The sight of tents pitched outside St Paul's Cathedral in London and in Bristol outside the Cathedral and the Council Building on Cathedral Green is a very provocative image. Regardless of how so many people can afford to live outside these cathedrals for so long, the anti-globalisation campaigners have created a question in my mind and maybe in other minds too: whose side is the church on? Will you welcome our presence and support our protest against rising inequality or will you shut your doors against us and try to blend into the establishment background? It is said that St Paul's loses £16,000 every day the catherdral is closed. That is not sustainable for very long. Stewart Lansley's new book, "The Cost of Inequality," estimates that while most people are being sorely squeezed by the current financial situation, the super-rich have seen their wealth rise by 18% in the last twelve months to £395.8 billion. This, says Lansley, is also unsustainable.
Protestant churches, like ours, our founded on the practice of protest. God, we believe, has given us consciences. Where things are not right, we should say so. We should not fall into some neo-gnostic delusion and say that such worldy things are not our concern. Concerned we must be, and listen to the inner voice of conscience. Personally, I find I need to answer two questions: what is my motivation in protesting and do I have the courage to protest? I must ask the first question to be as sure as possible that that my actions are not springing from jealousy or anger, and I must address the second to make sure my lack of action does not make me an accessory to injustice. Sustainability is a new and odd word. Outside the Kingdom of God, nothing is sustainable for ever.
With much love, Martin
My Spiritual Life
A series of Q&As celebrating the faith lives of St Michael’s members. In the spotlight this month is Edward Leigh Wood from Swainswick Explorers
Was coming to faith a light-bulb moment or a gradual dawning?
After I left school and university things got a little messy; I knew there was a God, I would occasionally go to church, but really I had no idea that Jesus was still alive, loved me and was knocking at the door. In October 1991, I felt I really had to go to a church close to where I lived at the time, one Sunday night. In I went to hear the Gospel piercing right into me. I surrendered to Christ …
Who inspires you most by their example of faith?
I sometimes think about the cloud of witnesses around us, sometimes believers I’ve met in Bethlehem, pushing on, just holding on to the promise.
What is your favourite passage from the bible?
It depends on the day. The words of Isaiah, the prayers of people like Moses, Solomon and Mary and Zechariah in the New Testament.
Is there a particular hymn or worship song that resonates with you?
I like singing, so antiphonal hymns to David Crowder songs, as well as most hymns in the Anglican hymn book.
Where do you feel closest to God?
In the wind, on the horizon, when young children are thoroughly absorbed in elemental play, (like mud, water, sticks… imaginary places). Sometimes in my work there is a “beautiful collision” of when Heaven meets earth; a place where the children I look after are totally engaged in discovery and delight; at the same time there is a sense of stillness, beautiful aromas and peace… there may even be a bird formation in the sky, following the invisible magnetic fields… that’s a good place to be in.
How does your faith inform your work or activities?
Christ around us, Christ in front and behind. Christ within us. By being open, I’m vulnerable, which really hurts sometimes. Hope must win.
Celebrating our common humanity
I am surprised at how caught up I became in the Stephen Lawrence case which offered some closure to his family with the conviction of two of his killers at the turn of the year. I was a parish priest in South London at the time of Stephen’s murder and was Vicar of a parish in Surrey Docks in which racism was never too far from the surface – indeed for some black members of our congregation exposure to racism was a daily occurrence.
Some commentators have suggested that the Lawrence case marked a watershed for race relations in this country. ‘Britain’, said one, ‘is a much more tolerant and open country. We have new laws to prevent the stirring of racial hatred and our public institutions are better representative of and responsive to all the people.’ It is certainly true that the determination of Doreen Lawrence to get justice for her son did lead to a root and branch review of policing through the McPherson Inquiry and that has seen some change for good.
However, as Doreen Lawrence herself has said, ‘The fact is that racism and racist attacks are still happening in this country and the police should not use my son’s name to say that we can move on.’ Around the week that Stephen’s trial concluded a young Indian, Anuj Bidve, was shot and killed on the streets of Salford and a young black footballer from Oldham was racially abused by an opposing supporter at Liverpool’s ground.
Why do I raise all of this now? At the beginning of February the church celebrates the Feast of Candlemas and we hear again the prophetic message of Simeon who declares that Jesus is to be a light for all the nations – Jews and Gentiles. It is a radical message that requires all of us, in the words of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ‘to see God’s image in the one who is not in our image.’
As the Bosnian born theologian, Miroslav Volf says in his award winning book, ‘Exclusion and Embrace’, it may not be too much to claim that the future of our world will depend on how we deal with identity and difference. So, on the feast of Candlemas let us light a candle in celebration of our common humanity.
