Peace, Love, and Thanks

Yesterday I returned to First Presbyterian Church in Iowa City for the first time since the summer of 2014. I greeted some of the people who had supported through prayers, encouragement, and donations, but it would have been impossible to thank every individual for their contributions. I try to appreciate all of the gifts that people have given me, and I am quickly overwhelmed with gratitude.

This will be my last blog post, so I would like to tell you about my last week in Belfast, which proved to be one of the most exciting and affirming weeks of my YAV year. On Sunday, the 26^th of July, I was asked to deliver the sermon on my last day at Whitehouse. It was also the commissioning service for the Rwanda team, before they departed for their Skills Exchange Trip, an exciting step in their ongoing partnership with a church community in Kigali, Rwanda. The theme of my sermon was distance and difference. I was preparing to fly back across the Atlantic, and the relationships I had with people in Belfast would be stretched by distance. The Rwanda team was preparing to have an encounter with people who have a very different culture and history. At these times it is so important to remember that God was holding all of creation closely and lovingly from the very first moment. From that perspective, division disappears, and we can see people the way God sees them, in spite of difference and distance.

Speaking of disappearing divisions, I spent the rest of that week with a Peace Players program called the Belfast Interface Camps. In each area of the city, (NSEW) young people came together for sports camps that included instruction in Soccer, Gaelic Football, and Rugby. Every day also included a community relations seminar from the Peace Players staff. The days flew by, and the craic was legendary (that means it was fun). On Friday, over 100 kids gathered on a soggy pitch for a friendly competition to determine which side of the city was best at working together to win games. My team from South Belfast made me proud, not only because they won most of their games. They also exemplified a positive attitude. Between matches, as the rain dripped on our already shivering bodies, I gathered them for a peptalk. I said to them, “You’re all heroes just for showing up to play today. And you’re superheroes for playing hard, being good teammates, and never once complaining about being wet or cold.” The kid just to my right said, “What would we complain about?” He was having a great time.

The ministry that happens in Whitehouse Presbyterian and Peace Players is tremendously valuable to communities in Belfast. I have no doubts about why PCUSA chose these organizations as mission partners in Belfast. I have faith that their work will continue, every day contributing to God’s kingdom on Earth. It is far too early to give an estimate of what my YAV year has meant to me. I suspect the lessons will continue to emerge as my life continues. Old stories will take on new meanings, and those relationships will fill my heart again and again.

Thanks to all those who supported my ministry; if you ask I would be happy to tell you what your prayers and encouragement have meant to me.

Peace and Love,

Will

Whitehouse Makes New Friends

Great Britain is becoming a place of tremendous ethnic and religious diversity. The same cannot be said of Northern Ireland. A huge majority would identify as Christian. And even many who are not affiliated with any faith community might identify as Protestant or Catholic. The binary of Catholic/Protestant has defined the social structure of Northern Ireland for a long time; but the binary is slowly breaking down. It is possible now to encounter a Sikh, Muslim, Hindu, or Buddhist in Belfast; though it is not likely where I live in North Belfast. Northern Ireland faces the challenge of including these newcomers in a society that has been dominated by two identities for hundreds of years.

Some folks from Whitehouse Presbyterian decided this summer to learn a bit more about their non-Christian neighbors. We arranged a visit to the Belfast Islamic Centre and the Jewish Synagogue. I was eager to join my friends at Whitehouse in an exploration of such vast and important religious traditions, but I was also curious to hear about the experience of being a religious minority in Northern Ireland.

A couple weeks after our visits to the Islamic Centre and Synagogue, we gathered at the church to debrief; I was asked to facilitate the conversation. I happily accepted, and found the subsequent discussion to be very thoughtful and enjoyable. It was so enjoyable that I would like to share some of the questions and conclusions that emerged during our discussion, for the benefit of my U.S. readers and any friends at Whitehouse who didn’t have a chance to attend.

Thoughts on our visit to the Belfast Islamic Centre:

Our host spoke of Islam as a way of life, and had a surprisingly inclusive view of Christians. He recognized that we share many narratives and beliefs about God. He seemed pleased to have the opportunity to connect with Christian communities in Belfast and called us brothers and sisters.

The greatest point of divergence between Islam and Christianity is around the character of Jesus. Muslims do not recognize Jesus as the Son of God or the Messiah, and the majority of Muslims do not believe that Jesus died before his spirit ascended. Islam recognizes Jesus as a prophet but not an agent of salvation.

Islam demands tremendous discipline, particularly in the area of prayer (salat). The idea is that by adhering to the prescriptions of the Koran, a person can learn to focus on God and God’s will for their lives. In this way Islam is not so different from Christian monasticism.

Some of us left the Islamic Centre with questions about how the faith of our speaker is related to the radical Islam that appears so prominently in the news. Our host made mention of some verses that seem to give license to the violence, but he also alluded to Koranic verses which articulate clearly that there should be no compulsion in religion. But we recognized that it may be unfair to ask our Muslim host to give account of actions committed by those whose faith has very little to do with his own. After all, in a society that endured decades of violence between Catholic and Protestant communities, how often is the average church-goer asked to give account of the actions of paramilitary soldiers?

As Ramadan comes to a close, we have to appreciate that Muslims who live this far north might be fasting for up to 17 hours during the day. That is a long, long time.

 

Thoughts on our visit to the Jewish Synagogue

The Belfast Synagogue is affiliated with Orthodox Judaism, and while the Muslim community is very new in Northern Ireland, the Jewish community is old and dwindling. We were surprised to learn that the Synagogue may be too small to survive within the span of 8 or 9 years.

Members of Whitehouse Presbyterian learned about Judaism and the Jewish community in Belfast from our host, Neville.
Photo Credit: Liz Hughes

 

Our speaker had a lot to say about the history of the Jewish community in Belfast. Many of the folks from Whitehouse were able to recall their Jewish classmates and business colleagues. It seems that many of those families have moved elsewhere, or are no longer active at the synagogue.

The Belfast Synagogue is affiliated with Orthodox Judaism, and our host recognized that women rabbis are not recognized in that tradition. It seemed to make him a bit uncomfortable to talk about it, but he also explained that the seating is segregated by gender to avoid distractions for the men. This attitude different from our own, but is not so different from other perspectives within Christianity.

Our host let us examine the prayer books and the Torah scrolls, which are large and impressively ornate. Orthodox Judaism has a great emphasis on liturgy and also a focus on the letter of the law; by following the law rigidly you can have a stronger relationship with God. Although our speaker recognized that essentially Judaism is about being a good person.

 

In conclusion, I found our visits to be very illuminating, and I hope that Whitehouse can continue to cultivate relationships with other faith communities. Thanks for reading!

 

Belonging with Jesus, and with Our Dogs

Whitehouse Presbyterian had a communion service yesterday evening to welcome five new member to the congregation, and I prepared a sermon, which you are welcome to read.
Mark 3: 31-35 and Psalm 130 were the texts for the service (copied below)

 

We talk often enough about belonging to a church. Whitehouse Presbyterian is an excellent example. We belong also to bowling clubs and book clubs. We belong to our families. But the most important place we can belong is with Jesus. And so in our gospel story, with his biological family standing patiently in the doorway, Jesus issues his invitation to any who would follow him. Come be a part of my family, come and find belonging, with me. This invitation in no way diminishes the bond that Jesus has with his DNA-related mother and little brothers. I hope not. I have an adopted brother, and when we gave him a place to belong, in a family, as a Massey, I do not feel that it diminished or devalued my connection with the rest of my biological family. In fact the opposite, I think Jesus’ invitation acknowledges that part of being human, is a profound need to belong, to be loved as a sister, brother, parent, child. That place of belonging is an invaluable gift, which God promises to provide.

Psychologists have identified this “need to belong” as a universal component of human life. I read an overview of a study that explores this part of our nature, and two things stood out:

1. "People readily form relationships with others without being paid or forced to do so, and do so even under adverse circumstances. For example, infants and children will form attachments to others even though they have little or no knowledge of their social world and are incapable of calculating benefits or costs to these relationships."

I think that this eagerness to be in relationship, before it was a human behavior, was a divine behavior. Exemplified by the trinity, but also felt deeply in our hearts.

2. "When we feel close to others, our thoughts change such that a cognitive “merging” effect occurs; people begin to include aspects of their relationship partner in their own self-concept. The boundaries between individual partners break down in relationships, and people think of their own fate as being intertwined with the fate of others."

When we are in a relationship or a community, we are no longer just ourselves. We cannot help but think of our family and friends as a part of who we are, and God feels the same way about us.

But before I talk about God, let me talk about dogs. Human behaviors and intentions are very complex to talk about and understand. Dogs, not as much. Looking again in the field of psychology, we know that pets can help us find belonging. People with pets are less likely to feel lonely, or rejected, and are more likely to feel socially fulfilled, happy, and healthy. When we are with our pets we know that we are loved, that their love is freely given, and we begin to identify with them. They are ours, and we are theirs.

I had a roommate whose mother trained therapy animals. Dogs, bunnies, ferrets, therapy animals can have demonstrably transformative effects for people young and old with anxiety, depression, autism, and countless other health challenges. Dr. Aubrey Fine, from California, offers a story of a 5-year-old girl who refused to speak to anybody outside her family, and recoiled in fright from strangers. She was afraid to build new friendship, in contrast to the innate urges we have heard about. It was a dog named Puppy that provided the bridge that set the girl and her doctor on the road to recovery. As she was petting the dog, the doctor gave it a signal to move away, and then she explained to the young girl that all she had to do to make the dog come back was to say “Puppy, come here.” So she spoke to the dog, out loud, in front of a stranger, and the dog quickly returned. This incident provided a foundation for treatment; the girl felt the affection of the dog, the warmth of the new relationship, and it gave her the courage to speak, and be open to new friendships.

All of this demonstrates something we already know well. Loneliness is an unnatural-feeling and painful experience for human beings. We need to belong, and to feel loved. Our pets, in all of their simplicity, provide this by simply loving. And the love of God is deeper still, and more transformative. So now we must consider, what does it mean to find belonging with Jesus?

Irish Poet and scholar John O’Donohue, in his book on Celtic Spirituality (Anam Cara), describes the transformative power of love:

“When we love and allow our selves to be loved, we begin more and more to inhabit the kingdom of the eternal. Fear changes into courage, emptiness becomes plenitude and distance becomes intimacy.”

Courage, Plenitude, intimacy, these are the characteristics of life with Christ. We trust in the promise of God’s transformative love, and our souls smile to hear Jesus call us his brothers and sisters.

The psalmist also has great hope in this promise, writing “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!” we can guess perhaps, out of the depths of loneliness, regret, sinfulness. But, as the writer says, with the Lord there is forgiveness. With the Lord there is steadfast love and the power to redeem. God transports us from the swirling chaos to a place of belonging, which we desperately long for.

Belonging with Christ transforms our hearts with the knowledge that we are loved, but also directs us to follow the will of God. Being a disciple of Jesus is not the price of belonging. We do not purchase God’s love by acting rightly, just as we do not purchase the love of our mothers or our dogs. We care for them and do ask they ask of us because they are part of who we are, and that relationship is part of our identity. I will remind you of the research I mentioned earlier, which tells us that “People readily form relationships with others without being paid or forced to do so.” And “people begin to include aspects of their relationship partner in their own self-concept. The boundaries between individual partners break down in relationships”

We do not talk enough about the tender relationship that Jesus shared with his disciples. First he called them into fellowship with him, and not because they had acted righteously. As far as I can tell they represent a random cross-section of first-century Palestinian Jews. But Jesus wanted to share his life with people, so he brought them close, and made his home with them. He loved his disciples like family and asked them to support him in his ministry. He washed their feet, he told them the truth, and confided in them as he approached the cross. By then, the disciples felt they had no identity apart from Jesus, and the thought of living without him was terrifying to them. And so Jesus promised that the Spirit would enter them and be with them forever, and so thereafter they tirelessly did God’s work with courage, with plenitude, and with intimacy, the hallmarks of a life that belongs with God.

And so we have faith that God loves and forgives readily, with no payment from us. But we recognize that when Jesus calls us into belonging with him, it is not just about enjoying the emotional fulfillment of God’s love. We are with Jesus in joy and eternal life, but we are also with Jesus in his defense of poor and marginalised people; we are with Jesus in his challenge to racist, classist, patriarchal, and imperial power dynamics, we are with Jesus in his boundless forgiveness, in his sacrifice, and we are with Jesus in his affection for the least of these. We belong, with Jesus in God’s kingdom here and now.

 

 

 

Mark 3: 31-35

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my  brother and sister and mother.”

Psalm 130  

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord,

Lord, hear my voice

Let your ears be attentive

To the voice of my supplications

 If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

Lord, who could stand?

But there is forgiveness with you,

So that you may be revered.

 I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

And in his word I hope;

My soul waits for the Lord,

More than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.

 O Israel, hope in the Lord!

For with the Lord there is steadfast love,

And with him is great power to redeem.

It is he who will redeem Israel from all its iniquities.

Cited:

Anam Cara: Spiritual Wisdom from the Celtic World by John O'Donohue

 

 

Church in the Streets

In my life as a Street Pastor, there may be nothing more gratifying than the silent puzzling looks of teenagers when I tell them that I am not getting paid to wander around parks, shops, and housing estates, talking to anyone who happens to be out. Perhaps we have approached them looking for conversation, or they have approached us looking for the sweets we carry in our official Street Pastors knapsacks, but the line of questioning is almost invariable for those who have never encountered a Street Pastor.

What’s a Street Pastor? What do you do? Do you get paid? Then why do you do it? Are you like the police?

Last weekend I was out with a Street Pastors team in a large housing estate in Newtownabbey, having a conversation that followed almost exactly this template. We explained that we represent the churches in the area, and that we are there to care, listen, and help (the Street Pastors tagline). These particular kids were very young, not quite teenagers. As we spoke to them they sat shivering on a park bench, striving absurdly to defeat their boredom. Elsewhere in the park some older teens were enjoying a bonfire in the woods. We joked around with the kids, learned their names, and calmly counselled them not to push each other off the back of the bench. We urged them to have a good night and left the park.

As we walked along, I noticed a warning issued in spray-paint on the low wall marking the edge of the park: “PSNI stay out.” I would not say that I understand the dynamic between the Police Service of Northern Ireland and the loyalist-Protestant communities of Northern Ireland, but evidently a police officer is persona non grata in that particular park. It is safe to assume that some loyalist paramilitary had made claims on that territory.

But there were no restrictions on Street Pastors. In fact, Street Pastors have generally very little appreciation for boundaries and divisions. We do not identify as Protestants or Catholics, always defying the probing questions of the people we meet. We identify as Christian, and with no particular agenda we go anywhere and talk to anyone. We collaborate with PSNI but we work independently. Accordingly we don’t call them in every time we encounter underage drinking or smell marijuana. Street Pastors listen but don’t judge, offer help when appropriate, and to the best of our ability communicate the love of God to everyone they encounter.

We moved on from the park to a large open space in the midst of the rows of houses. In the center was a wide circular structure built mostly of tires, shipping palettes, and old furniture. On the evening of July 11, the residents of this overwhelmingly Protestant housing estate will set a light to the structure in celebration of their heritage, as they have for many years. I have of course never witnessed this celebration, but I know that attitudes towards the twelfth are very diverse. From enthusiasm to discomfort to terror, all I can say for sure is that the merriment is sometimes, sadly, mingled with sectarian aggression.

A bonfire site for the Twelfth of July. The bonfire is constructed months in advance.

 

So with interest I approached the tower, and the youths who were charged with guarding it until the men took over at midnight. From what I have heard, residents in some places post a 24-hour sentinel at their bonfire site, to avoid premature ignition; for the young guards it is a tremendous honor to be tasked with the protection of the bonfire. They occupied themselves with a broken TV and a small fire they put together in a shopping cart. As I spoke to them, and recalled what I had seen on the wall earlier, it occurred to me that Street Pastors has got it right. This is where the church belongs, on the interface. We move between the police and the paramilitaries. Between Protestants and Catholics. Between old residents and new citizens and immigrants. Even between the Church institution and the folks who feel disenchanted with or rejected by religion. The Church is never a spectator in conflict, but stands in its midst, inviting everyone into relationship, but also unafraid to be an advocate for those who are treated unjustly. On one occasion I literally stood between a police vehicle and a group of teens who felt threatened by the police presence. I will have only a few more outings as a Street Pastor, but this valuable ministry continues, stepping boldly across boundaries, the Church in the streets. Ultimately, we hope, the boundaries will be erased altogether.

Forgiveness Challenge: Completed

A while ago actually. I hope you can forgive me for the delay. Consistent, perhaps, with my expectations, the challenge did not offer much spiritual transformation for me personally, but I suppose I didn’t sign up because I had a lot of unforgiven memories to deal with. I signed up more for academic and spiritual curiosity. It was a way to equip myself for future ministry and for future forgiving. In that sense the challenge was successful.

Desmond and Mpho Tutu laid out a four-step scheme for forgiveness that can be applied to forgiveness of others and forgiveness of self.

1.       Telling the Story: The forgiveness process begins, in theory at least, by acknowledging the facts of an event that resulted in hurt.

2.       Naming the hurt: the story is incomplete if we cannot recognize what feelings emerged as a result of somebody’s actions. Disappointment, anger, loss, betrayal, whatever the damage, it is important to understand where the pain comes from.

3.       Granting forgiveness: The key to this step is a recognition of shared humanity. We are all human, which means we are relational creatures. We seek people with whom to share love and experience life. But it also means that we occasionally act out of our brokenness. When we are hurt by the actions of another, we must remember that the other should not be reduced to that one action, just as we should not be reduced to that one moment of pain. Forgiveness means recognizing the humanity of an offender, remembering that they also have pain in their past, and our own past mistakes are rooted in the same brokenness.

4.       Renewing or releasing the relationship: Forgiveness paves the way for a renewed relationship. While acknowledging the hurt, we can still love the other. Their sinfulness never entirely obscures their humanity, and ideally we can reestablish bonds of affection with somebody who has hurt us. Relationship and community are essential parts of the world that God created, and we should not abandon them thoughtlessly. Desmond and Mpho recognize, however, that releasing the relationship must be an option to follow forgiveness in cases of abuse.

This structure is consistent (or at least claims to be) with psychological research and the experiences of victims. The course emphasizes that forgiveness is a healthy thing for the victim. People often believe that refusing to forgive is a way of punishing an offender, but in fact the victim continues to suffer from the bitterness that needs to be dealt with.

Looking beyond the individual, forgiveness is an essential precondition for the peaceable world imagined in the gospels. The kingdom of God, revealed in the person of Jesus, is a world reconciled to itself and to God. In the Kingdom, we treat people as people. We forgive the fruits of our brokenness, and glorify God in our renewed relationships.

Desmond Tutu’s forgiveness project makes no theological claims, inviting people from all traditions to learn and experience forgiveness. But I can say with confidence that if you ask the Archbishop, he would say that the Kingdom of God is the central vision of his project.

The violent history of Northern Ireland has produced many moving case studies for the study of forgiveness. The forgiveness project has recorded hundreds of stories of forgiveness from participants, and there is a way to filter by country. A couple weeks ago I spent a good chunk of my afternoon reading the remarkable stories of forgiveness that have emerged from this tiny country. I have included the link below. I encourage you to read through a couple and see how forgiveness has the potential to transform individuals and communities in Northern Ireland. In every place for that matter. It is worth learning and worth teaching to our youth, pupils, and children.

http://theforgivenessproject.com/country/northern-ireland/

Easter Stories

On Easter Sunday I sat down for a dinner of fish, potatoes, creamed spinach, and pavlova with one of the very gracious families from Whitehouse Presbyterian. I enjoyed my meal, accepted a chocolate Easter egg to take home, and helped them celebrate a birthday, before returning home. Then I finally climbed into bed, setting an alarm for the start of the Cubs’ opener at Wrigley Field.

And now I have sat down to reflect on my experience of Holy Week in Belfast, a week of diverse excitements and down-to-the-wire preparations. Whitehouse gave me something to think about for every day of the week, and on a couple of occasions I had the chance to provoke some thoughts, hopefully.

Palm Sunday: Jesus has entered Jerusalem with glory and Hosannas and striking humility. The Whitehouse youth made preparations for leading the Thursday evening worship service. Then we played games.

Monday: The theme of the evening service was “Perfumes,” in reference to the woman, named in at least one gospel as Mary, who anointed Jesus with expensive perfume. When challenged, Jesus affirmed her actions, suggesting that it is appropriate to anoint the body of a man that is soon to die. Several people from Whitehouse Presbyterian Women spoke about the perfumes they use, with names like “Poison” and “eternity.” I don’t wear perfume, and at the start I found it hard to relate to their reflections. But it occurred to me that I have always had difficulty relating to the story. Judas’ objection is somewhat convincing. Should we not banish luxuries from our lives in a world with such desperate poverty? Hearing the women on Monday night challenged me think of perfumes as a way to affirm the value of self, and as a way to honor others. It becomes more meaningful and valuable than just a nice smell.

Tuesday: The Rwanda team presented on the theme of “Pigeons.” Jesus cleared the temple, including the pigeons, and lamented that his Father’s house had become a den of thieves and robbers. The team explored dramatically the disciples’ responses to Jesus’ alarming actions. Uncertain and fearful, some of them wonder if perhaps Jesus has gone too far this time, a reminder to all of us that following Jesus might mean getting in trouble, and it always means thinking critically about the status quo and the structures that dominate our lives.

Wednesday: I was not raised to have any special appreciation for Billy Graham, but he seems to have earned tremendous respect among British Christians. He produced a short film exploring the meaning of the cross that we screened in Whitehouse and, I think, many other churches did the same. I must say it was well done. Even more compelling than the words of Billy Graham were the testimonies of two young Americans who spoke to the power of the cross to transform a heart. They spoke movingly about liberation, breaking the bonds of sin. They demonstrated that death is always part of the Easter story. Something must die before we can rise again, forgiven and free.

Thursday: The Whitehouse youth group elected to host a Passover dinner for the congregation and so we gave it our very best shot. It didn’t all taste great, but thankfully some of it isn’t supposed to. We explicated each component of the meal, hoping to illumine the story of Jesus’ Passover dinner with his disciples. Appropriately, a lot of the symbolism of the Passover has to do with acknowledging sin in our lives, breaking the bonds that constrain us, and committing ourselves to being better people. I also had an opportunity to portray the disciple John, in conversation with Simon Peter. With prayers and jokes, we reflected on the drama of the past week, wondered at Jesus’ frightening predictions, his reckless actions in the temple, and his tender moments with disciples.

Friday: In the morning I accompanied several folks from Whitehouse to a church up the road, where we met up with other local congregations for the annual community prayer walk. We passed through Protestant, Catholic, and commercial areas, offering prayers for peace and healing at each stop. We appeared at about 9 churches overall, from my memory. In between I had a delightful conversation about sweets with a few of the youth. In the evening was the Tenebrae service, a service of shadows. As we watched a film depiction of the account in the gospel of John, the lights grew dimmer in the church as Jesus approached the cross. Hope seemed to grow dim as well, as we watched God’s blameless son dying because it is a crime to speak the truth, to challenge oppression, to seek peace. And if that is the way of the world then what hope is there?

Saturday: I do not know when the tradition started, but on Easter Saturday the Whitehouse youth stumble through the front doors of the church and unload sleeping bags, pillows, extra clothes and salty snacks. The WhY-F lock-in. It was a great time. We ordered Chinese; we had balloons wars, we attempted gluten-free cupcakes and failed spectacularly. My favorite part was the karaoke, which didn’t get underway until about 1 a.m. At 6:30 a.m. the youth joined the rest of the congregation for the sunrise (Son-rise?) service at hazelbank park. Miraculously, 16 teenagers were awake and singing their praises, celebrating the real miracle of Easter. They were rewarded with breakfast back at the church. We all slept an hour or two before bravely rising for the 11 a.m. service, more singing and more Easter blessings. Joy mingled with exhaustion, and then they all returned home to meditate on the resurrection mystery in their dreams.

 

School is Confusing

I’ve been puzzling recently over one of the most substantial cultural differences between Northern Ireland and the U.S. An experience from a couple weeks ago serves as an illustrative anecdote. At one of my programs a leader asked the children to recite the Lord’s Prayer together. After stumbling through the 2000-year-old words, a boy raised his hand and complained, “I don’t even know the Lord’s Prayer!” The leader, somewhat surprised, responded, “What? Didn’t you learn it in school?”

A Northern Irish reader will find nothing unusual in that question, but an American reader will likely understand my bewilderment. Public schools in the U.S. are for learning about biology and reading books. But a lesson about the Lord ’s Prayer would be a manifest violation of the separation between church and state. I’ve read news stories about children being suspended from school for accidentally saying “Amen” at the end of a minute of silence. That takes the issue to an extreme, but it’s true that I would never expect to be taught any prayers or bible lessons in school. That’s why I went to Sunday school. Older children could perhaps have a class on historical and global religions, but that is very distinct from the Christian education programs at churches.

In Northern Ireland, Christian education for young people seems to be a collaboration between churches and schools. Local pastors often come as guests to schools to speak at assembly. School boards would often include a pastor from the community. As Easter approaches, Whitehouse Presbyterian is preparing to host groups of schoolchildren for an interactive tour of the Stations of the Cross. At assembly the children may watch their principal stand up and say that Easter demonstrates how much God loves each of them. High school children learn and discuss Christian ethics in the classroom.

I’ve interrogated students and teachers, hoping to understand the logic of the Northern Ireland structure for religious education. Primarily I wonder about the growing non-Christian population in Northern Ireland. Are those children alienated from their school experience when Christian values and beliefs are normative? The people with whom I have spoken assure me that the classes are tolerant and inclusive, presenting Christian beliefs without being forceful. Curricula for older students includes global religions. Some kids have even expressed frustration that they are learning about non-Christian religion when they still have so many questions about their own tradition, a valid thought although it confused me.

The differences are occasionally confusing, but also instructive. I recognize that the separation of church and state education in the U.S. is not complete. Our cultural value system always informs the way we educate our children. In Oklahoma, a wild debate rages about how the AP curriculum presents American history. Some conservatives maintain that the history we teach children should emphasize the positives, like our innovative democracy and our scientific imagination. Similarly, it seems to me that “American” values, as taught in schools, are implicitly “American Christian” values. The confusion of Christian devotion and patriotism is unquestionably widespread.

I suppose my point is, a truly objective education system is a fantasy. Schools and churches educate according to their system of values. In Northern Ireland, schools are unafraid to present Christian narratives to children. In the U.S. schools teach without any explicit mention of religion. It’s not my purpose to say which is better; that’s not even a helpful question. But I do think it is helpful to recognize the system of values that underscores our beliefs about religion and education. How else can we be better teachers, pastors, and youth leaders?

Those of you who work in education may have more coherent thoughts, which I would love to hear!

Come back soon for a brief account of my holiday with the Masseys.