Rapture rescue…

Interesting stuff.

Naomi Klein contrasts different responses to global crisis, and specifically uses this term- ‘Rapture rescue’-  a kind of global economic secular event through which some get saved, and others get left behind.

We see this perhaps in the response to terrorism- there is in the West a longing for some kind of second coming to sweep aside the evil and leave us safe in our holy escape pods. Some used to believe that war would achieve this.

Or perhaps capitalism itself could be seen in this way- there are those who believe– who live well and play to the rules of the holy market, and the unfaithful. Some of these can be rescued- but only by becoming like us.

Then there is climate change, which Klein talks about a lot here. Those who still deny the science seem bound up in a defensive wall of self interest. The crisis is external doubt, and the possibility of a threat to a way of life.

The ‘Rapture’ image hit me hard, as it makes a lot of sense- religion is both the engine of our underlying assumptions about the world, and also the means through which we justify and apply a kind of sacred redemption to our actions and lifestyles.

This being true, how might our faith still be an engine, but rather an engine for grace– for us, our neighbours and our environment? How might this  lead us to work for change NOW, not to wall ourselves away from the unfaithful, the undeserving, the already-lost?

Well I liked the simplicity of what Klein said, here-

“If we want the transformation, we can’t wait for it to happen in some massive jolt, we have to plan for it and model it…”

“Only a crisis, actual or perceived produces real change, and when that change occurs this depends on the ideas that are lying around. That is our function, to keep ideas alive until the politically impossible becomes politically inevitable.”

We Christians are carriers of perhaps the best ideas- contained within the life of Jesus. Our function is to keep these stories alive, and to try to live them out in our context.

Well our context is changing…

The (dis)functionality of teams…

I have been spending some longer periods of time with one of the teams I manage- within a larger Community Mental Health Team that I used to work within.

In many ways it is a step back into familiar chaos which is strangely comforting.

Today for instance, we had staff shortages, no receptionist, a person in the building who was extremely (and noisily) unwell and had to be detained under the Mental Health Act. Also we had the usual variety of tensions and frictions between individual team members.

And it is the later that was most noticeable to me in my return. People in mundane group situations are always at their most ‘person-like’. Working closely with others in situations of stress will always make it impossible to hide who you are, at your best and worst.

All the usual characters were there today- the detached, the enthusiast, the out of control control freak, the idiosyncrat, the confidenceless, the overconfident, the people pleaser and the back stabber.

And the mess of me.

Some team situations distil from all this some fine spirit. They are generative and energising- for most if not all. To be part of teams like this is a lifetime high, even if only in retrospect. We are more as a result of being part of them.

Other teams are toxic by their nature. Whole books are written about how this comes about- leadership, followership, vision, poor skill/personality fit. Teams like this need to be taken outside and shot.

The surprise however is that both of these kinds of teams are rare. What is more common are teams like the one I spent time with today- teams full of faults and fracture lines- with some people working full on, others hardly working at all. With all sorts of disatisfactions, hurts and greivances just below the surface.

But still, these teams are productive.

In this case, the product is not easy to define- as it concerns the support of other people in distress, and despite our (dis)functionality, people are received, held, and then sent on their way on the way to some kind of healing for the most part.

Today I feel both hopeful and defeated by this. Hopeful because the humanity in the middle of us has this huge beating heart.

Defeated because the best of us is still beyond.

I think it comes down still to the difference between the efficient performance of a task and- love.

The difference between animal and divine.

The difference between a corporate mission statement, and the Beatitudes…

 

Pregnant…

 

A lovely word.

A female word that sometimes excludes men, but more often contains and holds us all.

A word containing the unknown, the still-to-be, the potential to succeed…

And the potential to utterly fail.

It is a word that is synonymous with Advent. Waiting in hope, uncertainty, and perhaps even fear.

Waiting for something to change, for something to be born into the mess of us all.

I read this today– another one of Cheryl Lawrie’s lovely poems.

Perhaps our mistake is thinking
that love will always come
in the shape we have known it:

a happy ending
a new beginning
a christ-child.

In this pregnant pause
while the earth holds its breath
waiting for what
it does not know,
let us have the faith
that even we,
with all our wise
and cynical
knowing,
would not imagine
the shape that love
will take

and instead just
have the faith
that it will come.

Christmas cheeeeeeeese…

Like many of us, I have been rather hammering the ‘reclaim Christmas from the capitalists’ theme of late. But you really can go too far.

Brace yourselves…

Bless.

The thing is, she seems a really nice person- someone who always looks after everyone all around her. Salt of the earth. Would you tell her? Go on- be honest. You too would tell her how lovely the song is wouldn’t you?

There is a serious edge to these things though. Church and culture. Culture and church. I have heard sentiments like this (even expressed like this!) for years in and around churches.

But it has usually been all talk and no trousers. All tinsel and no gristle.

The edge…

This is a poem about death, written in around a simple story I heard recently. I am also reminded of this.

“The ocean goes on for ever”

Said the ripple

Just learning how to be a wave

Learning how to catch the reach of the wind

How to rise like an athlete at the drop of a flag

And to skim over the skin of the sea

Fringed by the speed of movement

~

But the ringing horizon was a

Crystalled panning lens

That one day found the edge

Of a jagged shadow

Against which wave after wave

After wave after wave

Was broken

~

“What is this terrible thing” cried the ripple

“That would turn us white then end us?”

~

So an older wave shouldered close

And offered some compassion;

“Have no fear now little one

Let’s roar and make commotion

For what you are is more than wave

You are made from mighty ocean.”


After the wind, snow…

The weather is playing with us.

This morning heavy snow flurries cancelled my trip to Bute.

But by this afternoon, everywhere was calm and still.

I took this from our bedroom window earlier-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the poor light I was too lazy to set up a tripod. Here is another one, taken from William’s bedroom…

Sheltering from the storm…

The power is back on!

I remember as a child in the 1970’s we had a series of power cuts during times of industrial action. Those hours spent by candlelight, eating sausages and beans cooked on a camping stove are lovely memories- and I still remember the disappointment I felt when the lights came back on. The time of dancing shadows was over, and the florescent uniformity was back again.

I felt a little flicker of this disappointment today. But these days, the lack of power is no benign thing- particularly in Argyll.

The storms today cut off Cowal entirely- the Rest and Be Thankful pass was blocked, and the ferries all stopped running. Trees are down everywhere and caravans and high sided vehicles tipped over.

In fact, I called in to the Police Station earlier and was told that an articulated lorry had been blown on its side, only later to be blown back onto it’s wheels! I confess to feeling skeptical, but the story was told to me in all seriousness.

More seriously there have been a spate of accidents- a policeman is said to be amongst those injured.

And when the power is out, the frailer members of our society are very vulnerable.

We have not escaped damage to property either- William’s shed took a battering, a fence is wobbling and water is coming in to our house through the skylight.

But for a while, we sat in the lounge before a raging fire and played games by the light of candles. Everyone was happy, somehow buoyed by the drama and comraderie of it all.

And then the lights came on again.

And we went our separate ways- to our individual screens and electronic cocoons.

A small band of survivors no longer.

Another storm…

Storming

 

Ripping and rending

Bending then breaking

Scuttling and guttering

Litterbugs whirling

Hold fast to the railing-

Here comes the storm

 

Slates start their scissoring

Lifting and sliding

Chimney pots clinging

Open mouth howling

Insurance claims pending-

Here comes the storm

 

Foaming and crashing

Spray plume tongue lashing

White horses raging

Anchors are scraping

The shore all white teething-

Here comes the storm

 

Sirens nee-nawing

Some cars aquaplaning

Power lines sparking

Snaking and falling

Gadgets are dying-

Here comes the storm