Rohr on outsiders…

Richard Rohr

My friend Maggy sent me a quote today by the man speaking above- Richard Rohr.

It hit the spot for several reasons. Firstly, Rohr usually has something interesting to say, and his take on the role of the outsider as a source of renewal to the church feels like something important.

Important too as another friend had recieved one of those chain e-mails, and sent it on to me to ask what I thought. This is what it said;

Last month I attended my annual training session for maintaining my security clearance in the prison service.

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> There was a presentation by three speakers from the Roman Catholic, Protestant and Muslim faiths, who explained their beliefs.

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> I was particularly interested in what the Islamic Imam had to say about the basics of Islam, complete with video.

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> After the presentations, question time. I directed my question to the Imam and asked: ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I understand that most Imams and clerics of Islam have declared a Holy War against the infidels of the world and, that by killing an infidel, (which is a command to all Muslims) they are assured of a place in heaven. If that’s the case, can you give me the definition of an infidel?’

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> There was no disagreement with my statement and, without hesitation he replied, ‘Non-believers!’

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> I responded, ‘So let me make sure I have this straight. All followers of Allah have been commanded to kill everyone who is not a follower of Allah, so they can have a place in heaven. Is that correct?’

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> The expression on his face changed from one of authority to that of a little boy who had just been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.’

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> He sheepishly replied, ‘Yes.’

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> I then stated, ‘Well, I have a real problem trying to imagine Pope Benedict commanding all Catholics to kill Muslims, or the Archbishop of Canterbury ordering all Protestants to do the same in order to guarantee them a place in heaven!’

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> The Imam was speechless!

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> I continued, ‘I also have a problem with being your ‘friend’ when you and your brother clerics are telling your followers to kill me! Let me ask you a question. Would you rather have your Allah, who tells you to kill me in order for you to go to heaven, or my Jesus who tells me to love you because He will take me to heaven and He wants you to be there with me?’

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> You could have heard a pin drop as the Imam remained speechless.

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> Needless to say, the organizers of the Diversification seminar were not happy with this way of exposing the truth about the Muslims’ beliefs.

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> Within twenty years, i.e. 2031, there will be enough Muslim voters in the UK to elect a government of their choice, complete with Sharia law.

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> Everyone in the WORLD should be required to read this, but with the current political paralysis, tolerant justice system, liberal media and P.C. madness, there is no way this will be widely publicised.

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> Please pass this on to all your e-mail contacts.

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I replied to my friend,  but rather than share with you my own ramblings, here is what Richard Rohr had to say;

The Sin of Exclusion  

Those at the edge of any system and those excluded from any system ironically and invariably hold the secret for the conversion and wholeness of that very group. They always hold the feared, rejected, and denied parts of the group’s soul. You see, therefore, why the church was meant to be that group that constantly went to the edges, to the “least of the brothers and sisters,” and even to the enemy.

Jesus was not just a theological genius, but he was also a psychological and sociological genius. When any church defines itself by exclusion of anybody, it is always wrong. It is avoiding its only vocation, which is to be the Christ. The only groups that Jesus seriously critiques are those who include themselves and exclude others from the always-given grace of God.

Only as the People of God receive the stranger, the sinner, and the immigrant, those who don’t play our game our way, do we discover not only the hidden, feared, and hated parts of our own souls, but the fullness of Jesus himself. We need them for our own conversion.The Church is always converted when the outcasts are re-invited back into the temple. You see this in Jesus’ commonly sending marginalized people that he has healed back into the village, back to their family, or back to the temple to “show themselves to the priests.” It is not just for their re-inclusion and acceptance, but actually for the group itself to be renewed.

Adapted from Radical Grace: Daily Meditations,

Poverty UK, revisited…

About-2-million-pensioner-001

 

image from The Guardian

There have been a series of stories in the press over the past few months, setting an agenda that goes something like this;

Austerity is necessary, we all need to pull in our belts for the sake of the nation

Poverty is avoidable if you work hard. Only those who are lazy live in poverty

We can not afford to continue to pay benefits to scroungers

It is the working ‘squeezed middle’ we need to feel sorry for- those people whose taxes are being used to buy easy lifestyles to people on benefits

This blame the poor attitude is pervasive and seems to play remarkably well- giving us someone to blame, easy scapegoats for the economic woes that assail the nation. Never mind the facts.

We already know that the rich are getting richer.

And that a third of the workforce have held on to their jobs through accepting pay cuts, in a manner unprecedented.

Today, we hear that an extra one million people are now regarded as living in poverty in the UK, including 300,000 children- this from the governments own stats.

One strange stat however is that most of these new children who live in poverty come from working households. All those benefits cuts to council tax benefit, housing benefit, etc, squeezed wages. This from the Guardian says it all;

Oxfam’s Katherine Trebeck said: “It is unacceptable that in the seventh richest country on the planet, we’ve seen the number of people living in poverty increase by nearly a million. With cuts to public services and social security in the pipeline, the number of people living on absolute low incomes will only increase over the years.”

Alison Garnham, chief executive of Child Poverty Action Group, said: “Despite all the talk about ‘scroungers’ and generations of families never working, today’s poverty figures expose comprehensively the myth that the main cause of poverty is people choosing not to work. The truth is that for a growing number of families, work isn’t working. The promise that work would be a route out of poverty has not been kept as wages stagnate and spending cuts have hurt low-income working families.”

Barnardo’s chief executive Anne Marie Carrie said: “This year many of these households will be pushed into financial chaos when the cap on benefits increases take effect, compromising the health and life chances of children as they are forced to grow up in poverty.”

Matthew Reed, chief executive of the Children’s Society, said: “It is shameful that, as one of the richest countries in the world, child poverty is being allowed to increase.”

All these charities are working at the cutting edge of poverty in the UK. The so called ‘squeezed middle’- those of us who might  be forced to alter one or two consumer decisions as a result of cut backs- we rarely come into contact with this kind of poverty.

Angry? We should be.

Decisions taken by our present government are not victimless.

 

The big city…

Today both Michaela and I were in Glasgow for different reasons. I had some work meetings to go to, she was speaking at a conference, so stayed over the night before in a posh hotel.

I really enjoy walking around cities these days- looking at buildings and watching people. I spent some time around Trongate- a place full of small shops, galleries and old buildings still looking for a purpose beyond being a blanks space for a million fly posters.

I took some photos on my mobile phone. Somehow it seems like the right gadget to record urban shots with…

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A flashback to our colonial legacy…

mau mau

We Brits still think of ourselves less as militaristic colonisers, more as civilisers- as if the mission of our Victorian forebear to the rest of the world was to instill stiff upper lips, courts of justice and the gentility of cricket.

Stories this week have revealed some of the bloody ragged edge of Empire however, as the British Government have finally admitted some of the brutality done by ‘our boys’ in our name upon the people of Kenya in the 1950s.

Most of these stories take some believing. Rape, including rape with bottles. Torture. Slaughter of men women and children. All done by British soldiers- not in the context of global struggle, but in a long line of brutality aimed at people regarded as ‘less than’, as savages.

Dig a little further back into the history of British intervention in Kenya and it all makes sense. This from Wikipedia;

Britain’s presence in Kenya was marked by dispossession and violence. In 1894, British MP Charles Dilke had observed in the House of Commons: “The only person who has up to the present time benefited from our enterprise in the heart of Africa has been Mr. Hiram Maxim“,[23]though such a state of affairs was in accordance with insistence of Arthur Hardinge, the first commissioner of British East Africa,[24] that “[t]hese people must learn submission by bullets—it is the only school . . . In Africa to have peace you must first teach obedience and the only person who teaches the lesson properly is the sword.”[25] During the period in which Kenya’s interior was being forcibly opened up for British settlement, Francis Hall, an officer in the Imperial British East Africa Company and after whom Fort Hall was named, asserted: “There is only one way to improve the Wakikuyu [and] that is wipe them out; I should be only too delighted to do so, but we have to depend on them for food supplies”,[26] and colonial officers such as Richard Meinertzhagenwrote of how, on occasion, they massacred Kikuyu by the hundred.[27]

For the next 60 years or so, the Kenyan people were slaughtered, oppressed, lost land, lifestock, economic power, and found themselves less than serfs, working on the farms and plantations of the British. After the second world war, attempts were made to set up a government, but there was never a chance that this would be fair and just;

In May 1951, the British Colonial SecretaryJames Griffiths, visited Kenya, where the Kenyan African Union presented him with a list of demands ranging from the removal of alleged discriminatory legislation to the inclusion of 12 elected black representatives on the Legislative Council that governed the colony’s affairs.[Griffith proposed a Legislative Council in which the 30,000 white settlers received 14 representatives, the 100,000 Asians (mostly from South Asia got six, the 24,000 Arabs one, and the 5,000,000 Africans five representatives to be nominated by the government.

In this struggle- whose side would you be on? Where is justice? Not with we Brits that is for sure. No surprise then that when violence erupted it was necessary to dehumanise;

The official British explanation of the revolt did not include the insights of agrarian and agricultural experts, of economists and historians, or even of Europeans who had spent a long period living amongst the Kikuyu such as Louis Leakey. Not for the first time,[81] the British instead relied on the purported insights of the ethnopsychiatrist; with Mau Mau, it would fall to Dr. John Colin Carothers to perform the desired analysis. This ethnopsychiatric explanation would infect everything, from British psychological warfare, which painted Mau Mau as “an irrational force of evil, dominated by bestial impulses and influenced by world communism”, to the later official study of the uprising, the Corfield Report.[82]

The psychological war became of critical importance to military and civilian leaders, who waged it in the time-honoured colonial fashion of divide and rule, always trying to “emphasise that there was in effect a civil war, and that the struggle was not black versus white”, attempting to isolate Mau Mau from the Kikuyu, and the Kikuyu from the rest of the colony’s population and the world outside. In driving a wedge between Mau Mau and the Kikuyu generally, these propaganda efforts essentially played no role, though they could apparently claim an important contribution to the isolation of Mau Mau from the non-Kikuyu sections of the population.[83]

…The savagery of the British response was inflated by two factors. First, the settler regime in Kenya was, even before the insurgency, probably the most openly racist one in the British empire, with the settlers’ violent prejudice attended by an uncompromising determination to retain their grip on power[112] and half-submerged fears that, as a tiny minority, they could be overwhelmed by the indigenous population.[113] A common view among the settler community was that “[a] good sound system of compulsory labour would do more to raise the nigger in five years than all the millions that have been sunk in missionary efforts for the last fifty”,[114] and its representatives were so keen on aggressive action that George Erskine referred to them as “the White Mau Mau”.[113]Second, the brutality of Mau Mau attacks on civilians made it easy for the movement’s opponents—even for African and loyalist security forces—to adopt a totally dehumanised view of Mau Mau adherents.[112

This savagery is now a fact of historical record rather than debate- check out the rest of the Wikipedia article.

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Why is this relevant now?

Unless we learn from history- and confront what made us what we are – we simply repeat it.

There is no doubt in my mind that Christian missionary activity in Kenya was part of an oppressive colonial regime. It had little to do with the Kingdom if Heaven and everything to do with empire. May God forgive us.

Britain has set itself in allegiance with the USA, the current dominant colonial power in the world- although these days colonialism is more easily understood as globalised capital. We believe ourselves to have moral authority, even after the mess of Iraq and Afghanistan- so that we should police the troubled parts of the world.

Kenya tells us much about the way that other parts of the world see us- and I reckon that this is the tip of the colonial ice berg. Once you start looking through the eyes of the oppressed, empire looks very different.

 

A mouth full of marbles…

Rainbow, kyles of bute

The blog has been rather slow recently- there is a rhythm to blogging that seems to work that way- sometimes it feels like you have nothing to say.

One response to this is to write a blog post about the fact that you have nothing to say. But I would never do that of course.

The fact is, I blog primarily to reflect on who what and where I am. Sometime who I am I do not like.

I am small and shallow,

I am big like a beached whale.

My mouth is  stuffed with marbles

No wonder you look at me and sneer

I have nothing worth saying

For I am nothing

But there- enough. I write this not to wallow in my own mud – but more to honour the policy I made for myself in writing this blog, which was to be as honest as I can be. Even if this is not very.

Yesterday was dark, despite the sunshine. Today the shadows under the trees are laced with purple from the late spring bluebells. I am mercurial- sometimes I think I am better than I was, but then again perhaps not.

Life is full of ups and downs. Sometimes we fly, at other times it is all we can do to just walk.

A weekend of Cricket…

Skippers Robin and Mark exchange the Ashes

Apologies- I know that many of you have no interest in cricket, but this is my blog after all, so here we go again! 

I am rather stiff and sore after playing two games of cricket this weekend- a great rarity in our climate. Yesterdays game in particular was played in glorious sunshine and we are all a little sunburnt.

One of the great pleasures of my middle age is to play cricket in the same team as my son William, who (aged 12) is already better than me as a bowler– we both bowl wrist spin but his has far more fizz and venom, and he can turn the ball both ways with no appreciable change of action. I have the edge in the batting, but not for much longer I am sure- this is mostly about power, not technique.

Only a father who loves cricket will know how much pleasure this gives- I am sure this is true in any sport, but cricket has a kind of sepia timelessness that makes the embrace of the new generation all the more beautiful. Promising kids are cherished by everyone on all sides and old men playing into their twilight years seem to lose twenty years as they smile at a youthful shot well played through the covers – even against their own bowling.

This weekend contained two very different kind of games (both of which we lost!) The first one, played in Greenock on Saturday, was a 2nd XI league match against Prestwick. They rattled up a formidable total after a series of nearly-outs gave them a head start. William and I bowled late- he got a good wicket, but I at least kept things tidy and slowed down their scoring. I batted down at number 8, and when I came in victory was already a forlorn hope. However, I whacked a few and finished with 37 not out, a score well bettered  by young Harry Briggs (aged 14) who made a lovely 57 (there is a match report and scorecard here.) There was an intensity to this cricket- there were few jokes, lots of shouts and loud groans, and damage was done in the dressing room when wickets fell cheaply.

The other game was rather different. We traveled to Edinburgh to play a Royal Botanical Gardens CC, a long time fixture,with Innellan Cricket Club, played for our own cup. Botanics often contain some tasty players as they gather strong fit blokes from Australia as well as home grown talent. However, the emphasis on the game is far more relaxed – the aim is to play friendly cricket in the best kind of way. Winning is important, but not the most important thing- this is that thing called ‘the spirit of the game’; playing well, giving everyone a chance, being honest and fair, having a laugh with friend and foe alike. In fact, the cruelest humour is always reserved for members of our own teams.

Will bowled beautifully again and got a wicket with a perfect curling arc of a ball that defeated a decent batsman in flight and turn. He had every batsman groping and hopping about- much to the delight of their colleagues. I managed a wicket too- a nice one that pinned the batsman plumb in front for an LBW (which I appealed for rather too forcibly, against the gentle friendly tone of the game.) RBG made a healthy 169 at the close, aided by a blistering knock from their tame Aussie.

In a really nice touch our captain let Will and I open the batting- and we spent a few overs teasing each other for each bad shot and enjoying the good ones, until William got a bit too ambitious and hit a shot over the bowlers head to be caught in the deep.  All the clean hitting freedom I had found the day before seemed to have deserted me, but I scratched and edged my way to 25, the point at which we had agreed to retire so everyone had a chance to bat.  I also took one for the team right in the box which brought tears to my eyes from the pain of it and to my team mates eyes for its comedic effect.

Our wickets fell regularly so I came back at the end to accompany our skipper. By then I had a migraine, with all the usual vision problems   (perhaps related to the blow in the testes) so it was a miracle that I hit anything at all, managing only a few runs before timing a drive straight at a fielder and setting off on a suicidal run as I could not see where it had gone. This left the skipper high and dry, but in a typical piece of good sportsmanship the RGB captain invited him to bat on with a runner, as we had only 8 players and this seemed to him to be fair.

Then began one of those pieces of sport that always live in your mind- Robin, our captain, started to open his shoulders, hitting sixes and fours to every side of the ground. Because I was still padded up I acted as runner and almost contrived another run out, having to dive in to make my ground. It was one of the those elbow-skinning, should-know-better, middle-aged dives which has limited forward motion and is more like a rotten tree falling in a wet forest. I was in by about an inch.

We fell just short after 40 overs- 6 runs short in fact – after RGB realised their peril and upped their bowling game in the last over. The game was lost, and no worse for that.

Men in a field, a bat, a ball and lots of laughter. You may laugh at my foolishness, you might justifiably scoff at such a waste of our precious time on earth. What captives were liberated? How many souls saved? How was the cause of humanity served?

All I can say is that you were not there.

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Church, in photographs…

church service

 

Check out this lovely collection of photographs sent in to the Guardian Witness Assignment entitled ‘Your Church Congregation’. It rather dispels the stories of the death of Church as the pictures of full of life and humanity- real people meeting and trying to share good life in the name of Jesus. I found looking at the pictures quite emotional, despite my journey away from established religion.

There is life in the old girl yet…

Here is one of my own congregation;

Andrew upside down

Recession=austerity=extremist politics=the rise of fascism…

di canioIs

Is he or isn’t he?

The Sunderland football team manager, Italian former international Paolo Di Canio, caused a storm recently because of his views on Fascism, and his description of Benito Mussolini as a ‘principled man’. He later retrenched, describing many of his friends as black and all appears forgiven at the club- where results are more important than politics.

Di Canio’s views emerged out of a particular socio-ecomomic context. This from here;

Paolo Di Canio’s Roman upbringing may not excuse any fascistic beliefs he once held but it does help to contextualise them. Born in 1968, Di Canio grew up in a country that was violent and divided, as it had been since Mussolini’s rise to power. The 1945 liberation had failed to stimulate the national unity that fascism had claimed it would build and a vicious settling of scores left around 15,000 Italians dead in the three months that followed. There were no trials, no coming to terms with the past and, consequently, no definitive end to the ideological conflict in Italian society.

After students revolted in 1968, northern factory workers joined the fray in the“hot autumn” of 1969, car industry operatives pitched battles with the forces of order on the streets of Turin. Tacitly supported by the police, secret services and more openly by conservative society, rightwing violence erupted in response. The 1969 Piazza Fontana bombing in Milan left 16 dead and more than 80 wounded. Hastily blamed on anarchists, it was eventually traced to a neo-fascist group based in the Veneto region.

All of which is further evidence of these things;

  • Violence leads to violence
  • Divided splintered societies in which there is a huge wealth imbalance become polarised and breed violence
  • It takes generations to change the political mindset of a particular population
  • Economic turmoil leads to extremism

If this is true, it should be no surprise that we see a rise in hate politics across Europe as austerity bites. In the UK we have seen success for the dreadful British National Party, and the prominence of the English Defence League. Both target immigrants as the source of our nations ills- exploiting the baser and most ignoble part of our British isolationist psyche.

In France, Marine Le Pen and her National front seem to be more popular than ever, despite brushes with the law.

In Greece Golden Dawn is on the rise.

Man in camo trousers stands to attention in front of sea of Greek flag-wavers

 

The mechanisms by which Neo Fascism is finding popularity again are of course complex. In times when people feel desperate and under threat the appeal of someone to blame and an easy fix are always going to be attractive.

There are darker deeper forces at work too – after all, how is it that we do not see the wood for the trees? The cause of our current economic woes has nothing whatsoever to do with inflation or Muslims, and everything to do with the greed of the richest in our economies- who in the UK appear to be doing better than ever. What stops us seeing this so clearly?

I suspect that this is a combination of distraction, aspiration, envy, celebrity worship, and clever manipulation by the ruling elite to maintain the status quo, either by accident or design.

Violent politics flourish in the mess made by capitalism. It has to be resisted…

 

Leadership, networking and the trajectory of pioneering groups…

network

 

I am part of a small ‘missional’ group. We had ‘emerging church‘ conversations, flirted with ‘new monasticism‘. We found the old ‘paradigms’ restrictive and so wanted to do a new thing, using new ‘alternative worship‘ styles.

There you go; I have established my credentials- the badges and trendy buzz words that have allowed me to find a groove to travel in, no matter how shallow and indistinct.

The reality is that this language has often felt contrived and pompous, and the journey of our group has been one of ordinary people trying to get along, whilst searching for a way to live out faith that has some integrity and authenticity. Groups like ours are not unusual, even if they are ephemeral, fragile.

Many small groups like ours set out with pioneering passion- they have this idea of the purity of community releasing a power in them to achieve something special. Often they are right- but very soon it will get messy. The enforced intimacy of small community will crack things open quickly- there is no place to hide at times.

Then there is the inevitable reduction in passion that comes over time; things that were exciting always feel stale with repetition. How do you refresh, revitalise and renew. How do you avoid creating a new narrow liturgy that ensnares every bit as much as the ones we gratefully left behind?

This is the trajectory of most small groups- excited start, success, stagnation, crisis, reinvention (or destruction.)

If we are to be sustainable, if we are to make the longer journeys together, then we will probably need some help in the form of some external connections- we will need to speak to people who understand, who have made some of the same mistakes and dreamed the same dreams. Sometimes we may need others to listen to our pain or laugh with our small absurdity.

Groups like ours are inoculated against organised booted-and-suited religion for the most part. However I remember some interesting research from my old group work days within social work.  I nforget the references (I will try to add them later) but it goes something like this;

The success of a group depends to a large extent on the external context it is embedded within. An example of this might be an encounter group within a hospital or a prison. If the group lacks the support of the establishment this might be a plus at first- people feel embattled and react against their context – but it is simply less likely to be successful in the longer term. However, a little external validation seems to go a long way. So if the staff in the wider hospital speak positively of the group, see it as valuable and helpful, the group absorbs it all, and thrives.

Of course, the links to groups like ours is rather tenuous, but it is no surprise to me that many of the pioneers of missional groups that I know arrived at their adventure after many years of established churching. Despite their maturity, experience and a degree of reaction-formation against the context they escaped from, many of them still look back. Some return.

And this is no bad thing.

In Englandshire, there are good supportive links now for ephemeral groups- there is a wider recognition of the value of micro church through movements like CMS and Fresh Expressions. This is much less the case north of the Border in Scotland.

Last night (and this morning) I had a long discussion with David from Garioch Church, around this kind of stuff. We talked about the possibility of a new kind of network- an old theme for me. 5 years ago we tried to start such a network (see here and here for example) but things did not work out for various reasons.

So here is a question to people north of the border who find themselves on the ragged edge of organised church- where do you find your connections, and is it time to try this networking thing again?

The blessings of place…

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I write this sat in the Garden on a delightfully warm evening.

Michaela is in the living room running a craft course with a group of people.

Will has gone for a walk along the sea front with a couple of pals- heading for the shop and an associated sugar rush. Emily is on her way back home from Glasgow after submitting her higher photography portfolio.

Staying in our annex is Sam, along with Becky and his three lovely kids. We spent an hour sitting in the sun with them watching them play with Emily’s old dolls house.

I am waiting for another friend, David, who is staying here overnight on his way back up north. We will no doubt share a dram and lots of good conversation.

Most of which is made possible by the place that we live.

I often feel guilt about our house. It is fairly big (even if definitely not posh) with fantastic views over the sea. In these days of house-idol-worship it might be considered to be in the upper pantheon. The fact is that we bought it reluctantly when it was in a terrible mess and spent 10 years patching it all back together on a shoe string, but despite this it is still grand enough to often make me wonder about our use of the earths resources.

But without the house, many good things might not happen- in our lives, and hopefully in the lives of many others.

This is no excuse- places have the power to sustain, to enrich, to revive. I pray that this may always be true of our house.