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.

A Lenten Challenge

 





 

I'm giving up chocolate.

Just kidding, I would never do that.

 

I'm doing something a little more active. A little while ago Desmond Tutu, global champion of peace and reconciliation, launched a 30-day forgiveness challenge alongside his daughter Mpho. Years ago I saw Archbishop Tutu speak at James Madison University in Virginia. I have always had tremendous respect for what he has done with his life. I also recognize that his words and actions in the midst of apartheid and its aftermath have enormous relevance for everyone working towards reconciliation in Northern Ireland. That includes me, for at least a few more months.

 

So I'm going to take the forgiveness challenge. It includes stories, journaling, and reflection, at least that is my impression. It is only day 1. I expect to learn about the theory of forgiveness and why it is so important as a Christian and as a human. I expect to be challenged to be a better forgiver. And I expect to be more thoughtful about seeking forgiveness.

A preview of the challenge:

 





It's a 30 day challenge, and Lent is a little longer than that, so maybe I will take weekends off. Either way I am committed to trying the challenge. Lent is a time to focus on following Jesus as he makes his way toward the cross, and that path includes Jesus' radical forgiveness.
A link in case you would like to try the challenge yourself: https://www.forgivenesschallenge.com/
Expect an update sometime before Easter.



"Concerns?" Really?

Whitehouse Presbyterian is still recovering from last week’s drama surrounding the election for moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland. My supervisor/friend/role model, the Rev. Liz Hughes was nominated and lost for the second year in a row. PCI has never elected a female moderator. The good people of Whitehouse sympathized but also sighed their relief that they would not have to surrender Liz for the year. That could have been the end of it, but the next day several prominent Presbyterian clergy expressed their "concerns" about having women in any ordained leadership position in the church. The sound bites and clamorous radio discussions demonstrated clearly the divisions, identity politics, and belligerency within the church.

I will make my comments personal rather than theological. I have heard that about 6% of teaching elders in PCI are women. Imagine being brave enough to respond to a call to pastoral ministry, to endure years of training and coursework when half of your instructors sincerely believe that you don’t measure up to the boys. Then, after decades of working with congregations, building relationships, serving the community, and performing pastoral duties faithfully, a colleague speaks up to say that women should not be ordained? For women ministers it must feel that their identity and history is under attack. I imagine it might really hurt.

I think also of the young women I work with at Whitehouse. They are all thoughtful and friendly, and I can imagine that some may by discerning a call to ministry in a few years.  I would hate for them to be discouraged by a man’s thoughtless comments. When the church fails to affirm the gifts of a young person, it should be no surprise when his or her engagement with the church community diminishes. The events of last week challenged me to recommit to making church a place where all young people can cultivate their mental and spiritual gifts without discrimination or judgment.



A positive welcome at the doors of Whitehouse Presbyterian

New Year, New Blog Post

We are 15 days into 2015, and I really hope those 15 days have been splendid for you. The weeks around Christmas and New Year’s were a substantial departure from my regular schedule. Four Christmas dinners, my first ever Boxing Day, a new city, abundant chocolates, and some heating difficulties in our house (now resolved). It was busy and exciting, so I thought I would highlight just a couple experiences from my holidays in Northern Ireland.

17 December- Before I enjoyed a Christmas dinner with the Peace Players staff, we facilitated an event called “Diversity through Sport Day,” presented by the Antrim Borough Council. Several schools from Antrim, a town about 20 miles from Belfast, sent students to participate in the program. We split the kids into integrated (Catholic and Protestant) teams; and I chaperoned one of these teams through a rotation of five activities. The first session was a community relations activity led by the Peace Players staff, which demonstrated how valuable it is to get to know people who are different from you, rather than relying on stereotypes. The other four activities were coaching sessions in various sports. The first sport the kids learned was Gaelic Football. Gaelic is a popular sport in the Irish Catholic community, and although I know very little about it, I think it is pretty fun to watch. The second sport was hockey (field hockey for American readers), which is primarily a Protestant sport. The last time I watched field hockey was at my prep school in Virginia. Soccer was next, and every kid there had more skills than me. And lastly, we had a basketball session. Passing, dribbling, shooting. When the kids had left we grabbed a basketball and played a casual and refreshing pick-up game.

24 December- The youth of Whitehouse Presbyterian presented a Christmas drama that was 50% swashbuckling and 50% heartwarming-true-meaning-of-Christmas story. Husband and wife welcome a rugged, khaki-clad band of treasure hunters into their Bed & Breakfast as Christmas approaches. The treasure hunters have decoded ancient manuscripts, following the clues to a treasure buried somewhere in Belfast. The husband B&B owner becomes so immersed in the adventure story that he neglects a young mother and her kids in desperate need of a place to stay. Has he forgotten what Christmas is really about? Thankfully the wife B&B owner has compassion, and finds beds for the despairing family. When the treasure hunters depart breathlessly, hot on the trail of the treasure, they leave behind one manuscript. The misguided husband reads the manuscript and his eyes are opened to an astonishing truth. The REAL treasure promised by the ancient texts (Matthew and Isaiah mostly) is in fact a baby, Jesus! He has a Grinch-like change of heart, and then everyone sings Silent Night.

An excerpt:

Mrs. Boyle: what’s all this? (picks up a scroll)

Davison: Please do not TOUCH that. It is an ancient manuscript, these are copies but the originals are more than 2500 years old. (Grabs it out of her hand). Thank you.

Mrs. Boyle: Well what does it all say?

Professor: Well, hidden in the texts is a code that points the way to an enormous treasure.

Rhodes: This treasure is everything. I’ve invested all I have in the search, and once I find it I’ll never have to worry about anything, ever again.

Professor: This, uh, particular manuscript reads,

“A voices cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

Jonny: What does it mean?
Davison: It’s a map, over mountains and valleys, a guide to the “glory of the Lord,” the immense treasure that is a reward for the one wise enough to follow the clues. The professor here has worked through hundreds of texts, and now we know everything, except where to begin digging.

Mrs. Boyle: (picking up another scroll) Ooh this one looks reeeaaallly old!

Writing credit shared between me and Jonny Newell, with plenty of input from our brilliant youth.

 30 December- I departed for Glasgow! All five Belfast YAVs set off for a Scottish adventure. We toured the Hunterian museum and art collection, admired Glasgow Cathedral, and walked around in the rain. A friend of mine welcomed us into her home with her family, and served us haggis, vegetarian haggis, Irn Bru, Doritos, and other authentic items. And we got to see Scotland on New Year’s Eve, which is so important to them that they have a special name for it. Hogmanay. I don’t know what it means, but I know that Robert Burns wrote “Auld Lang Syne;” and Scots love Robbie Burns.

I took in this view from the Glasgow Necropolis, which I explored
alone because the other YAVs are boring.

 

I'm hoping to be back with another post soon. Less summary, more introspection. Bye!

 

Crystal Palace, of Course

The other day I stood in our hallway, chatting with our plumber as he awaited a response from his supervisor. In no time at all we were talking about sports. He discussed the impression given from television that all Americans play football, and that every home has a basketball hoop above the garage. I talked about my experience of playing basketball and baseball as a child. It was a pleasant conversation, and it occurred to me how often sports becomes a tool for me to connect with other people.

The first day I spent with Whitehouse Primary School, the boys in the P5 class asked me which football (soccer) team I support. Imagine their surprise at my response: “Crystal Palace of course!” Word must have spread quickly that the American who works with the Primary 5 class is a Crystal Palace supporter. The next few weeks, children from other classes whom I had never met would approach to ask which football club I support, as if to confirm the incredible rumors. Primarily it is the boys in the class who are interested in soccer, so every Friday I can raise the topic with them, to preview the weekend matches, debrief the previous week, and offer some friendly trash talk. The week that Crystal Palace beat Liverpool 3-1 was particularly exciting. Every single boy in the class, and a couple of the girls spend their recess playing football. They ask me to referee, which really means that I must deescalate disputes and keep track of who gets to be goalie next.

          For many young men and boys in Northern Ireland, sport is an important component of their identity. Most would be proud to tell you what football club they support, but many also invest their time in playing football, rugby, boxing, etc. The Boys’ Brigade I work with plays football every week, with matches on Saturdays. Like my plumber they are also intrigued by sports culture in the United States. In summary, my sporting literacy has proved important in building relationships with the boys I work with in Northern Ireland.

              Sports can also be a divisive issue. Sectarian tensions have a way of sneaking into many corners of life in Northern Ireland. Children in Catholic schools would have very few opportunities to play rugby, and Protestant schoolchildren know almost nothing about Gaelic football or hurling. Football could, or perhaps should, serve as common ground, but it seems that most clubs have been staked out by one side or the other. If you support the Irish national team you would not support the Northern Irish team. A friend told me recently that Chelsea is a Protestant team, although I doubt that is a self-designation. I have heard also about the famous Celtic vs. Rangers rivalry, which makes Glasgow a battleground for Catholic and Protestant hostilities. I can’t claim to know everything about the division in sports culture, but it seems you can make a lot of judgments about somebody based on what type of lunchbox they have.

Sports are also divided along gender lines, which should be a familiar-sounding problem for readers in the U.S. The boys at Whitehouse Primary will not refuse a girl who wants to play with them, which is great. But that girl will not have many opportunities to touch the ball. The boys are not at fault of course. As in the States, there seem to be cultural constructions that determine who can play and who can’t, a set of values that they all learn as they grow up.

              Great opportunities for learning also emerge from sports. They are not just tools of division and outlets for hostility. The schoolyard context provides countless teachable moments. Inclusion, forgiveness, and fairness would be common threads. Peace Players exploits the opportunities in team sports by asking questions about identity, stereotypes, and peer influence. Sports have provided me with excellent opportunities to connect with young people, and perhaps at some point in the future football, rugby, and Gaelic football will be used less as a language of division, and more as a way to connect and have fun with people who are different.  

             

They Write Songs About This Island

Ireland has an exceptionally rich cultural history, and I think I am beginning to understand why.

 

Indiana Jones allusions abound at Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge.

 

It is an astonishingly beautiful island. My theory goes like this:



View from an ancient hill fort in County Donegal, Ireland
(Photo Credit: Suzanne Huffine)

When the weather is nice, everyone wanders around outside, exploring green fields, ancient ruins, dramatic cliffs that look out over the sea. 



 

 



Panoramic view of the Causeway Coast

The potential for creative inspiration is evident. The spectacular Causeway Coast gave rise to a whole mythology surrounding a bridge-building giant named Finn.





Ancient hill fort in County Donegal, Ireland.
 (Handsomeness Credit: Keith Thompson)



Dunluce Castle, Northern Ireland

 

 

While visiting Dunluce Castle (pictured above left), my imagination could not resist filling the castle with songs, banquets, royal drama, and maybe even a troll. 

St. Columb's Cathedral, Derry, Northern Ireland

 

 

 

But if it was sunny every day we would have a problem. With all the strolling, exploring, and imagining, nobody would bother to sit and pen a poem or a song.

 

 

 

 

And that's where the rain comes in. It's true that it makes the grass green and occasionally treats us with a rainbow. But it also allows the people of Ireland to release the beauty impressed on their imagination onto a page, or in a song. Or perhaps I just need a reason to not hate the rain.

 

 

 

An ancient church and cemetery near. Rostrevor, Northern Ireland
(Photo Credit: Suzanne Huffine)

 



"I Love Him Too"



Forgiveness is a learned behavior. It can be practiced, improved, and performed. This challenging claim serves as a thesis to a film called "A Step Too Far? A Contemplation on Forgiveness” that the Irish Churches Peace Project presented over four weeks in October, accompanied by lectures and discussion. The film used the case of the 2006 shooting in an Amish schoolhouse to frame its exploration of forgiveness. The objective of the Northern Irish filmmakers was to take the lessons learned from the stories and ethos of the Amish people, and offer them as a resource for the ongoing reconciliation project in Northern Ireland. Though the filmmakers intentionally organized their presentation for a Northern Irish audience, the possibility of reconciliation is a question of global import. If you have any doubt about that, a quick glance at todays headlines offers confirmation. Communities in Ukraine, Chicago, Missouri, Mexico, Syria, Burkina Faso, Israel and Palestine, and on Capitol Hill in D.C. ache for reconciliation, not to mention the need at the level of tribe, family, friendship, and individual.

Over four Wednesdays our conversations ran the gamut on questions of forgiveness: does forgiveness depend on the offense? Or on an apology? Is forgiveness demanded unconditionally by Christian ethics? Does it oppose the need for justice? Who is meant to benefit from forgiveness? All these questions emerged from the film’s surprising claims about Amish society. Within days of the massacre in the Amish schoolhouse, representatives of the Amish community connected with the family of the killer to articulate their forgiveness, and offer their friendship. The film offers a handful of similar stories, and submits that this remarkable forgiveness is not just a theological imperative for the Amish, but a natural response after years of socialization. This challenges a popular assumption that forgiveness must be in defiance of a natural urge for vengeance. The need for revenge is a cultural observation, not an objective reality. Forgiveness can come just as naturally, if we intentionally cultivate that behavior. Woah. For all of the countless times I have asked a child to say, “I’m sorry,” have I even once asked a child to say, “I forgive you?” I think it’s time to start.

 

 



A mural depicting the events of Bloody Sunday in 1972 in Derry-Londonderry, Northern Ireland.



 

Forgiving is an exercise in humanizing the other; it refuses to reduce an aggressor to the crime that they committed. As Paul said, and as I cited in a previous post, “from now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view” (2 Corinthians 5:16). My mentors and friends here have identified Northern Ireland as a “divided society.” That label hardly makes it unique, but it does suggest that forgiveness could have tremendous social benefit by allowing people to look beyond the categories of us and them to build personal relationships, departing from the legacy of violence. I would guess that is why the Irish Churches Peace Project invested in the film.

Suddenly I find the themes from those Wednesday evenings resonating in many other arenas. The radical suggestion that forgiveness is as much a decision as a feeling has implications for politics, parenting, and criminal justice. Speaking as an American, I can say with confidence that I grew up in a society obsessed with vengeance. Watch Sons of Anarchy on Netflix if you disagree. But I am encouraged by the story of Grady Bankhead, an Alabama inmate in the midst of a life sentence who shared with a film crew his response to the murder of his daughter. Speaking of the murderer he said, “He’s a human being… and I love him too; it’s a choice.”

 

 

 

Passenger

If I’m being really honest I miss driving my car. I identify with Iggy Pop, always a passenger. I often accept rides home from the folks at Whitehouse Presbyterian, but for many journeys I rely on Belfast’s bus network. Using the city busses requires a tremendous amount of organization; at least that’s how it feels to me. I have to check the timetables before I leave my house, departing on the 7-minute walk to the bus stop. And I can’t take just any bus, the 2a doesn’t get me close to the church. If I’m going to Whitehouse primary school, I must be even more selective. I must remember to top up my card occasionally, AND remember to give my receipts to Doug, but only for my work card. It’s all very stressful; you’re allowed to feel sorry for me.

Yes, it's a bad photo taken from a bus. But it was a double-decker bus.

Setting aside the drama for a moment, riding the bus allows me to feel a little closer to the community of Belfast. I know little about rugby and less about Downton Abbey, but I can share the experience of bus travel with the people of Northern Ireland. When those goons were blasting house music on the second level at 8 a.m., I got to exchange frustrated looks with other passengers. When English tourists needed guidance, I had an answer for them. It is also a great joy to strike up conversations with friendly strangers. I’ve met a young man who aspires to live overseas and questions the existence of God. He said he was Protestant but really he just cares about being a human. I learned a great deal about Northern Irish politics from a man who I believe was without a home. He was intelligent and kind. And just Friday I met Sting’s greatest fan, who suspects that Obama is Illuminati.

In general my bus encounters are very positive. When they are not positive they are at least memorable. In my own car I have a little world to myself, and I miss that. It can be controlled very carefully: the music, the temperature, the speed. In contrast, the world of bus travel is a powerful affirmation of chaos theory, but the people of Belfast are mostly generous and kind. And it is a delight to share that world with them. 

What is Peace Players? (Sweet to the beat!)

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays I hop in a car with a couple blokes and drive on the left all the way to Ballymena, a half-hour away from my house in North Belfast. We are coaches for Peace Players, an organization that uses basketball as a tool to bring together children and youth from divided communities. My basketball skills exemplify mediocrity, but thankfully the 8 and 9-year-olds that we coach have never seen a ball that they weren’t allowed to kick. We only worry about teaching the basics, and that is probably all I could teach anyway.

              The 90-minute sessions that we coach are called “Twinnings;” two classes from two schools in Ballymena are paired together. From those 50 or so kids we put together four mixed teams. The schools in Northern Ireland are almost completely segregated along Catholic/Protestant lines. My impression is that less than 10% of schools are consciously integrated. A Protestant child could conceivably learn to read, learn algebra, then calculus, read A Tale of Two Cities, and never have a substantial conversation with a Catholic child until their gap year in Spain. The absence of violence is not a synonym for peace. As much as we want the kids in Ballymena to learn basketball skills, the real value of a Twinning is the opportunity to develop friendships with children from a different community. Every session includes a “Community Relations” segment that is meant to get the kids talking about diversity, prejudice, and other non-basketball concerns.

              My comrades and I lead three sessions each week for 8 weeks. 3 sessions = 6 schools = about 160 children by my reckoning. There are several other Twinning sessions happening in Belfast right now, not to mention the Under-14 girls team, the Champions 4 Peace, and several special events. Altogether the number of kids that encounter Peace Players in a year is in the thousands. I think it is thrilling to watch children cross cultural boundaries by learning to play together, and to imagine that someday they may learn to live together, as the Peace Players slogan suggests.

"All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation." 2 Corinthians 5:18

 Please explore the Peace Players wesite:

http://www.peaceplayersintl.org/our-programs/northern-ireland

You will notice that the Peace Players main office is in DC, but it serves communities in Northern Ireland, South Africa, Cyprus, and Israel/ Palestine.  

Welcome to Whitehouse, Will!

One of the most joyful lessons of my first few weeks in Belfast is in the recognition that there are goofy people everywhere. At least four days a week I spend some time at Whitehouse Presbyterian Church in Newtownabbey, a borough just north of Belfast. Without minimalizing the differences between life in PC(USA) and PCI (Presbyterian Church in Ireland), the people of Whitehouse are as silly and full of laughter as any church community I have been a part of. Some people are huggers; some fire off questions faster than I can answer them; and some just won't let me say no to a seventh cookie and another cup of tea. Invariably I offer a little giggle, and they apologize because they're probably scaring me, or because I'm probably like "these people are so weird," and I assure them that I am very much enjoying their company. In fact, while the accents and even the jokes are a bit different, the silliness is what makes me feel most welcome as I begin my work in partnership with Whitehouse.
Coupled with their silliness, the people at Whitehouse are commendable for their authentic concern for people both local and remote. Most of my involvement at Whitehouse is with their youth, through their Youth Fellowship, Girls' Brigade, and Boys' Brigade programs. It is evident that the congregation is committed to cultivating confidence and faithfulness in their young people. The church supports the Street Pastors of Northern Ireland, the Irish Churches Peace Project, Tearfund, and collaborates extensively with nearby Catholic churches (which seems to be somewhat scandalous). My point is this: the YAV program made no mistake in choosing Whitehouse Presbyterian as a partner in ministry.
It is worth mentioning that in 2002 a sectarian arson attack left the Whitehouse community without a building for three years. The legacy of this fire has become central, it seems, to the identity of the congregation. They are proud that their community and ministries endured the trauma, and they are even grateful because the attack became an opportunity to seek reconciliation with Catholic communities in Newtownabbey, who helped sponsor the reconstruction of Whitehouse. I have yet to worship with any other church in Northern Ireland, but I am convinced that Whitehouse is a special place.

Here is a link to Whitehouse's website:
http://www.whpci.org/index.html
Sometime soon I will post a blog about my other placement, PeacePlayers Northern Ireland. Here is a link to their site:
http://www.peaceplayersintl.org/our-programs/northern-Ireland

"So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!"
2 Corinthians 5:17