Men, Women, Children and the new Bishop of Durham

It's a really big question: Why are there more women than men in the British church? I could, and have, write lots about this subject, but I was forcibly struck by one possible answer to it last Saturday. The occasion was the East Midlands Baptist Association Day and our main speaker was Bishop of Durham Elect, Rt Rev Paul Butler. This question was raised and he talked about reaching out to men, but stated very clearly that he didn't believe that the so called 'feminisation' of the church was the cause of the problem.

After the main session, I was leading a workshop on children's ministry and I think part of the answer might be found in that seminar. Of the twenty or so attenders only three were male. John Westerhoff talks about the 'hidden curriculum'; in other words our practice sometimes doesn't match our words, and it's our practice that teaches children what we are about. If little boys are taught that church is 'women's business' from their earliest days, they will struggle to see it as something for everyone regardless of gender when they are older.

It's a challenge to the men in our congregations: do you ever consider working in the Sunday School? Or is that women's work? Patterns of child care in the home are changing so where once men would actually be incompetent with children because they never looked after even their own children, they now regular care for, and spend time with small children. Is the problem to do with safeguarding? Perhaps men feel that they might be regarded with suspicion if they work with small children.

Whatever the problem is we need to address it, and we made a good start on Saturday. I'm pleased to say that one of the three men in my workshop was Bishop Paul. Given that he started his ministry in children's work with Scripture Union and has continued to prioritise this side of his ministry, I did feel pretty nervous about having him there - talk about teaching your grandmother to suck eggs! But most of all I think it sends a message that this workshop was as valuable and important as the others, because children are valuable and important, whether they are boys or girls.

A contribution to a debate about Empowerment and Theology

My friends and colleagues Becca Dean and Jo Dolby have been having some blog discussion about these topics here:

http://beccaislearning.com/post/34759763689/empowerment-and-theology-in-youth-work

and here:

http://beccaislearning.com/post/34772684733/jo-dolby-a-response-to-empowerment-and-theology

There were a lot of connections with some of the reading I've been doing so I thought I would put in my two penn'orth.

I’ve been thinking and reading about the end of Christian discipleship.  To clarify, when I say end, I don’t mean the finish of it, but rather the eventual aim of it, what is sometimes referred to as the telos.  I noticed that a lot of writers on Christian education were talking about different sorts of ethics and how at different times Christian discipleship had been shaped by different ethical styles.  Ethics is often divided into three styles: deontological or rules-based ethics, where behaviour is governed by a set of externally derived rules or laws; consequential ethics, where behaviour is governed by the outcome of a course of action, as in utilitarianism where the greatest good of the greatest number is sought; and virtue ethics where the character of the person is so imbued with virtues that in any given situation that person will behave in accordance with those virtues.  

In the Christian education context, the different styles have prevailed at different times, so at times Christians were taught that in order to be good they need to follow God’s rules, at other times they were taught that they needed to seek the good of others.  At the moment the underlying ethic seems to be moving towards virtue ethics and there seems to be some biblical warrant for the importance of shaping the character of a person so that they will then do what is right.  Educationalists such as Westerhoff and James K A Smith base their arguments on the originator of this approach, Aristotle, and it could be argued that the call to be transformed inwardly described in Romans 12:2 and Romans 5:1-5 is in line with it.

I think this is significant to the discussion Becca and Jo are having for two reasons.  The first is that it connects with the idea of absolute truth.  I think I agree that there is absolute truth; I’m just not sure that I (or anyone else) can be absolutely confident that I know what the meaning of that is.  I’ve noted elsewhere in my blog that Jesus says that he is the truth, and so I think my calling as a disciple is to know him rather than to seek for truth.  Absolute truth tends to fit more with a rules-based ethic and way of teaching; it suggests that if we could just know what the rule is, we could get it right, and we could then tell our children that rule and then they will be good.  It even tends towards a form of Gnosticism, which is not helpful (it’s actually heretical!) 

The second connection with Becca and Jo’s discussion is more methodological.  If the telos is to develop Christian virtues and character then we need to be equipping and empowering young people to develop those Christian virtues in themselves.  Aristotle develops his virtues based on Plato’s virtues of courage, temperance, justice, and prudence and suggests that these virtues and other minor virtues are developed in children by doing virtuous acts and thereby developing good habits leading in turn to human flourishing.  Wikipedia summarises it:  “people become virtuous by performing virtuous actions, which they might not have chosen themselves when young. They must develop proper habits during childhood and this usually requires help from teachers, parents, and law-makers.  A good community is normally required for the development of good people.”   This seems to me to connect with Jo’s scaffolding idea; young people need to be surrounded by a scaffold that supports them as they develop the inner habits of virtue.  These habits then become the ultimate empowering because young people are able to act in ways that make for the good life, for human flourishing not because of rules imposed on them, but because of their own internal virtue.

I’m still pondering the practical outworking of this, and my reading continues but I think it’s the beginnings of a paradigm shift for me in terms of my understanding of the task of discipleship which fits with the youth work value of empowerment.

p.s. In the interests of academic probity I should say that my thoughts and ideas at this stage are being shaped and refined by reading James K A Smith’s Desiring the Kingdom, Samuel Wells’ Improvisation: The Drama of Christian Ethics, John H. Westerhoff’s Will Our Children Have Faith, Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, as well as Wikipedia.  I also own a copy of MacIntyre's After Virtue...but I haven't read it yet!

p.p.s I am aware of the irony of using a pre-christian philosopher in my thinking but arguably both Plato and Aristotle have always been influential  on Christian education.

Handing on the flame Part Deux

On Saturday I blogged my reflections on the Olympic Opening Ceremony and had a few positive responses.  Since writing I’ve continued to think about what I mean and so I’m writing “Handing on the Flame, Part Deux” to carry on my internal conversation.  Feel free to join in.

Somewhere in the “Money” Chapter in Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster says (my summary) that Money has spiritual power because we want it and hold on to it.  By giving it away we break that spiritual power and free ourselves to have the relationship with money that God intended.  He suggests that we give away money not for the good it will do the people we give it to, but for our own sake, for our own spiritual health.  I think it’s the same principle that’s at work in the idea of the year of Jubilee.  If, every fifty years you have to give land back to the original owner you can’t become dependent on it for your sense of who you are;  you always have to know that everything we have belongs to God.  It forces a radical, paradigm shift in your understanding of wealth, power and privilege; it stops you from creating an identity based on what you can hold on to and instead forces you into a radical reliance on who you are in God.

I think that the model suggested by the Opening Ceremony has the same effect.  The Olympic heroes were in effect saying “This doesn’t belong to us; it’s bigger than what we have been and what we want” and the same would be true in the church.  We think that we can’t let young people be involved in the running of the church because they aren’t mature and wise; they don’t know enough to run it as well as we do.  What we’re really doing, though, is hanging on to our power and privilege.  Maybe this is why so many found the ceremony so moving, and why some others found it so offensive.  It was moving because it offered an opposite vision of what could be, and it was offensive because it challenged people’s ideas about a world based on prestige and success.

Cyd Zeigler on SB.com said this, which rather epitomises this attitude:

“The grand finale, the moment I was waiting for most, was the revealing of the lighter of the flame. So many great options were floated out there...and they chose one more boring and more forced than any other I'd heard: Seven no-name young athletes. I'm sorry, you've got to earn that honor. You've got to achieve greatness before you get to light the Olympic flame. You've got to inspire a nation. Instead, the event producers decided to hand the honor to a bunch of kids.”

I rather think he missed the point; that by giving away the honour to “a bunch of kids” Danny Boyle did indeed inspire a whole nation and maybe even further afield.

The Opening Ceremony programme says this:

“But we hope, too, that through all the noise and excitement you’ll glimpse a single golden thread of purpose – the idea of Jerusalem – of the better world, the world of real freedom and true equality, a world that can be built through the prosperity of industry, through the caring notion that built the welfare state, through the joyous energy of popular culture, through the dream of universal communication. A belief that we can build Jerusalem. And that it will be for everyone.”*

Maybe the same applies to the church: if we give the future of the church to our children, as terrifying as that sounds, the shift in our souls will be so profound that the church will be transformed into something we never dreamed possible. 

*Isn't it interesting that the image Boyle used is of Jerusalem, the city where God meets his people.

Handing on the flame

I watched the Olympic Opening Ceremony last night and was moved in many ways, but the part I found most moving and resonant was the lighting of the cauldron.  There has been a tradition of the person lighting the cauldron receiving the highest honour, and it is given to an individual whose achievement is above and beyond any other.  The British media and blogosphere has been speculating about who will receive this honour, with some cynicism.  The underlying feeling has been that it will go to someone who doesn’t quite deserve it but who has managed to somehow wangle it because of privilege and position, and I must admit to sharing some of that cynicism.

How wrong I was!  The flame was brought into the stadium by someone who is indisputably our great Olympian, Sir Steve Redgrave.  But then a miracle occurred.  He handed it to a group of young, unknown athletes.  The commentator Huw Edwards described it as “the transfer of the privilege and honour of lighting the flame.”  It was handed to seven unknowns, young people who are just starting out, as yet untried and unproven, but full of potential.  It was handed on by an older generation who recognised their potential and saluted and supported them in that.  The rest of us watched and cheered them on.  Huw went on to observe “Seven Great British Olympic heroes offering that honour to these young athletes”.  In other words it was freely given in recognition of hope in the future, offering, but not imposing on them, a vision of all that’s best in our life together.

It’s notable that it was given not to one, but to a team, as part of a ceremony that valued the contribution of not just the great and the physically able, but included the deaf, the old, the builders and plumbers, the Queen, children, nurses.  It was a ceremony that showed our pride in who we are and our hope for the future, served up with a dose of affection and humour.

It struck me forcibly that this is what the church could, and should be, in particular, and most importantly, the way in which we hand on the flame of faith to the next generation.  Let’s not wait until they have to tear it out of our cold, dead hands, by which time they have grown bitter and tired of waiting.  Let’s put our faith in them and the future and hand it on while they are still full of vision and energy, passion and life.  Let’s not keep the power and privilege to ourselves but lay it down in the hope that something new and vibrant will grow.  

I could go on about the changes that have occurred between how the Olympics was in 1948 and how it is now; training methods, the style of the opening ceremony, the nations taking part, the addition of technology.  Of course the 2012 Games don’t look like the 1948 games, but it’s still the Olympic Games and no amount of politicking or abuse of its values seems to damage what it is.

Paul said, in his letter to the Philippians: “…one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenwards in Christ Jesus.” And maybe this should offer a vision for us not just as individuals but as a whole people of God.

A modest proposal

A few years ago I read somewhere* of a proposal that when a couple with children split up, the house and the money needed to maintain it as a household should remain with the children, and the two parents should alternate which of them lives there.  This is in contrast to the current arrangement where two parents maintain households and the children move back and forth between them.

The thinking behind this novel idea was that if we say that the needs of the children come first, then what children need is a stable, consistent home environment, and the fact that the two parents no longer want to live together shouldn’t deny them this.  They should have their home, which is near their school and their friends, with their own rooms and possessions in one place.  The parents on the other hand, if they want to be part of their children’s lives, have to shuttle back and forth between their children’s home and any other home they might want to have.

You can see straight away that adults would complain that this idea is completely unworkable because parents would never know where they were, they would get confused, they wouldn’t have the things they need around them, they would never be able to relax, nowhere would feel like home, and they might have to spend time away from a new partner they love and want to be with.

But this is what children of separated parents have to go through all the time and it just adds to the pain and suffering that the breakdown of a relationship causes.

I’m actually not telling this story because I have an axe to grind about divorce, which is going to be painful and difficult no matter how it’s managed, but because I think our response to this proposal says something very important about the way we view children in our society.  We use a rhetoric of them being important and that their needs must be met first, but our actions say something different.  The axe I do want to grind is that this is what happens in church life.  We say that children matter, that they are important, but, when it comes to putting their needs before our own, we somehow miss the mark.

Us Baptists have been talking recently about re-imagining the future, but I wonder what church would look like if we wiped the slate completely clean and then started again with what children need to grow in faith?  Then fitted adult needs in after that…recognising that some might not be met because our best has been used for the children.  It would as startling and radical as the proposal I started with, but it might also mean that we assure the future not only of the children who grow up through it, but of the church itself.

How are you reacting to that???  What does your reaction mean?

*If anyone can tell me where I read or heard it I'd be grateful

What is it Bartholomew?

“What is it Bartholomew?”

“Sorry to bother you Peter, but these kids want to see the Master”

Peter steps out of the doorway.

Twitching about behind Bartholomew are a handful of tatty looking children.  The oldest looks to be about ten, and she’s holding a chubby toddler.  The toddler looks sleepy and has obviously recently eaten something sticky; his hands and face are glazed with a mixture of it and some unpleasant looking mucus.  The girl looks scrawny and wary; her jeans are a bit too small and her coat has a rip in the sleeve.  She’s obviously the leader of a group that includes an assortment of children aging from about four up to a similar size to the girl.

Peter’s heart sinks.  Being the Master’s tour manager is hard enough, what with the groupies, the poor, and the downright wicked, never mind the gang of sick people hovering and humming at a distance like flies.  But children!

Each person takes up so much time; they whine about problems and illness and ask stupid questions.  And the information pack won’t shut them up; they just want to get in to see him in person.  The Catering Manager is trying to get hold of him, the on-site hygiene facilities team has a broken down truck and that Health and Safety Risk Assessment Document is only half done.  Peter can’t remember the last time he was in bed before midnight and he has a constant tweak of pain just above his right eye.

Peter muses about how it all started.  Andrew said he was a wonder worker and Peter instantly saw himself as a big man, a man on the way, a man of importance.  He never thought he would be worrying about Portaloos.

And now this!  He takes Bartholomew off to one side. 

“The thing is” he whispers “The thing is, the whole operation’s geared for adults.  If we’re going to let children in we’ll have to provide chaperones, there’ll need to be a safeguarding policy, We’ll have to get everybody CRB checked.  We’ll need to get changing mats.  It’s all just too complicated”

Bartholomew nods.

“But they’ve been waiting all day” he presses.  “They’ve driven me crackers.  They’ve climbed on everything, eaten everything they could find, the baby has been sick twice, and weed on my shoe.  I swear one of those boys has been picking pockets, and they’ve been shouting rude names at the old ladies”

“Well that settles it” says Peter decisively “We can’t let kids like that in.  And in any case they won’t understand what he’s talking about; I hardly do a lot of the time”

“But they’ve waited all day”

“A problem, Peter?”

Peter spins round.

“No Master, we’re just getting rid of them.  Sorry to have bothered you with such a rabble”

The Master sighs and grins at Peter and Bartholomew, then he sits down on the step and beckons to the children.  He takes the snotty baby off the girl and cuddles it onto his lap.  It promptly wipes its face on his shirt and falls asleep. 

“So what are your names then?  Come and tell me where you’re from”

The children gather round, and the waiting queue of people sees what’s happening and comes over to listen. 

The Master draws one of the little boys towards himself and puts his arm round the boys shoulder.  The boy relaxes and leans against him.

“Let me tell you what my Father’s Kingdom is like”

Shame - what I don't want in my work

I’m reading this book (Shame: Theory, Therapy, Theology by Stephen Pattison) in connection with an essay I’m writing theologically reflecting on discipline in youth club contexts.  The general idea is that the leaders of a youth club have to manage behaviour so that young people are safe physically and emotionally.  This means that the leaders, who are usually adults, need to be able to do something in relation to young people that addresses behaviour where that safety is compromised.

There are some limits, and rightly so, on what adults can do in this situation.  We can’t use any kind of corporal punishment, and it isn’t good practice to use manipulations such as ridicule or threats, again rightly so.  Stephen Pattison makes a very strong case that shame is more pervasive and destructive than we might initially think, and that Christian faith, and church communities, are particularly vulnerable to problematic shame. 

He discusses the impact that being shamed by others can have in later life and describes some of the ways shaming happens.  This has led me to reflect on the way I work with young people.  I wonder if there are things I do unconsciously which have a shaming effect?  When you work with young people there’s a certain amount of banter that goes on both between young people, and between young people and adults working with them.  The risk is that this can cross a line and become something that is damaging or shaming to young people. 

Another situation that might induce shame is where someone’s failure is pointed out to them, especially if others witness it.  It occurred to me that one of the things we use as a sanction in our youth club might be doing this.  If a young person is behaving in a way that impacts safety and refuses to stop when asked, then we might call their family and ask them to take their son or daughter home.   This will have the effect of shaming that young person to the people that matter the most to her or him.

I’m still pondering Pattison’s writing but I know I would never want to add to the burden of shame so many people carry.  There are some examples of Jesus interacting with wrong-doers and he seems to avoid adding to their shame.   In the story of Zacchaeus, everyone knows Zacchaeus has done wrong but Jesus’ action in inviting himself round for a meal seems almost the opposite of shaming.  Similarly, when he speaks to the Samaritan woman in John 4 and the woman caught in adultery in John 8, he manages to address their wrong actions but also to avoid shaming them any further than they already have been.  

So my question is: How does that translate into dealing with behaviour in the youth club?  To ask the obvious question: If Jim kept waving the pool cue around like that at Youthspace Capernaum, What Would Jesus Do?

Disney Princesses

If you know me you’ll know that I am a feminist.  This means there are certain things that, as Peter Griffin would say, grind my gears.  One of these is the cultural phenomenon of Disney Princesses, and, in fact, the wider world of Disney-ness.  Because I have some antipathy towards it I’m not particularly well versed in the wacky world of impossibly tiny waists, large but strangely asexual bosoms and bizarre coloured but always long and flowing hair that is Disney Princess world.  I’m troubled that princesses are portrayed as helpless and infantilised, in need of a usually male rescuer and only get that because they are beautiful.  It must be hard being a really unattractive Disney princess, doomed to spend your life up a tower, fast asleep, enslaved to a witch or whatever, simply because you were unlucky enough to have been born with mousy frizzy hair, or a less than retroussé nose.  Heaven help you if you’ve got a flat chest or child bearing calves!!!

You might wonder why I have suddenly felt the need to get in such an unfeminine tizzy about this, but it’s because of Mike Pilavachi!  Well, not him personally, but rather Soul Survivor.  This year the fancy dress theme was announced as Disney and people were encouraged to dress up as Disney characters.  Why do we yet again lay these unhelpful images on our girls and young women?  The only Disney film I come anywhere near liking is Mulan, because she shows some spirit and takes on a man’s world and wins.  But even that is ultimately disappointing because in the end she goes home to become a daughter, a wife, and presumably a mother, even though she was offered a top job in government.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing dishonourable about being a wife and mother, I’m both, but couldn’t she have had a crack at running China first?  Surely, Soul Survivor, you could have come up with a theme that doesn’t so easily separate and stereotype boys and girls, a theme that encouraged creativity and fun, without putting so much pressure on the girls to be beautiful and passive, and the boys to be manly and covered in six-packs and strong jaws. 

It's a numbers game

I’m reading this at the moment:


http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gospel-Driven-Church-Retrieving-Ministries-Contemporary/dp/184227290X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300798109&sr=8-1

and I say AMEN to his critique of our obsession with numbers as the only measure of success in church life. We need to remember, as Mark Yaconelli pointed out, that Jesus only discipled 12 people, and one of them handed him over to be killed and another pretended he didn't know who Jesus was. In the end he died alone because they all ran off. This is true gospel success.

So here's a challenge to my youth ministry friends: try to stop using numbers when you talk about your work. It's very difficult because even if you can stop yourself it's very difficult when that's the only question other people ask you about what you do. And the next hard step is to stop asking your youth ministry friends how many come to their groups.

This is something I’ve been trying to do for a while and I have found it very difficult. That in itself is interesting. What is it in me that wants to boast of bigger? When someone does it to me I feel belittled and inadequate, or superior and puffed up, so why do I want to do that to someone else? And why do I speak about my ministry as God’s work, but if I have a big number to boast of, suddenly feel like it’s because of my own ability as a youth minister? It’s also very challenging when you talk to another youth minister and they ask “So how many do you get to that club” to look them in the eye and say “a good crowd” or “Some nice young people”. Why does refusing to say a number feel like such a subversive act? Maybe youth workers should practice it as a Lenten discipline.

Stackhouse argues that it’s a product of revivalist theology (he makes a very good argument; I would urge you to read the book). I agree with his thinking, but would also add for youth ministers two more pressures. Firstly, the secular model of youth work that demands quantitative data about youth work, rather than thinking about quality, has filtered into Christian youth ministry, particularly those of us who are professionally qualified and paid by churches. And that’s the second pressure; churches who see the youth minister’s job as filling the church, so who look for the proverbial “bums on seats” rather than the quality of discipleship, who see their youth worker lurking in coffee shops rather than herding great crowds of young people through the baptismal pool, and wonder if they are getting value for money.

It seems to me that that the numbers game, however it arises, is based on shaky ideas of what christian faith is, and more importantly, who young people and youth workers are. Fundamentally a young person, or a youth worker, is created in the image of God, and therefore is a unique, individual creation. When what is done with, to, for, or at this young person is looked at through a lens of numerical success, this image is distorted, because they become an object to be counted, not a person to be related to. This is why Jesus was so subversive; he wouldn’t conform to the pressure to achieve success. Every time it was offered to him he turned away from it. The story of his temptation that we reflect on during Lent is an example of this. If Jesus was a youth worker today, the Devil would say to him, “Bow down to me and I’ll give you a really big youth group”. Instead he prioritised people as individuals, meeting them in their need, sharing their pain and challenging them to a life of discipleship. This kind of work happens at meal tables, in coffee shops, walking along together, in sitting rooms, not in vast crowds where nobody knows anybody, but somebody knows the numbers.