We pray for those children who have no home, who have no one they can call Mum or Dad and who need caring for. We pray for those who do not have enough food or money. We pray that you will provide for them. We pray that you will pick them up and carry them today.

As we journey today we reach out our hands to you. We know that where we put our hand in your hand we can rely on your guidance, your love, your arms that carry us when life is hard.

We also remember those we love who have not reached out their hands to you or have let go, gone their own way. Our children who do not know you, our parents, our partners, our siblings, our wider families and the people we care about deeply. We pray that they may reach out to you, take your hand and choose to follow you.

Loving God, you are both Father and Mother to us. We come to you today all on different parts of our journey. Some of us are searching, some of us are feeling lost, some of us are hurting, some of us are feeling loved. Wherever we are and whatever we feel we come to you as our parent – the one who understands and knows and walks with us. 

Returning to default settings.....

When I write something on my computer at home and print it off, it shrinks. It took me a while to realise that this is because the default setting for my printer is to use letter sized paper not A4. I don’t know why the default setting is letter sized paper, but that’s what my computer thinks I want. Every time I print I think that I really should change my default settings, but I don’t..... and then the next time I print.... well you might guess the story.

We all have our default settings. Things we do without question. Things, that when we change our settings once, we go back to doing anyway, because it’s what feels right... it’s what feels natural. Recently I’ve been on ministers conference, and as part of the organising group, over the last two years we tried to mix things up a bit – do things a little bit differently – have communion in a different way or do less standing and sitting in rows.... however, this time, when we didn’t have so much influence on the programme, we referred to default... and as I stood at the back of the conference (because that's where I like to stand) I reflected on how even those of us who are most keen to do things a little bit differently so often default back to the ways in which things have often been done. I then drew a picture (excuse the faded pencil, and the random stick people, but hopefully it makes a little bit of sense). Drawing and sharing is definitely not my default position....! 

I did really enjoy ministers conference (partly because this time I was not ill and feeling like I was on some sort of spinning fair-ride and partly because it was good and made me think (hence that not being the only drawing I did)).... but it did make me think about my own default settings. 

What I should be doing with my default settings on my computer is to change them, forever, as I know that the paper I generally use is A4, and printing documents out without shrinking them every time without thinking about it would be much better and less frustrating. My reluctance to change my settings (because it is too much effort), however, could be seen as a reflection on how we generally find it so difficult to make changes stick.... because our default settings are so fixed we too easily revert... and then those default settings prevent us from being who we are meant to be (they shrink our vision to fit the default).

As we once again journey towards Easter where we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, maybe it's time to reflect on the possibilities that he has opened up and on who he is calling us to be. Do we shrink our vision to fit our default, or are we prepared to be open to wherever God is calling us, even if that might mean changing our settings?