Stories

Right through Advent, Christians are revisiting the Holy Scripture, listening again to the words of the prophets in the Old Testament who foretold of some new initiative God would take, listening again to the humble existence of Mary, listening again to the beautiful story of incarnation- the word of God became flesh in Jesus.

Interestingly, the story of Jesus’ birth is only told largely in one of the gospels, Matthew tells us about the Wise men, but Mark and John don’t mention it at all! If Luke hadn’t recorded it, we may never have known what the first Christmas looked like, who was there. Imagine a world without nativity plays!

The richness and security of our cultures across the world depend so much on storytelling - it’s the miracle of dialogue and understanding.

We have our own stories, I’m sure most of our lives have had twists and turns, surprises, ups and downs. They would undoubtedly involve changes in situation and in ourselves. Ideas and opinions will have altered, aspirations may have developed, certainties possibly challenged. As well as the stories of our selves, there are the important stories we would tell - I wonder, if we were to write a gospel now, what it would it be like.

What good news do we have to share? What would be the message we would want to challenge our readers with? How would we want future generations to remember this period of time and all that is happening within it?

The hope that the gospel I will write will speak of a people of love, a global connected community who stood up to injustice, activist and peace makers, the brave outspoken and quiet healers. I’ll write at length of the church as it awoke called to action, stirred by the insults to the Kingdom they saw all around them. I will put in writing the way that freedom came when normal, ordinary people realised that not only did they have the power to be world changers, they had not choice to do otherwise. That’s good news. And it’s half written in our history already as movements of justice and love gain pace.

Stories are being written all around the world. We have our own gospels to write. What will be in yours?

Imagine

Imagine that your town is being occupied by a military power which then denies you access to your natural resources, taking them and draining them in ways that are irreparably damaging to the environment. They take the water from your land then sell it back to you, even denying it completely sometimes. Imagine living as a second class citizen, you can see the electricity cables stretching from pylon to pylon across the desert but bypassing your village entirely. Imagine that the ways your family have made a living for generations have been taken away, because your land has been taken, and your transportation and movements restricted. Imagine paying taxes on every drop of rain that falls in your water tank –the tank you built because you couldn’t afford to buy water from the authorities. Even that rain, isn’t yours.

This might be a stretch of the imagination. But I’m sorry to say, the reality is even more unbelievable.

In the Jordan Valley I met people so truly poor – that is, with no options or choices left – they pay for transport each day to the settlement of the illegal settlers nearby, the settlement that is taking their water and selling it back to them, taking their ancestral land and doing all they can to drive them out. They then stand in a line up while the man in charge picks who will work that day. They pay this man for his service, if they’re lucky they’ll be picked to work. Imagine. Swallowing all your pride to do that, because you have no choice.

Poverty is not just about economics. It’s being forced to just about survive, to be at the mercy of those who care so little for you, to have no way out.

It seems unbelievable, but I saw it. Realities like these are only challenged when people know. And now you know.

Silent Night

I met some incredible people in Israel and the West Bank, but one person I will never forget is Jonny. He is a Palestinian Christian from Bethlehem and I met him in the foyer of his family’s hotel. He was weeping. He was weeping over the hundreds of olive trees that had been destroyed the day before in a village near Ramallah. The olive trees – the Palestinian pride and joy, livelihood and passion. Ancient, beautiful life giving trees, ripped from the ground. Jonny wept over them, and for the destruction of his precious West Bank that had gone before, and that he knew would continue.

Jonny is 74, and he has skin cancer. His family have saved meticulously to ensure he gets the treatment he needs and can’t get under his insurance as because the hospital in Bethlehem hasn’t the resources, he needs to go to Jerusalem. He has to pay and apply for a permit to pass through the checkpoint to Jerusalem, he doesn’t always get the permit, and when he does, he isn’t always allowed through. When he stays overnight in hospital his family can scarcely afford the permit to visit him, and when they can they cannot guarantee their purchased permission will be accepted.

Early this year in the cold of spring and at the peak of his illness, Jonny travelled once again to hospital. At the checkpoint he was ordered to strip and be searched in the open air in front of the queue and the young soldiers. Jonny has every reason to weep. He is regularly humiliated, his hometown is an open prison and he knows his story won’t make the news.

Jonny has every reason to weep. And so do I. This is my world too. And these things are happening under my nose and in my lifetime and in my chapter of history. A time for action and a time for talking. There is a time to listen and a time to stand for truth. There is a time for shouting, and a time for weeping.

Risky Church

It’s a tricky thing, working with churches sometimes. I work alongside and in partnership with churches and faith groups from across the spectrum of culture and tradition. I love that there are as many things in common as there are differences – people always fill from the back row, there will always be one person in charge of 27 rotas and committees and usually dashing round after the service to catch up with people and rope in a few others. There’s one common element that I find that concerns me though. We don’t like to be too offensive. We as churches often find ourselves catering for the lowest common denominator so that we risk as little as possible. We chose our battles carefully, with a look over our shoulder to make sure we’re not alone and tentatively we tiptoe our way out into the world to gently try and change it.

And yet the history we have, the mandate we have, the example we have in Jesus and his disciples ... the church should be leading the way in standing against injustice, and seeking the Kingdom and being the most relevant institution there is! Yet, try and engage some churches in being a little reckless for the sake of the oppressed, and stick their head out of the bunker on behalf of truth, and tip over the tables of temple in the search for justice... Hmmm! People in our communities are looking for purpose, for a cause which carries a little more weight than who wins X-Factor, for a way to contribute to a better world for our children and grandchildren.

We have dozens of opportunities to do it, to be relevant, to be people who change the world! We did it and ended the legality of the slave trade, we did it and ended apartheid in South Africa. Now we need to once again open our eyes to the harsh realities this world faces and get vocal. Think of the rewards for our world and our church – now let’s take the risks.

Peace

This week I’m sharing some of my thoughts and stories from the Holy Land, the kind of stories you might not usually hear. For example, Hatim.

Hatim had always been aware of things not quite being right. He was outspoken from an early age, challenging those who sought to oppress and rule the proud people of his precious home, Bethlehem. In the early 1990s Hatim spent 8 years in prison for being a member of the Palestinian Liberation Army and for those 8 years he was nothing more than a number. On his release, he chose, for the sake of his children, to work face to face with Israelis, trying to change the situation for both sides. Even as violent conflict broke out again in Israel and the West Bank after the millennium, Hatim was advocating non-violent resistance and dialogue between all parties.

Hatim is a member of Combatants for Peace, an organisation with both Israeli and Palestinian soldiers who have turned away from combat. Those who went to prison or were certified mentally unstable for refusing to be drafted on moral grounds and who now feel they have to share the stories of what they have experienced so that the world will see the other side of the story.

In 2007 Israeli border police opened fire unprovoked on Hatim’s family as they walked past a check point. His 6 year old daughter was shot in the head and killed. In the face of tragedy and grief Hatim chose path he had chosen before. The path of dialogue, and non-violence and standing shoulder to shoulder with the other side. He chose peace. Hatim is one of many who have paid a high price in this conflict and yet, for him, revenge is not an option.

For both Israelis and Palestinians in Combatants for Peace their journey has involved great courage and a massive change of attitude, heart and mind. They have bravely chosen to look beyond what they were told, to see all people as human beings regardless of religion or ethnicity. Keeping the peace is relatively easy, but making peace is much more difficult. In a world of injustice it really is the only choice. And didn’t Jesus say something about the peacemakers being the blessed…?