Standing tall

I really should stop looking at Pinterest...it just makes me mad...although it's also starting to make me bored too so it won't be long.   But while I'm here, here's what's making me mad today:



Well, it's an example of it.   Can you see what I mean?  Let me tell you:  look at the way she's standing!  Have you noticed that not only do lots of women in fashion shots look so thin a good breeze would blow them away, they also stand as if they haven't quite learnt how to do it yet?   What is that strange stance for?  Toes turned in, legs slightly awkward looking; it's like those nature films of baby giraffes struggling to stand for the first time.  Since when did looking like you could barely walk upright become a standard of beauty for young women?  It has a weird kind of apologetic look about it, like we shouldn't really be out in public.

This is how a woman should stand; upright, feet firmly on the ground, ready for what she needs to do and making no apology for who she is or what she's doing.

Jessica Ennis not apologising for what she's doing

I've just been reading Tina Fey's great book Bossypants (thanks for the recommendation Becca) and she talks (a lot!) about what it is to be a woman in a male dominated industry.  She expresses her admiration for her female colleague whose response when a male colleague says he doesn't like a gag she has written says "I don't ****ing care if you like it"  In other words, no apology for failing to please, or for existing, or participating in the world.  I bet she stands like Jessica Ennis.

A Writer's Life

I occasionally fancy myself as a writing type of woman; I read Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own” and I admire and appreciate good writing.  I read critically and wonder if I could do better.  I’m supposed to be writing part of my dissertation right now, in fact, so I could argue that I am already writing as part of my career…but clearly not because I’m avoiding it by writing this piece instead.

You can imagine, therefore, how encouraged I feel to read the convoluted machinations that a highly respected and established writer and academic such as Mary Beard goes through in thinking about her writing.  You’ll also notice that my other avoidance tactic is finding interesting writing on the internet!

I’m also extremely jealous of her library bed and tidy study.

Thoughts of a Grumpy Old Pinterester

When I’m at a bit of a loose end I quite like flicking through a magazine.  I haven’t got time to get involved in a good book, I just want to be a bit distracted by looking at some pretty clothes, something funny, a nice kitchen, or a new recipe.  I don’t take it too seriously and it is just something to fill a moment of quiet between one thing and the next.  Trouble is, I don’t often buy magazines so I don’t usually have any to hand.  That’s why I like Pinterest; it’s an easily accessible, ever updating magazine.

I’ve started to notice a few problems with it though.  Firstly, it works like pornography.  Those who talk about the effects of pornography say that although it isn’t technically infidelity, by thinking about someone other than your significant other you think about having someone else, you compare what you have with what you could have, you see other people having better things than what you have and you start to feel dissatisfied with what you have and then you feel unhappy.  Pinterest does the same thing; you go from “That’s a pretty bedroom” to “It’s prettier than my bedroom” to “Why does she get to have that pretty bedroom?” to “I hate my bedroom”.  Now, I love my home; we’ve lived there for nearly twenty years; it’s the home my husband and I have made for and with our two children and it contains more than just the stuff we own.  Of course I would change things if I could, but it works well enough and actually I can't be bothered with constant home improvement.  But I’m noticing a little worm gnawing at my contentment with it.  Pinterest!  I’m watching you!  I do not need a villa on a Spanish Island, or a free standing bath with spa jets.

The second thing I’ve noticed is the cute sentiments that get propagated around it in no time!  Things like this:

Really people?  Is that true or is it just a way to make someone feel better about not having the courage to sort out something in an honourable way that doesn’t destroy other people in the process?

Or this one:

Are you sure???  What sort of sick, masochistic God do you follow???  Please explain the theology of this?

And don't get me started on what people do with scripture!!!  Look at this:

Totally ignoring what the verse is actually about, justifying bad behaviour and worshiping the God of pulling yourself up by your own efforts!

Maybe we should actually analyse what the outworkings of these sentiments are before we scatter them around…the more they spread around the more people tend to view them as truth.  As I finally reach the stage of Grumpy Old Woman-ness I’m getting a bit outspoken about it.  If you follow me on Pinterest I’ve started a board called Things to Question.  Even if nobody else reads it, it makes me feel like I’m asking myself some important questions about what I’m seeing.

And finally, a big bee in my bonnet: so many images of women looking either like skeletons or like freaky body builders, with lots of exhortations to perform 3000 jumping jacks so I can look the same.  Occasionally images appear of curvier women, but sadly they are usually connected to dodgy sites!  Why are we doing this to ourselves?  Isn’t it enough that men do it to us, and increasing to themselves as well!  Let's have more of this:

I’m not even going to start on American understandings of cooking* but suffice it to say that I’m looking at Pinterest in a more thoughtful way these days.  

*No!  Opening 3 jars and adding them to a can of ready made “Biscuit Dough” does not constitute cooking from scratch.  And NO!  reducing the number of ingredients by using packets and jars does not make it a good recipe!

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.

Women in the church

I’ve been reading Rachel Held Evan's  blog and others connected with it for a while now, and have been really interested in thinking about the role of women in the church for years now.  I’ve been a feminist for as long as I can remember and have been fortunate enough to be an ordained minister in a denomination that doesn’t have a problem with that (in theory…but practice is a bit of an issue in place, but that’s a whole other blog).

Today I read this blog  (These square pegs) and the comments associated with it.  I also recalled the different conversations I’ve had over the years with people, mainly women, who talk about how they like the church community they’re part of but struggle with the attitude and teaching on women’s roles in the church.  I’m particularly moved by the depth of emotion expressed by Liz when she talks about how often the church she is part of now talks about Colossians 3.  Please note this isn’t directed at those folks who say that they don’t like the complementarian position but that it’s not a deal-breaker for them – my questions are aimed at those who expressed a lot of pain and frustration about it.

The question I want to ask Liz, and all those other women who have “settled” in a church that has a complementarian position is “Why do you stay?”  If you are so upset and so hurt by the position your church community takes why do you stay silent?  Why do you give tacit support to a structure that makes you scream at the injustice?  There are plenty of loving, godly church communities where your many gifts and callings can be recognised and where you will not have to sit in the Lord’s house every Sunday feeling so righteously angry.  Is it because to leave would be uncomfortable? Might split your family?  Might mean you would have to say out loud what you think?  Because you’re probably right.  My next question is “What injustice would your church community have to commit before you felt you had to speak up?”

If you did speak up about it a lot of other people might say they feel the same way.  And if you did leave and remove your support and encouragement, and all the other women did the same then the men leading these unjust structures might actually be forced to read their bibles again.  And then maybe your daughters wouldn’t have to be so hurt by their fathers in the way that you were.

Sometime later:

I wrote this blog a few weeks ago but never got round to posting it but then I read Sophia Network's blog and was reminded of it.  I was particularly stirred by this:

“It strikes me that to believe in something means that you must live out of that belief – so that is what I have done. I am deeply uncomfortable with the view that you hold a position, but do nothing about it because of fear of what others might say, think or do. So for me, being committed to the view that I hold meant that I could not secretly hold it, but must play my part in advocating it, teaching it, practicing it and living it out – albeit within the context of Christian community, sensitivity and seeking not to be an offence to others. I cannot control whether other people are offended by my view – but I will not pretend not to hold it.”

And I was stirred up enough to say my piece as well; I’m sorry if doing this causes some offence, particularly to my sisters who have already been wounded by the churches they belong to, but if you’re sitting in a church that makes you feel less valued because you’re a woman, please consider speaking up, or leaving it.

I also want to thank Malcolm and other brothers like him who see this as a gospel issue and are not prepared to remain silent.

Sticks and Stones...

…may break my bones but words will never hurt me.  It just not true though is it?  The words we use, and the way we use them can be directly hurtful, or can perpetuate stereotypes and understandings that need to be challenged.

A set of phrases I have occasionally challenged are those that suggest that bravery is a male attribute.  This is perpetuated in phrases such as “He screamed like a little girl” which suggests that such a person’s courage has failed them because everyone knows that women aren’t brave!  Tell that to….Oh any of the brave women in history!

The other phrases that are used are variants of  “Grow some” (meaning grow some testicles, i.e. become a mature man), or more obviously “Man up, mate.”  Arguably, from one man to another these last two could be commenting on age and maturity rather than gender, in which case the use of them could be justified.  My worry is that I’ve heard them used among young women as well and I’ve pondered what equivalent women could use when encourage one another without diminishing them as women.

So Ladies/Women/Wimmin (use as preferred), if we are going use colloqialisms, I offer you:

“Come on! Grow some boobs”  and “Woman up!”  

M&S Finest :-)

I also like, but can’t claim credit for: “Put on your big girl pants!”  I said the first two to a young woman colleague and they made her laugh…and then say “Yes, I need to”

In my head they create an image of women rolling up their sleeves, standing up for themselves, getting dressed to take on the big wide world on their terms, and that’s an image I like.  So please don't be offended if I urge you to grow some boobs and put on your big girl pants - I'm encouraging you to step up to all you are as a woman, with pride, courage and dignity, in underwear that says practical, sexy, pretty and comfortable.

A vote of thanks

I would like to take this opportunity to offer a vote of thanks to the makers of Snow White and the Hunstman.  Because I have spent slightly more than two hours of my life this evening watching this film I now no longer need to watch any of the following films:

• The Lord of the Rings series
• The Harry Potter series
• The Narnia Series
• El Cid
• Robin Hood – Prince of Thieves (or possibly the other one with Russell Crowe which I haven’t seen)
• Princess Mononoke (and possible most of the rest of Studio Ghibli)
• Avatar
• Disney’s Snow White

Which, allowing an average of two hours per film makes roughly 59 hours saved (Add a further six hours for the extended editions of LOTR).  It also saved me the time and expense of taking a holiday on the lovely Pembrokeshire coast since the scene that was reminiscent of Charlton Heston’s beach cavalry attack in El Cid was filmed on Marloes Sands.

I am using the time saved to ponder the following questions:

• Why is Kristen Stewart unable to keep her mouth closed?  She made a couple of valiant attempts in this film but generally failed.
• What was the back-story on the Bridge Troll? Why did SW’s scream defeat him?  Would he go back to his old ways until the Three Billy Goats Gruff come along?  I suspect there was some more story here but it’s on the cutting room floor – should have cut the whole story-line IMHO.
• What were the likes of Bob Hoskins, Ian McShane, Ray Winstone, Eddie Marsan et al thinking, other than “Nice pay check”?
• Where was Warwick Davis and the rest of the band of short actors who have been doing good work in the past few years (mainly in the above mentioned films)?  Surely they are the go-to place for any dwarf casting?  But seriously, it’s a bit like blacking up Sir Laurence Olivier to play Othello!
• Why did the dwarves not figure out that one of them was doomed, since we started out with eight?  Have they not read Brothers Grimm?  It couldn't have been more obvious if he’d been wearing a red top!
• Wouldn’t it have been funny if, when SW awoke from her ‘death’ her eyelids popped open to reveal red vampire eyes?

On the plus side this film would pass the Bechdel Test with flying colours since the two female leads do talk about things besides men for most of the film, as do the other female characters.  The only bum note was when SW was looking for volunteers for her army, which she was planning to lead, she asked “Who will be my brother?”  Bit of a stopper for the many women who were portrayed as fighters, particularly the lake women, who had trained themselves to fight.  Especially as the army then actually did appear consist entirely of men, apart from SW herself.  Still it was nice to see a woman saving herself through her own integrity and ferocity, while men played a supporting role. 

I also had a nice night out with my daughter; her verdict, as we stood up to leave, "That was the crappest film in the world, and the woman behind me kept kicking me"

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

A little note of amusement...

You might have noticed I didn't post much in May...I was amusing myself with a little experiment.  I noticed that I got fairly steady traffic on the blog and it seemed to be heading mostly for a post about Lord of the Rings.  I wondered what that meant.  so I haven't posted anything and have thereby possibly discovered the secret of sustaining moderate blog traffic:  Write a post about LOTR.  It might help that I mentioned Legolas's blonde hair, but basically a whole load of folks (20-30 a day) looking for something interesting about their fave film ended up on my blog.  I'm just thankful none of them have been rude about it.

Why I love young people

The main reason I am a youth worker is that I love young people (in a good way ;-)  I love their energy, their enthusiasm, their fresh look at life, and I especially love it when they see through stuff.

It's part of the tragedy of being a teenager that there are a lot of people trying to get them to believe a whole lot of rubbish about themselves, like "You have to be thin/buff/blonde to be beautiful" or "There is no hope for you".  I have to say that the intarwebs haven't always helped with this.  Images of what beauty is supposed to be are plastered everywhere, stories about what a waste of space teenagers are abound, and places like Facebook and Tumblr repeat and spread banal sentimental messages that actually mean very little.  Sometimes young people fall for these and post them*.  But ocassionally a very savvy young person spots the underlying BS and calls it!  Like this image:




















Kudos to the girl in the bottom pic!  And other young people:  don't be afraid to ask what's really going on!

*Although they may repost them because they express something the young person couldn't find words for themselves and if that's the case that's OK :-)

This amuses me - advice on how to pick up chicks

Lunchtime Musings

I had a sneaky Whopper for my lunch today – a occasional guilty  pleasure*.  And while I was there I took this picture:

I spent the time it took me to stuff my face pondering this sign and came to the conclusion that although there is a blatant lie being proclaimed, there is also a beautiful nearly truth.  It turned my brief lunch into a moment of prayer and worship.

The lie is that I have the right to have what I want exactly when I want it.  The UN Convention on Human Rights suggests that I do have some rights simply because I am a human being, and my citizenship of the United Kingdom confers on me some more rights.  My marital status and employment give some more rights and as a consumer I have rights that relate to the goods and services I buy.  But no-one, anywhere, comes in any way close to giving me the right to have what I want, when I want it.  I sometimes do actually get what I want; I got a Double Whopper with Cheese, but I had to wait until after the meeting I went to in order to get it.  I also sometimes get something when I want it; I usually get dinner at around 6 ‘o clock, but what it is depends on a whole load of variables and I sometimes have to eat what I’m given, not what I want.

This lie is the lie that consumerism tells us over and over again and it’s very damaging because it sets us up for disappointment when life behaves normally and gives us a mixture of good and bad based on often random and arbitrary circumstances.  It’s also very ironic because it carries a suggestion of ultimate and total freedom, whilst actually catching us in the most insidious trap.  Do you notice that they say "We may be the King?"  They don't let you have all the power.  In fact if you went in and ordered a KFC you would find out they they are pretty much in control**.

The beautiful nearly truth in the poster is this: I am Today’s Special, and tomorrow’s and the next day… But I’m special not on the menu of life, but on the menu of God.  He knew me before I was born and my name is written on his hand.  In response to BK I say “You may be King of Burgers, but Jesus is King of Kings, and I my friend, am a child of his Father, which makes me a Princess.” 

*It was a celebration treat for finishing my essays, which is why I haven't been around much.
** Wouldn't you just love to demand a Big Mac and then threaten to sue them under the Trades Descriptions Act when they refuse???

More motherly pride

A few weeks back I wrote about how proud I am of my daughter's many accomplishments.  Today I'm going to give a shout out about my equally talented son.  Tom is a film maker...we bought him a Macbook when he was about 14 because we wanted to support his very talented music making, and then he discovered its potential for film making.  If you go to his Youtube channel (Tom's Youtube) you'll see how he has developed his skills over the past couple of years.  He isn't one for school work, but his application and focus to becoming a better film maker has been remarkable and the results are amazing.

His latest offering shows how accomplished he has become:
Tom's latest masterpiece

I have to say that it isn't for the fainthearted, as he likes to play with some quite gory special effects, (I can vouch for the fact that no-one was hurt in the making of this film), so if you are a bit sensitive it might not be for you, but if you can take a look I think you'll be impressed at his technical and creative skill...I know I am.

John 15...

Jesus said:

I’m the mobile phone network and you are the iPhones.  If you don’t have my SIM card installed in you, you can’t connect to the network and then you can’t use all your apps.  If you aren’t connected to the network then you are a useless bit of kit and God will tidy you away.  But when you have my SIM card fitted in you, you will be able to be useful and helpful, with lots of good apps and people will know that you are connected to a really good network.

Spiritual Director? Problem solved!

I’m doing a lot of extremely heavy reading about the theology of Baptist Church meetings for an essay and I need some light relief in between times.  I’ve returned, as I often do, to an old favourite; the Starbridge series by Susan Howatch.  This series of six novels portray the history of the Church of England in the 20^th Century through the lives of some fictional clergymen (they were all men in those days!) from different wings of the Anglican Church as they wrestle with the inner and outer forces at work in their lives.

I first read them probably in the late nineties and have re-read them regularly ever since with a growing sense of understanding.  When I first read them the human stories were gripping but I didn’t understand the references to theologians and theological movements, which didn’t matter in the least.  Now I have done a bit of reading and so when one of the protagonists protests about Karl Barth’s influence on the neo-conservative movement I actually get what they’re talking about and I feel a little frisson of pleasure about it (that’s how sad I have become!) as well as still enjoying the tales of people trying to serve God whilst grappling with their human failings.

In my minister’s cluster we were recently discussing spiritual direction; what it’s for, the pros and cons, how to find one and what to look for in one.  I said “Has anyone read the Starbridge novels, because if you have, you’ll understand when I say I want Jon Darrow for my spiritual director”.  A colleague started nodding and a side discussion of the novels ensued, with us discussing which character we would want for our spiritual director!

The Return of the Prodigal

I was reflecting on this famous painting the other day. Actually at a very nice lady’s funeral – she liked the painting so it was on display during the service.  As I looked at it I was dramatically struck, in a way I hadn’t been before, of the postures of the three main characters.  The son is, as might be expected, kneeling abjectly at the feet of his father.  He looks tatty and half-starved, because he is.  He’s made a big mess-up and he knows it and he hopes the father will allow him to work as a servant on the farm.  The father has responded to this by embracing the son; his arms enfold him, drawing his face into the father’s robes, surrounding him with the warmth and safety of his cloak.  What a rush of relief the Prodigal’s heart must feel to be pulled back into the familiar smell and feel of his father’s love.  The father’s face is gentle and accepting, full of love.

But off to the side is another figure, and to me he almost looks incidental to the painting, like he wandered in by mistake.  He seems to unbalance the picture, and simply stands staring down at the display in front of him, hands protectively across his chest.  He is richly dressed, and his face appears to be disapproving and remote.  Who is he?  He could be a passing official, a customer, anything unconnected with the story.  But he is actually the older brother.  He is the one who stayed with the father after the son left, but it doesn’t look like he had much joy of it.   I don’t know what your family is like; mine isn’t super close, but I can say for definite that if one of my siblings disappeared and was thought dead I would be heart-broken.  And if that sibling then returned after some time I would not be standing around looking disapproving.  Despite all our ups and downs I love my sisters and brother and their safe return home would make any differences and squabbles trivial compared to the great joy of knowing that my family was once more safe and whole.  I would be happy for my parents, having watched them suffer a period of sadness thinking they had lost a child.  To know that they didn’t have to live with that pain any more would mean something to me.

That’s the point of the story though.  We’ve lost sight of it because of its familiarity, but Jesus was talking to a group of religious leaders who were moaning that he was welcoming the wrong sort, and this was his response to that.  Because for the last two thousand years we’ve identified with the younger son, we haven’t noticed that we might have become the older son.  We are safe at home in church where we have everything the way we want it, but when younger sons turn up having made big messes we are more interested in the rules they have broken than the knowledge that our family is whole again.  That’s what struck me about the painting: the thing that is so wrong about the painting is not the son or the father’s behaviour, it’s the older brother whose posture jars so badly.  He shouldn’t be standing out there looking daggers, he should be in the thick of the embrace of his family.

There was a delicate synergy at work here, because the lady whose funeral I was at was a member of the welcoming team at church and she was one of the most welcoming and embracing people I knew.  She had a way of offering a kindness and acceptance to all who came through the door that was truly beautiful and she will be greatly missed by many.

More on my talented daughter

Very atmospheric

My daughter Ellie is going on a trip to Kosovo this summer with the church youth group.  They’re going to help out in an orphanage and spend some time seeing what it’s like there.  The group have been coming up with a variety of schemes to raise money for their trip, such as car washing and baby sitting.  But Ellie had a stroke of genius:  Ellie’s Pop-up Restaurant.  For £10 a head Ellie will cook and serve a three course meal (chosen from the menu she has designed) at our house.  For a further £10 her friend will baby-sit.  All the money goes to the Kosozo trip.

Anticipation

Yesterday evening was her opening night, with the lovely S family coming for dinner.  Ellie spent the afternoon preparing food and laying the table.  The menu was:

• Fresh Tomato Bruschetta

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• Salmon Tikka with Cucumber Raita and Naan Bread for Mrs and Ms. S
• Cauliflower and Macaroni Cheese for Mr S

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• Banoffee Pie for Mr & Mrs S
• Warm Chocolate Brownie for Ms S

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• Coffee and Mints

Chocolate Brownie

 The table looked lovely and the food was delicious, and Ellie cooked and served everything with great style and skill.  The S family were great customers and enjoyed themselves a lot.  Ellie was tired but happy and hoping for more bookings.  

Banoffee Pie

There’s plenty of  Saturdays between now and August when they go, so book early to avoid disappointment J

A new source of reading goodness

I love reading – if I’m stuck somewhere and I’ve got nothing to do I have to read something, which is one of the reasons I love my iPhone so much.  As long as I’ve got some internet access I can get something to read to pass the time.  I just wish I could read while I’m driving.  And before you shout, talking books don’t work for me quite so well, but they’re better than nothing.

So when I find a new resource with lots of things to read I get very excited and want to share the love.  Third Way magazine has been around for ages (since 1977 apparently) and you can pay £38 for a year’s subscription, which I’m thinking about doing.  But, while I’m thinking about that, the archives from 1977 to 2008 are available online via Google Books!!! That’s 31 years of 12 issues a year available for online perusal!

Oh dear…this is going to be a serious challenge to my self-discipline when I’m supposed to be reading for an essay.

You can find Third Way here and there’s a link in the tabs to the archives.  Happy Reading.

Pet Peeve

Sometimes I find myself sitting down with a cuppa and flicking on the TV and it just so happens that the program that is on is "UK Border Force".  I have to say, it's the bottom end of reality TV and I'm not sure why I bother.

There is one feature though that it has in common with many other crime reality shows and that is the way many in the law enforcement community refer to "males" and "females".  In my first life I was a zoologist (briefly) and these terms are used as nouns to describe animals when you need to distinguish gender.  So if you're watching a group of elephants you might say "The large male is walking towards the females".

In my mind this is OK when you're talking about animals but not humans.  When you refer to someone as a man or a woman you also make a statement about their humanity because these words are only ever used about humans.  When you use male or female as a noun when talking about people it seems to me to have a de-humanising effect.

So to return to UK Border Force; the Calais immigration team have found a group of Vietnamese immigrants stowing away in a truck. One of the team says, in a very sympathetic tone "Oh no, there's a couple of little females in here".  In my head she's found a box of kittens, or a nest of baby mice.  But she hasn't, and her tone, which is meant to sound kind, I find disturbing.  What she has found, cowering behind the cargo, is two young women.  She treats them kindly and carefully, given that she has to arrest them as illegal immigrants, but she has already done the worst thing she can to them by referring to them in a way that reduces their humanity and infantilises them.

It something that seems to happen a lot in law enforcement reality shows; police officers talk about IC3 males, or young white females.  They may be criminals but they are actually Asian men and white girls.  It seems to be a result of creating jargon to categorise and encode people for reports, but there's a danger that, as people stop talking about men and women and start using these oddly biological terms, we reduce human beings to animals not only in our paperwork but in our minds, and once people become less than human in our minds it makes it easier to treat them as less than human.