John Davies - Notes From a Small Vicar

GOD IS SICK OF US NOT LEAVING THE MUNDANE

John’s Notes: Clapham & District Newsletter, Oct-Nov 2023

A plaque on the wall inside the Church of Saint John the Evangelist on New Briggate, Leeds, reads: SIC DEUS DILEXIT MUNDUM. Dick Bonham translates this as GOD IS SICK OF US NOT LEAVING THE MUNDANE. Dick was a theatrical producer of ‘ghost nights’ inside St John’s when he guided me around the ‘redundant’ church some years ago, and he was being playful. I was amused to discover that the Latin dictionary translation is GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD, which struck me as meaning almost the opposite.

I’ve been revisiting that day, in preparation for a talk I’m giving to Clapham’s Age UK group on 4th October. It was 19th September 2007, during a two-month-long deliberately slow walk I made from Hull to Liverpool, loosely following the motorway which connects them, which I called ‘Walking the M62’, and is the topic of my talk. 

My Leeds city tour was hosted by Dick and others from his theatre company, whose particular schtick was to create activities and events encouraging the general public to take a fresh and creative look at the world immediately around them, whether in Leeds city streets, or the hamlets of England along The Great North Road, or Cornish coastal towns.*

We connected on my M62 walk because our intentions were similar: to discover and celebrate the awe and wonder latent beneath the surface of everyday life. I was then living in a housing estate parish, one of those places which suffer from the lazy assumption that all these ‘little boxes’ thrown up in the 1930s, ‘all made out of ticky-tacky’, ‘all look just the same’ and must be therefore the location of very humdrum lives. A mere scratch beneath the surface gave the lie to that, of course, and this was confirmed in a series of ‘Parish Walks’ I did with locals and visitors, where conversation and observation brought the place to life in rich and unexpected ways.

You don’t have to Latinise or spiritualise this observation: that the minutiae of everyday life has significance and value, wherever we are; and intentionally exploring the life under our very noses is so unexpectedly enriching, we miss out if we don’t do it.

 

* See these blog posts for more on this: God is sick of us not leaving the mundane, September 19, 2007; To the edges and back, November 20, 2006.

A Ready Man

I recommend A Ready Man: Hugh Stowell Brown, preacher, activist, friend of the poor, Wayne Clarke's well-told story of an influential man of Liverpool and the world, about whom I knew little before reading this book.

Wayne Clarke, A Ready Man: Hugh Stowell Brown, preacher, activist, friend of the poor. Click image for an author signed copy, £4.99 from Wayne's eBay store.

Wayne rightly places Brown front and centre, but the book is enriched by the chapter on Wayne's search for, and recovery and restoration of, the statue in Brown's honour (Having once been abandoned to the floor of a barn in Croxteth Hall Farm it now sits proudly in its original position on the site of Hope Street Baptist Chapel).

This is a remarkable achievement, particularly in our era where the prevailing instinct is more concerned with removing or moderating monuments. Brown was no slave trader, and what strikes me most about his monument is that it was 'Erected by the Citizens of Liverpool'.

His endorsement of frugality, teetotalism and education was clearly an inspiration to the city's aspirational working people, who gathered in great numbers to hear him, and I think that his sermon which Wayne reproduces as an appendix, 'Penny Wise and Pound Foolish' feels as fresh and relevant to today's self-combusting consumer society as when Brown first preached it.

 

 

 

If there’s time for the loud, there’s time for the quiet. If there’s time for the fast, there’s a need for the slow

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.163, 4 June 2023

I think our having grandchildren around this half-term week, and my upcoming birthday, have combined to get me brooding over my age.... and being encouraged by what the next generation are achieving. One whom I’ve been thinking of is Sarah Corbett, who I used to chat with around the kitchen table of her home in the vicarage of St Peter’s, West Everton, when she was a schoolgirl and I was a community worker alongside her mum Jane. Sarah’s dad Henry recently retired after over forty years of ministry in one of Liverpool's lowest income communities, and Jane went on to become West Everton's city councillor and a Deputy Mayor. Sarah has said,  "All we ever do around the kitchen table is talk about religion and politics."

At the age of three Sarah joined her local community squatting in social housing to save them from demolition (they won), and with her parents she later visited South Africa to learn about the Peace and Reconciliation work of Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. She became a professional campaigner for NGOs including Christian Aid and Oxfam GB, and the UK Government Department for International Development (DFID). But something wasn’t quite right. In 2008, Sarah, a self-described introvert, "burned out from too much confrontation, and, doubting the effectiveness of many elements of conventional activism, starting looking for alternatives." She discovered craftivism – a term coined by American writer and crafter Betsy Greer in 2003 – and decided to have a go at creating her own craftivism projects.

Craftivism is a combination of 'craft' and 'activism'. There are limitless possibilities to what craftivists do, including hand-sewing positive messages to post to MPs, crafting colourful mini-banners for public display, helping kids create bunting expressing their  desires to improve the world, and leaving crafted Valentine’s cards for people to find, containing messages inviting them to ‘brighten up someone’s day’.

Sarah says, “If there’s time for the loud, there’s also time for the quiet. If there’s time for the fast, there’s also a need for the slow. In everyone’s heart is a desire to change things for the better – it is essential that there is an activists toolkit that is as diverse as humanity.” Sarah’s unique ‘Gentle Protest’ approach to craftivism gained a following of friends and strangers around the world who wanted to get involved. And so, in 2009, the Craftivist Collective was born.

Today the award-winning Craftivist Collective has thousands of members, who Sarah supports by developing tools and projects that they can undertake as individuals or by organising their own small group 'stitch-ins'. Sarah has also delivered events, talks, workshops and events to over 12,000 people around the world. Her first book, A Little Book of Craftivism, came out in 2013, and she has since published a more in-depth guide, How to be a Craftivist: the art of gentle protest. In July 2022 Sarah was presented with an Honorary Fellowship from Goldsmiths, University of London for her "contribution to design activism and public engagement.”

This week Sarah sent news of her plans to publish The Craftivist Collective Handbook, which “is going to be a beautiful, hardback book of 20 craftivism projects and tools to help you on your journey as a positive and effective change-maker. Each project explains ‘How To’ create these ethical craftivism projects, and just as importantly ‘Why To’, so that you can fulfil the potential of your campaign with both a strong strategy and mindful process.” Being a full-time craftivist is hardly lucrative, thus Sarah’s request for supporters to finance this project. If you’re interested to read more about craftivism, or to donate towards Sarah’s work, please click over to the Craftivist Collective website.

A duty to the truth

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.160, 14 May 2023

Why are farmers in southern Malawi switching from maize to pigeon peas? The answer is simple. They are increasingly losing their livelihoods to droughts and floods. To adapt, they are turning to pigeon peas, a tough crop that’s better able to withstand extreme conditions. Although farmers can now earn a more stable income and better feed their families, they’ve had to say goodbye to culturally important maize-based dishes. Imagine our having to give up fish and chips because our potato supplies have run out.

Jen Bishop and her husband started to grow pigeon peas in 2016. Today, they grow two acres of it. They’ve used their increased income to send their son Innocent to university. But now erratic weather patterns, caused by the climate crisis, threaten their financial stability. Because when it does eventually rain, it rains so hard that it causes flooding and damages the peas.

In March 2023, Cyclone Freddy caused heavy rains, floods and landslides in almost half of Malawi. By 20 March, nearly 500 people had died and over half a million people had been displaced. Freddy washed away part of Jen’s field. She lost the equivalent of two bags of yield, worth at least £79; vital funds which she’d planned to use to pay the secondary school fees for one of her children.

The climate crisis is robbing Jen’s children of their prospects. ‘It’s a price no child should pay,’ say Christian Aid. ‘This is loss and damage. It’s the scandalous loss of life, livelihood, land and culture. And those most impacted are left to pay the repair bills themselves.

Meanwhile, polluters continue to burn fossil fuels, profit from the poison they produce, and turn their backs on the damage they’ve caused. It’s time for polluters to pay up to repair what they’ve damaged.’

At the COP27 climate talks in 2022, governments agreed to create a Loss and Damage fund to compensate communities affected by climate-change-driven losses. But right now, the fund is empty. Campaigners including Christian Aid are asking that the UK Government make polluters pay into this fund - the companies who cause loss and damage whilst generating massive profits and enjoying great wealth. [1]

Is it right for Christians to protest? I’ve been turning this question around in my mind a lot since last month, when my good friend and erstwhile colleague Revd Mark Coleman was imprisoned for public nuisance, having taken part in a central London road-block on an Insulate Britain protest last October. At his Crown Court trial in January, Mark’s three character witness statements read to the court were from his bishop, the former mayor of Rochdale (where Mark was parish priest before taking early retirement due to Parkinsons), and an imam. Each was positive about him, he said, and, ‘I particularly liked the imam’s comment that I had a “duty to the truth”.’ [2]

I have told Mark that I respect and admire his course of action, a sacrificial witness to the truth of a global situation which connects those in fuel poverty in the UK, with Jen Bishop, affected by crop-destruction in Malawi. But I’ve also admitted to him that I am unsettled by his actions, for reasons I can’t quite explain. 

Maybe this present crisis ought to unsettle us, and shake us into action: whatever that means. For a few that will mean taking to the streets in peaceful protest; for a few more that may mean writing to those in power to ask for changes in law to protect people and the planet; for others, supporting campaigns which do this work; and for many more of us it may mean simply praying: giving thanks that governments have agreed to create a Loss and Damage fund; and asking that the UK Government make polluters pay into this fund so that affected communities can repair physically, culturally and emotionally.

Ugandan climate activist Vanessa Nakate said: ‘In a time of crises, we must reveal the heart of Christ. We must reveal the love of God. We must reveal His grace towards humanity. We must use our voices. We must stand by our values and do something for communities on the frontline of the climate crisis.’

 

Notes

[1] Christian Aid Loss and Damage Campaign.

[2] Mark Coleman, I have a duty to the truth — even if it puts me in prison. Church Times, 5 May 2023; Rochdale News: Insulate Britain supporter Revd Mark Coleman jailed for vowing to continue in civil resistance. Rochdale Online, 21 April 2023.

 

 

 

Means of survival

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.157, 23 April 2023

Everyday I think about dying,
about plague, war, famine,
global warming, the end of the world.
It helps keep my mind off things.

It made me happy when my selection of Roger McGough's verses were well-received, among the many excellent presentations, at last week's Poetry, Prose, Pies, Peas and Puddings evening. So here's a couple more. 

Survivor, above, typifies McGough's quiet wit and gentle wisdom. The last line's playful reversal offers us release from the anxiety of living in a broken world we feel helpless to change, whilst quietly suggesting that it's enough that we deal with those 'things' which test us every day. Echoes of Jesus' soothing end to the Sermon on the Mount:  “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

In another poem Roger McGough expresses gratitude towards his Liverpool-Irish Catholicism, in celebrating one thing which helps him get through each day. We might relate to this too....

To Religion

Thank you, Religion, for helping me believe
that I am living a charmed life.
Touch wood, no disasters so far. I've

more friends than foes, four children and a wife
who is always at the heart of things.
Pay my dues and chance a prayer to keep them safe.

In times of despair an alarm bell rings
and I wonder if perhaps it's all a con.
But then somewhere within, a small voice sings.

Mumbo jumbo? Before I can tell, it's gone.
Brainwashed? You're in my DNA? We've
no idea. Against the odds we soldier on.

People cleverer than me think I'm naive,
that God is dead. That when it ends, it ends.
But thank you, Religion, for helping me believe.

'Survivor' is published in Roger McGough, Collected Poems, Penguin 2004.
'To Religion' is published in Roger McGough, That Awkward Age, Penguin 2010.

The dead are not under the earth

Churches Weekly Newsletter: No.156, 16 April 2023

Those who have died have never, never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass,
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth.

– Ysaye Barnwell, 'Breaths', Sweet Honey in the Rock, 1988

This time each year my mind always turns towards my grandmother Edna Jones whose birthday was 15 April. My Yorkshire grandmother, the daughter of a Bingley cobbler, who as a young woman moved with her parents to Liverpool, where they set up a shoe shop in suburban Waterloo: my eventual birthplace. 

When Ysaye Barnwell sings “The dead are not under the earth,” she is of course being figurative. Edna's ashes went to earth back in the 1980s, mercifully some years before that other indelible 15th April event, the Hillsborough Stadium disaster of 1989, which shook our community to the core, and would have shaken Edna so, as she loved her sport, its people and its traditions. Each FA Cup Final day Edna would gather the family in her living room where we would watch the game together, followed by a ham tea.

But in her song Barnwell is inviting us to consider these questions: Where do you find your ancestors? How do relationships with generations back continue to nurture your life? What traditions do you hold around your ancestors, practices which are still part of your life?

These are good Eastertime questions, encouraging us to look for signs of resurrection in the details of our daily lives, to consider how those who have gone before us continue to shape some aspects of our characters.

I find Edna less in 'the rustling trees... the groaning woods' of this place, and more in the inflections of some West Yorkshire womens' voices, their terse and vigorously expressive ways of speaking; and I find something of her spirit too, in the solidarity I have (and I'm certain she would have had) with the families of those whose loved ones went to watch a football match that April day, and never returned, in their search for recognition and justice in the face of 'the patronising disposition of unaccountable power', as Bishop James Jones later put it in a government report. Now, years after that report's publication, there are plans to introduce a Hillsborough Law, with a so-called Independent Public Advocate to support families caught up in major disasters.

(thanks to Geez magazine for the 'Breaths' references)

The process of historical remembering: that is what Holy Week is about

Churches Weekly Newsletter: No.154, 2 April 2023

Jesus was no innocent victim, lest we forget. His crucifixion was the outcome of his dedicated mission to promote the values of the kingdom of God over and above the values of the Jewish religious establishment and the Roman Empire, which dominated his society. He constantly challenged the priests for the way their regulations crushed the ordinary people; and his heresy that there was a greater God than the Emperor called into question the hegemonic power of Rome. 

Whilst his crucifixion aligns him with every other victim of political killing through history, his resurrection has always offered hope to people whose lives are blighted by such powers. Hope, and the impetus to work for change-for-the-better in the world. If we forget this history we reduce Jesus' mission to something abstract, spiritualised, and uprooted from his - and our - lived experience.

Historical remembering and forgetting is a current issue in our public life. Whether the subject is war crimes, or slavery, or empire-building genocides, or corporate injustices, the 'debate' is too often reduced to a push-and-pull between those who say 'we should leave the past in the past', and those who want to kick over the statues.

The Christian gospel insists that we can't remain neutral on this. For the Jesus tradition (informed by the prophetic works of the Hebrew Scriptures) is clear where it stands on the ground between the poor and those who oppress them. The Jesus tradition is rooted in history, and it demands that we open our eyes to what we know. 

“You already know enough. So do I,” writes Sven Lindqvist on the first page of Exterminate All the Brutes, his exploration of the consequences of European imperialism. “It is not knowledge we lack. What is missing is the courage to understand what we know and draw conclusions.” This is no easy task, complications and discomfort abound as we peel back the many layers of our thorny histories, as we trace back the capital in our homes, churches and businesses to its potentially immoral sources, and process how to respond to what we find.

The gospel warns us that if we travel such paths there may be crucifixions along the way. But the gospel does not stop at crucifixions. It insists on resurrections. The hope is that the process of historical remembering can bring to life new ways for us to flourish on this earth together. The process of historical remembering: that is what Holy Week is about.

Every hour an ever more satisfying discovery

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.153, 26 March 2023

Pippa Foulds, Couched and knotted. From facebook.com/pippafoulds/photos

Gillian Hazeldene, John Cage: Begin Anywhere. From gillianhazeldine.co.uk

 

Our Afternoon Fellowship is blessed to have gifted local people taking time and care to generously share their interests and crafts with us each month. This week Pippa Foulds described to us her journey from having been a lawyer to now being an active member of the Royal School of Needlework (RSN), teaching and undertaking commissions of all kinds in many places, worldwide. 

Pippa works with Durham Cathedral Broderers, and was appointed Head Broderer at York Minster in 2018. She showed us examples from a number of private commissions, commercial, ecclesiastical and conservation, and described in detail her restoration of the white altar frontal at Austwick Church (which will next be on display on Easter Day). Starting by taking a pair of scissors to vintage (if threadbare) silk, to crop out the needlework designs to be restored (onto new silk), must require quite some nerve. The meticulous work of creating, or re-creating, detailed shapes and forms clearly requires a steady hand and keen eye.

Pippa also showed us her work on one of the pictorial panels on ‘The Magna Carta, An Embroidery’ for artist Cornelia Parker, on ‘The Hardhome Embroidery’ for HBOs Game of Thrones, and of her project for RSN at Burberry’s Makers House, among exhibitors described as "some of Britain’s most exciting creators, (showing) the innovation and inspiration behind their work.”

The image above, of a recent piece, shows how Pippa’s interests in embroidery are now embracing more experimental forms. I found myself reflecting on how this mirrored Jilly Hazeldine’s presentation to the Fellowship in January, where she described a similar ‘journey’ which she is making from conventional, into increasingly abstract, styles of lettering, as demonstrated by the image above. 

“With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling / We shall not cease from exploration,” wrote T.S. Eliot in Little Gidding. Eliot was describing the progress through life of an engaged Christian faith, but his words might equally express something which artists and craftspeople who love their work also find to be true, and which we may each find true with whatever it is we’re passionate about. If we love something in that deep way, then every hour we spend with it is a time of ever more satisfying discovery.

Our warm welcome

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.152, 19 March 2023

They come, they come; we may not always see their face, but this is their space.

Their space to breathe, their space to be.

They come, they come; in times of joy and times of sadness, shedding tears of grief and gladness.

Their space to breathe, their space to be.

They come, they come; keep the doors open wide, welcome them inside.

Their space to breathe, their space to be.*

It was encouraging that despite heavily falling snow and sub-zero temperatures, there was a high  attendance at our Deanery Lent Meeting at Settle Parish Church on Tuesday evening. It's clear that many want to engage with the Lent series' exploration of the interaction between 'Rural Life and Village Church'.

We considered 'Our Warm Welcome' to all those who visit our churches: tourists on a day out; walkers; people visiting graves; members of the congregation; families; guests to weddings, funerals or baptisms; local school children, their teachers, staff and parents; people looking for a place of peace or solitude; elderly visitors, young children, and visitors with restricted mobility. 

The Very Revd John Dobson DL, Dean of Ripon, gave an informative and stimulating presentation about how the people of Ripon Cathedral are working out their mission to be 'a mother church of the diocese ... proclaiming the Good News of the Kingdom to the region'. He helpfully linked the cathedral's 'welcome ministry' to that of our parish churches, for whilst there are differences in scale, of course, there are many similarities. Many of us left the meeting keen to find ways to further extend our welcome to all.

Dean John reminded us that Jesus came ‘that they may have life, and have it abundantly…’ We should be proud of, and give thanks for the abundance of life which overflows from our churches: in their worship, in their history, in their life-in-community today. We can be grateful for the many opportunities which our churches afford, to extend a warm welcome to all. May each of us know that we can play a part in willingly welcoming all who are looking for something in these places for which we care, so that they will be blessed to find that something in them.

* from the excellent Welcome Guide from Exeter Diocese which 'helps churches look at their buildings with fresh eyes. This guide is full of lots of ideas as to how we can warm up our welcome and show our churches are open to all.' Recommended.

Home by Warsan Shire

Churches Weekly Newsletter - No.150, 5 March 2023

Warsan Shire reads her poem 'Home'. The complete poem follows:

Home

By Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbours running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilet
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you would not be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one would put their children in a boat
unless the sea is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
wants to be beaten
wants to be pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one's skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe it's because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.

i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hungry
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home

unless home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

 

(Warsan Shire is a Somali British writer and poet born in Nairobi and raised in London. She has written two chapbooks, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth and Her Blue Body. She was awarded the inaugural Brunel International African Poetry Prize and served as the first Young Poet Laureate of London. She is the youngest member of the Royal Society of Literature and is included in the Penguin Modern Poets series. Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head is her full-length debut poetry collection.)