St George and St Gabriel, Stockport

It must be hard to be shut into a small, bare space.  Deprived of your liberty.  During the Covid pandemic we all had some experience of what that might be like.

Sorting through papers recently, I came across the programme for the Journey Into Light  exhibition held at St. George’s back in December 2019.  A display of art works created by people in prison.  An exploration and an expression of identity, by people forced to be with themselves in a confined space.

At the service to mark the completion of the exhibition’s journey, we sang these words from Jan Berry’s hymn:  “When life’s chances lead to prison and the key turns in the lock……..People lose their sense of meaning, known by number, not by name.  But the common spark of living lies beneath the guilt and blame.”  

Shaka Senghor was convicted of murder at the age of nineteen.  He served nineteen years in prison, including a total of seven years in solitary confinement.  At the beginning of his sentence Shaka was angry and violent.  But after six years something shifted.  Locked in his five feet by seven feet cell, he began meditating, reading, writing a journal and what would eventually become his bestselling memoir, Writing My Wrongs.

His son had written him a letter:  “Dear Dad.  My mother told me you was in prison for murder.  Dear Dad, don’t murder anymore.  Jesus watches what you do.  Pray to him and he’ll forgive your sins.”

“That was the moment that I decided that I would never go back to the darkness and that I had to find my light.  And that I owed it to him to find my light.”

Chris Dawson

The archetypal refugees for Christians are, of course, the Holy Family: “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there till I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him.”  So says the angel to Joseph.  Like most refugees today, they fled to a neighbouring country. 

One third of all refugees come from Syria and they flee next door to Turkey, Jordan and Lebanon.  According to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, Turkey hosts more refugees than anyone else in the world (2.8million) and Lebanon (hosting 1 million) comes after Pakistan (1.6 million).  Jordan is in the top ten.  In proportion to its population, the UK, one of the top six wealthiest economies, comes fourteenth in Europe  for asylum applications.

But refugees are “out there” for most of us – unless you live on the south coast, I guess.   If you know someone, the perspective tends to change.  You realise that they are people like us. People with hopes and fears, needing safety, and willing to come to a new country and contribute. (Check who developed the anti Covid vaccine in Germany.)

They are not “swarms” and “invasions”.  Though we do label some groups as such.  Most of those crossing the Channel are people fleeing war-torn or oppressive countries, where no safe and formal routes, such as refugee visas, exist for making an asylum claim.  They are labelled “illegal”.  In contrast, more than 200,000 visas have been issued to those escaping the war in Ukraine.  We make choices.

“I am part and parcel of the whole and cannot find God apart from the rest of humanity.”  Mahatma Gandhi.

Chris Dawson

I wonder what Jesus did for entertainment.  We know that he conversed with his disciples, that he visited friends’ houses and ate with them.  We also know that he needed a break sometimes and would to go into the wilderness for prayer, reflection and quiet time. 

At Tatton Park there is a replica Medieval hall.  It’s one big living space.  In the middle is a flagstone for the fire and, above it, a hole open to the sky to let out the smoke.  Everyone in the household would have lived, eaten and slept in this hall. They lived cheek by jowl, in community.

In Medieval times holidays were of saints days and holy days – lots of them.  Days that gave them time off work, time to eat, drink and celebrate – after they had been to church, no doubt.  On some of those days they held fairs and festivities, enjoying themselves together. Disputes and rivalries no doubt existed, but so did friendships and support.

It would be easy to sentimentalise an existence that was for many, in the words of the philosopher Thomas Hobbes, “nasty, brutish and short”, but one of their strengths was that people belonged and communicated.  They were connected.

In terms of affluence, health and life-expectancy we are miles ahead of our Medieval forbears.  We don’t need a fair for entertainment.  We don’t need to go into the wilderness to get away from it all.  We can be entertained instantly at any time of the day or night at the press of a button. And each of us can be entertained in any way that we choose, without involving anyone else…… But at a price.

Chris Dawson

I think it was in Progressive Voices, the magazine of the Progressive Christianity Network, that I read an article in which the writer was expressing concern about taking bits of the Bible literally.  He recounted how a bishop had said to him, “It’s poetry, dear boy”!

I was reminded of this during our recent Baptism and Confirmation service.  Candidates are asked to, “ Fight valiantly…. against sin, the world and the devil” and later to “persevere in resisting evil”.  More metaphor and poetry?

St. Augustine developed the doctrine of “original sin”, illustrated Biblically by the story of Adam and Eve.  But, how about about the idea of “original goodness” – “created in God’s image”? A goodness that is always there, but which can become distorted by the way we are treated and by a desire to survive, which makes us prone to sin.

‘Sin’ encompasses thoughts, words and actions devoid of love and compassion and thereby damaging to ourselves and other people.  Or, as Father Laurence, my favourite Benedictine monk says, “Sin is not the breaking of rules, but the fracturing of relationships”. 

And where does the Devil come into this?  I find it helpful to see the Devil as a metaphor for a distorted and unrestrained ego. The ego is that part of us that encourages us to become a separate being.  A necessary process enabling us to grow, explore and make choices.

Ideally we come to have a balance between feeling both separate, connected and loved.  If we have a bruised and damaged ego and thereby feel separate, disconnected and unloved, we may be tempted to show the world that we are somebody and just how powerful we are.  Not everyone says, “Get thee behind me Satan” and that can have disastrous consequences.

Chris Dawson                             

The novelist Aldous Huxley wrote, somewhat apologetically,“It’s a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one’s life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than ‘try to be a little kinder.’” 

Jeremy Clarkson’s article about Meghan Markle, evoked from him a kind of apology – after the largest protest to the Independent Press Standards Organisation since its inception in 2014.  He said that he had “put his foot in it”.  A  phrase we usually use when we have unintentionally made a faux pas.  I guess he would have thought a true apology to be a sign of weakness. The editor of the Sun must also originally have thought it was worth publishing it.

Kindness clearly isn’t seen to sell newspapers.  Being unkind, sensational and vitriolic, it seems, does.  But what encourages someone to write a piece for publication in which they say that they hate someone “on a cellular level”, or they’d like to see them “parade naked through the streets of every town in Britain while crowds chant, ‘Shame’”?

We know that “hurt people hurt”.  We know it from our own experience.  When we feel hurt, our instinct can be to hurt back.  A much bullied Jeremy Clarkson was deeply unhappy at his boarding school.  Ultimately he was expelled for “drinking, smoking and generally making a nuisance of himself.” He seems to have continued to act out that persona.   He’s made a lot of money, but on the whole that approach doesn’t make for good relationships.

I’d rather go with the Dalai Lama: “Be kind whenever possible.  It is always possible.”

Chris Dawson

At the start of a new year we have often set ourselves challenges.  We’ve decided that there are  things we can do better, changes to be made and new things to achieve.  We are full of good intentions.

About now we may be telling ourselves what a failure we are, because we have already failed to meet the challenge.  We may not even have started.  I read somewhere that some 80% of those who sign up to a gym in January haven’t got there by February!

We could review, amend our goals and start again.  We could even decide that it wasn’t a realistic idea in the first place.  However, in our disappointment we often translate this “failure” into, “I am a failure”.  Repeated often enough this affirmation can come to be how we see ourselves and the basis on which we act and relate to others.

The Japanese art of Kintsugi is the art of taking the pieces of a broken pot and carefully putting them back together again.  To do so the artist uses a mixture of resin and powdered gold.  The restored pot is deemed to be worth more than the original unbroken pot.

In Matthew’s Gospel, when Jesus heals a paralysed man, he says to him, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.”  To a woman who has been suffering from a haemorrhage for twelve years he says, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.”  “Take heart “ could be good words to start our own positive affirmation.

Chris Dawson

Abba Poeman said about Abba Pior that every single day he made a fresh beginning.  That’s one Desert Father speaking of another back in the 5^th century.  Abba Pior was  able to leave behind all yesterday’s concerns, anxieties, failures and successes and start again.  Easy to say, but not so easy to practise. 

To help us re-balance and re-set each day, to help us make a fresh beginning, requires  a rhythm and a routine.   “Oh my goodness,” you say.  “Not a chance.  Life isn’t like that.” True the Desert Mothers and Fathers lived in a less complicated world and led simpler lives.  But simple does not mean easy. 

For them this was clearly a priority.  They had turned their backs on a materialistic existence. The Desert Fathers and Mothers were there to deepen their spiritual lives, to be in touch with God through meditation, prayer and the reciting of scripture.  That gave them their rhythm and their routine.

At the start of a new year, it seems fitting for me to ask myself what my spiritual priorities are and to ask myself if, in some way I can make a fresh beginning every single day.  Maybe just changing or adding one thing.  It’s an aspiration and I won’t always “get it right”.  Just one thing will do to set me on my way.  For, as the 14^th c mystic Meister Eckhart said of prayer, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, that will be enough.”

Chris Dawson

“How will you your Christmas keep?”  This is the first line of a poem by Eleanor Farjeon, author of the hymn ‘Morning Has Broken’. It crept into my head when I was reflecting on the pressures and the pleasures that Christmas brings.

Appeals from the charities Shelter and Crisis reminded me how for a whole host of people Christmas amplifies their difficulties and their dislocation from other people.  And it’s not just those who are homeless. 

The Christmas ideal is one of joyful connection and happy families, but what if you don’t have family, or relationships are strained.  Who do you share Christmas lunch with?

Christmas Day highlights our need as human beings to belong, to be part of a group, a member of a community. 

Every year there is at least one Christmas card depicting a village Christmas scene.  You know the one.  It has snowed.  The lights in the church are glowing warm, so are the lights in the houses and the old fashioned shop close by.  Choir boys – always in red – are out singing in the snow. The people in warm coats, scarves and hats are heading towards the church.

This  idealised scene is all about community, belonging and togetherness.  A great message.  But we don’t need to live in an idealised community to express that.  We can give that message every time we encounter another human being.  One moment of true attention says ,“You belong.”

Chris Dawson

When did you first hear of Black Friday?  A ploy dreamed up by retail executives in the US to sell more goods, has rapidly spread over here.  What about Giving Tuesday? Where did that come from?  Again, it was a movement started in America, this time to encourage philanthropy.  It too has spread across the world. 

At least the Giving Tuesday movement is run and promoted by a social enterprise company.  I say ‘at least’ because I do feel pressured by constant email reminders from charities to ‘give today’, as if this is the only day in the year for giving. 

But is this what giving is about?  I admit that I, like other human beings can be self-centred and do need a reminder sometimes of others’ needs.  To be reminded too that charitable organisations, including our own church, need resources to carry out their work.

This season of Christmas is certainly a time when we focus on giving and receiving.  As we write our Christmas cards and wrap presents, we are giving and we are connecting – and in some cases reconnecting – with family and friends.  Through charitable giving we can show our connectedness and our empathy and compassion for others beyond our immediate circle.

St Paul famously said that it is more blessed to give than receive.  Indeed, some of us find it hard to receive.  However, I think they are two sides of the same golden coin.  I think that we need to be open to both.  The title to this piece, taken from a poem by Alberto Rios, the inaugural state poet of Arizona, sums that up perfectly for me.

Chris Dawson

It’s understandable that we celebrate the coming of the light at Christmas.  In the build up to the celebration of the Nativity we light an Advent candle each Sunday and already tree lights and decorations are twinkling in windows and public places.

But without the dark there is no light.  The darker it is, the more  we can see the stars. Both the light and the darkness are a stimulus to spiritual growth.  As the Buddhist saying goes, “No mud, no lotus.”

Talking of mud, what could be a darker place than under the earth.  Yet what is happening at this very minute?  Life among the insects, fungi and plants is stirring.  Some will continue their journey in the dark, others will make their way to the surface. 

The dark earth is a place of fertility and richness and a place of gestation and growth.  It’s also a place where things are hidden and waiting for us to find.  “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” (Matthew 13:44)

The light and the dark are complementary partners in stimulating our spiritual growth.  For the mystic, John of the Cross, a mystic who emphasised the way of darkness, even in the darkness “bright flows the river of God”.  The darkness was not for him frightening or demonic, but an intimate, safe darkness.  Like the intimate darkness of a room where two friends are sharing time together.

Chris Dawson

the light and the dark