Posted in Church of England, coronavirus

Treasure in alabaster jars

And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that Jesus was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. (Luke 7:37-38)

Christian faith is not supposed to be polite. Many centuries of effort in the church have tried to eradicate from it the truly radical nature of faith, but it can’t be wiped out altogether: by the grace of God’s Spirit it keeps on bubbling back. In particular as we slowly, hesitantly and eventually emerge from the coronavirus pandemic, it’s time for the us in the Church of England to stop imagining that religion is just ordinary life with a few added morals.

Individually and as a community, we have come through trauma over this last year and a half, and it hasn’t gone away yet. Part of our natural human reaction is to try to forget about it, to get back to “normal”, and ignore those who ”keep on going on about it”. But trauma doesn’t go away like that, it just gets buried – but it’s still there, like an inner zombie gnawing away at us. As a society we need time to weep, to mourn and to tell the stories of our pandemic experiences. Some of us will have experienced personal tragedies of illness and bereavement. All of us have been part of a national and global crisis on a scale that few have experienced.

The church’s role now is not to paper over the cracks and try to make everything normal again. Quite the opposite: we need to be those who allow the wounds in our society to heal properly, from the inside out, gradually regrowing healthy tissue. We should not be concerned about our reputation, or respectability, but with the realities which it is difficult to acknowledge.

Our job as the people of God is to move beyond politeness into reality, to step out of the myth of self-sufficiency and to admit the utter dependence on the grace of God which is the condition of all Christian life. That is the deep truth which has always been there at the heart of the church: but it has also often been a deeply hidden truth. The mission of the church in this time is to open up its treasure of grace and to pour it away in vulnerability, so that our sins and brokenness may also be healed and forgiven, and we may go in peace.

Posted in art, coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments: being human in a pandemic

Over this last year and more, all our lives have been shaken up in unpredictable and often painful ways.

This book brings together the reflections written by Jonathan during the pandemic (and published on this blog), with Alison’s ‘Broken Beauty’ art work, originally exhibited as a reflection on the terrorist attack at London Bridge in 2017. We hope you will enjoy the conversation between words and images.

If you’d like a copy, you can find it here

Posted in coronavirus, Poverty and Justice, racial justice

A pandemic for the poor?

The BBC has a page with all the info. you probably don’t want to know about the coronavirus vaccination programme in the UK. Until very recently (not sure why they’ve stopped) they included maps of your local authority and its region, helpfully colour coded to show where vaccination rates were lowest and highest. The Guardian has something similar if you want to take a look.

In each case, areas with fewer vaccinations are in a lighter colour. And wherever you look, it’s area of (primarily urban) deprivation which have the lowest vaccination rates. The UK Government makes much of the overall rates of vaccination, which are impressive – 75.8% of adults have received their first dose up to June 4th. But in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets it’s 41%. In Nottingham it’s 43%. In Southampton it’s 51%. And the same story goes across urban areas all over the country.

And what goes for this country goes even more for the world. Across Africa virtually all countries are in single digit percentages, and many are less than 1% vaccinated.

So now we come to the crunch time, the really difficult decision: will the rich and powerful continue to think the coronavirus is really important when it’s no longer an issue for them personally? In the UK, will decisions about further loosening of restrictions be made on the basis of those who will be most affected? Or will they be ignored in the rush back to entertainment? In the world as a whole, will the governments of prosperous and vaccinated countries put real energy into making us all safe? Or will they spend that money on building barriers to keep out the infected hordes?

Up to now, it’s been in the interests of the powerful to protect everyone. Now that that isn’t so much the case, what will we see? It’s clear to me what’s right. In the UK, we should measure our actions by the effect it will have in the least vaccinated places, not the most. Tower Hamlets should be our guide, not East Suffolk. Across the world, we must keep on investing until we are all protected.

Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 40

For an introduction to this series, look here

Any day stands equal to the rest

Now is the time. The place in which we are living, this moment which is always passing away, this present is the time to make the choice. Not usually a significant or life-changing choice, but in every moment in which we are awake we are continually choosing how we will live our lives.

In particular, when the future is uncertain, it’s essential that we do not put off living for another day, whether in anxiety about what might happen next, or hope that it’ll all be back to normal. Life may feel as if it is in fragments, but each fragment is an opportunity to choose and to live one way or another.

In writing these fragments of my own, I have been trying to think through what sort of choices I can make to try to live as fruitfully as possible, caring for myself and for others, staying faithful to my principles while circumstances change. I hope that you will be able to make your own contribution to the conversation that we all need to be part of, as we find our way through unprecedented times.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 39

For an introduction to this series, look here

They raise their voices to idols as if they were carrying on a conversation with a wall, they have understood so little of the gods

This is not the rudest of Heraclitus’ criticisms of his opponents, though it is in my view the funniest. What’s helpful for us is not the difference between his view of divinity, and the older Greek traditions he’s criticising. Much more relevant to our situation, he’s not at all impressed with those who mistake the image for the real thing.

Much of the contemporary world’s best energies are expended on getting us to do exactly that. The advertising industry is dedicated to creating an image of whatever they are selling which carries as many suggestions as possible that only this product will make us happier, healthier, more popular or richer – and if possible several of those. As we become more sensitive to the techniques of advertisers, they in turn become more subtle.

There are many problems with a world dominated by advertising, but I will mention here only one: there is a danger that everything becomes an advert, or at least that we start thinking as if that were the case. ‘What are they selling?’ becomes the question which is asked everywhere and of everyone, even of doctors warning us against a potentially lethal disease.

We have become so used to lies that it is difficult to believe that anything is the truth. Worse, we take for truth whatever is so well packaged that we can’t see its bias, and discount as a lie anything which makes an obvious, unvarnished appeal.

In a world full of lies, half-truths and spin, discerning the truth is hard work. None of us should believe we can do it on our own; multiple perspectives can reveal more than any one of us on our own. But if we can honestly bring into conversation what we see of the truth, and also bring in the possibility that we might need to change our own minds, we’ve got a good chance. Otherwise we might outsmart ourselves to death.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 38

For an introduction to this series, look here

Everyone can share in knowledge and understanding

One of the distinctive things about Heraclitus was that he believed that understanding, self-knowledge and wisdom were equally accessible to everyone. That’s a radical thought, and not one commonly shared even in our present democratic era. But I think it’s a really important truth. It’s not a claim that all people are equally intelligent, in all the different ways intelligence manifests itself: that’s clearly not true. Abandoning intellectual or spiritual elitism is not about trying to make everyone the same: it’s about celebrating the diversity of each person’s gifts, and looking for the specific talent or skill that someone has.

The churches have, slowly in the case of mine, woken up to the fact that everyone is gifted, though we’re still not good at living out that belief. Too much tradition has built up around believing that certain groups of people were the only ones to listen to (bishops, sometimes). But that is not the root of the Christian tradition. It is fundamental to my faith that all people are equally loved by God, and that all those who are disciples of Christ are equally his brothers and sisters.

When I was a parish priest, I learned not to set boundaries on who I might learn from. I remember particularly one parishioner who usually just repeated the same sort of thing, whatever the conversation was supposed to be about. But every now and again, very simply they said something which was a pearl of wisdom. Whatever you may think of yourself, or of others, there is no-one so wise that they are always right, or so foolish that they can’t hit the nail on the head. If we’re going to work out what the signs of the time mean, we need each other.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 37

For an introduction to this series, look here

Among all the words I have heard, none has yet attained this: to recognise wisdom, which is beyond all

It’s worth spending a little longer on wisdom, and not just because it’s so important to Heraclitus. Wouldn’t we all like to be wise? Well, as I write that I wonder whether everyone would: but it’s always been my aim. And I still feel glad to be aiming for it, even while also knowing that Heraclitus is right, that wisdom is not something anyone can attain to the full. The Bible incorporates wisdom into the scriptural view of God, especially in the book of Proverbs. Wisdom is personified as working alongside God in creation:

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work,

   the first of his acts of long ago.

Ages ago I was set up,

   at the first, before the beginning of the earth.

When there were no depths I was brought forth,

   when there were no springs abounding with water.

Before the mountains had been shaped,

   before the hills, I was brought forth—

when he had not yet made earth and fields,

   or the world’s first bits of soil.

When he established the heavens, I was there,

   when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,

when he made firm the skies above,

   when he established the fountains of the deep,

when he assigned to the sea its limit,

   so that the waters might not transgress his command,

when he marked out the foundations of the earth,

   then I was beside him, like a master worker;

and I was daily his delight,

   rejoicing before him always,

rejoicing in his inhabited world.

Wisdom is part of the divine, so it is beyond us, but also woven into the fabric of the world which God created. Because it is part of God’s created order, wisdom is not morally neutral: true wisdom is integrally linked with righteous living.

“Truly, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom;

   and to depart from evil is understanding.”

Seeking wisdom is always worth doing, for all of us, because we can reach out to touch and share in that creative wisdom which is at work in the world. The challenge always lies ahead of us, inviting us into a relationship with the creating power of God.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 36

For an introduction to this series, look here

The oracle neither declares nor conceals, but gives a sign

Heraclitus is talking about the most famous oracle in ancient Greece, the shrine of Apollo at Delphi. The oracle famously demanded that the questioner did some work in interpreting the answer given: the answer pointed the way, but it would leave some ambiguity.

I feel like that’s something of what I’m doing in these fragments of mine. I don’t know any more than anyone else how and when this pandemic will end, and what the long-term costs will be. But I do know that there’s no point waiting for it all to be over before trying to work out how to respond. And I’m looking for people to guide me, as well as offering what wisdom I may have.

It feels at the moment as if we have partial maps, each showing something of the terrain and the way ahead. To add to the challenge, some of the maps are fake, showing ways that don’t exist or removing features from the landscape. Interpreting all that partial information, in order to plot a way ahead, can only be a shared task.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 35

For an introduction to this series, look here

Some things are just too difficult to believe

Denial is a perfectly natural human response to difficult situations. When a new fact is just too big and too painful to get our heads around, part of dealing with it is to deny it’s there. It gives the psyche some space and time to begin to accept what’s happened, and to start learning to live with it. It usually happens as one of the first stages of bereavement; at one level we know that the person we’re grieving has died, but other parts of our personality haven’t got there yet, so we still expect to see them doing the things they normally do, and even think we’ve heard them in another room. It can be scary, but it doesn’t signify madness! It’s just part of the process.

The problem comes when there’s no process: when it’s impossible to get beyond denial. The death of a loved one is too obvious a loss to be denied forever. When a threat is more diffuse, less graspable, it’s possible just to keep on denying it’s there, especially when the consequences of doing otherwise just feel too great to deal with.

That’s where we are, I think, in the current muddle and disarray, which we see most publicly in the USA, but it’s present everywhere. Especially when it hasn’t come close to you personally, it can be psychologically more straightforward to deny the reality of the pandemic than to have to make the changes to life that it involves. Particularly if you are one of those who tries to lead your life without too much reference to government rules and regulations, and someone who thinks of themselves as an individualist, the idea of conforming to the restrictive regulations being imposed can be more than an inconvenience: it can involve a major revision of your sense of your own identity. No wonder people would rather deny the reality of the pandemic.

And for those of us who are, with whatever difficulty, accepting that it exists? Well, it’s really important not to despise or denigrate those who can’t. Rather let’s remember what hard work it is to deal with challenges of the sort we’re facing.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark
Posted in coronavirus, Fragments

Fragments on Fragments 34

For an introduction to this series, look here

Justice will catch up with those who invent lies and those who swear to them

I really hope this is true. The biblical message, as well as Heraclitus’, is clear: injustice and lies will not prevail, truth and justice will in the end be established. Many many writers have also lamented that it doesn’t seem much like that, from day to day. And they are right: every day, there are examples of the unjust triumphing. The rich hide their money away from making its contribution to our common needs; the planet continues to be destroyed to serve human greed; liars flourish and the honest are condemned.

President Obama often used a phrase of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”. But it appears that King was paraphrasing a portion of a sermon delivered in 1853 by the abolitionist minister Theodore Parker. Parker said: “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc is a long one. My eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by experience of sight. I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends toward justice.”

A 21st century President quoting a 20th century civil rights leader, quoting a 19th century preacher. None of them claimed to have reached the other end of the arc of the moral universe, but all of them were sure that in the ultimate long term, justice was its end. To believe that justice will prevail is an act of faith and of conscience. The more of us believe it, the sooner it will become the truth of the world we live in.

Detail from Heirloom, part of the Broken Beauty residency in Southwark cathedral, 2018. Photo credit: Alison Clark