In This Hour

(composed on Maundy Thursday)

emptyaumbry

In this hour
We keep watch in churches
With ones who say
“Surely we are safe in this place”
We keep watch with them as doors splinter
As blood runs

In this hour
We keep watch in doctors’ surgeries
With ones who hear news
“The tests were positive”
We keep watch with them as terror rises
As blood runs cold

In this hour
We keep watch in skyscrapers
With ones whose children say
“When will daddy be home?”
We keep watch as heat rises
As blood ties break

In this hour
We keep watch on ferries and planes
With ones waiting for
“Emergency over”
We keep watch with them as water rises
As blood pumps loudly in the ears

In this hour
We keep watch in a garden
With the one who says
“Not my will”
We keep watch as friends sleep
As blood sweat drips.

This is the hour of darkness
The hubub of mad confusion
Dark terror reigns

In this hour, we watch and pray.

Mark Harper’s cleaner

Yesterday’s news was that Mark Harper has resigned as minister for immigration after learning that his cleaner was not permitted to work in the UK. Before saying anything else, we should applaud Mr Harper’s courage and honesty in holding himself accountable to the laws over which he presides.

But I believe Mr Harper does not go nearly far enough. This event must also call into question the very immigration laws by which Mr Harper finds himself accused. If even the minister for immigration is unable to comply with the immigration laws, something is wrong. We should be asking ourselves whether it is really the minister who should go. Or is it, perhaps, the laws which need to be removed? Continue reading

Shipwreck

I suppose I might have known
At the start: on the day I took her helm.
I could feel it in her timbers
Written deep in every board and beam.

Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen.

It was easy to forget
As she sprinted down the slipway.
Serene amidst the crash and wave and spray
As one born to the water.

But even then it was true:
Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen.

Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen:
Whether cast upon a foreign shore
Or sunken, out of sight beneath the waves
Or secretly, shamefully stripped in a wrecker’s yard.

Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen.

Oh and we had our times.
When the sea was up
And every wave ploughed over:
a victory.

Or when the calm of ages descended
And there came upon us
That eternal silence
Of the deep.

Days of bright sunlight
And dark tempest
Hard going
And easy breeze.

We scarcely thought about it then, but:
Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen.

Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen:
And even unsinkable ships sink.
It is written in their timbers:
In every board and beam.

And so she lies:
Masts broken,
Rigging ragged, torn and tangled,
Hull splintered.

They urge me to move on:
To newer, bigger, better craft.
She had her time – good time:
Now others take her place.

But my eyes, through tears, are filled with:
Masts broken,
Rigging ragged,
Hull splintered.

I see her form upon the shore
Where all ships, in their time, are dashed.
But, now, amongst the carnage
One other wreck takes my eye.

One wreck, in whose beams the word is: life!
One wreck whose every wound is victory
One wreck at once past, present, future
One wreck which rises on the tide…

And so, I have a hope.
A dream.
A promise.
A light.

Every ship is a shipwreck waiting to happen:
But I wait for another age
When this ship will be made anew
And the word in every board and beam is life.

Mulled Wine

Ingredients

1-2 sticks of cinnamon
1 nutmeg
15 cloves
5ml coriander seeds
5 cardamom pods
300ml orange juice (from 4-6 oranges)
¼ cup brown sugar
300ml water
750ml red wine
150ml cognac

Directions

Put everything except wine and spirit into a pot. (The cardamom needs shelling).

Float empty orange shells on top. (Assuming you didn’t short-cut it with carton stuff).

Simmer until spicy tasting.

Add wine and spirit and heat to almost boiling.

Don’t drink all at once.

Food banks

Food banks are all high profile now with the today’s debate in parliament and the news that the government didn’t seem to take the debate seriously. There is a lot of criticism of the government. This bothers me, not because the Tories are in any way innocent, but because it is distracting us from more important truths. Here follows some of the things we ought to be saying in response to the rise of food banks.

(This, by the way, is a rant. I am currently writing a book on the subject which goes into more depth, and more calmly. But the points in this post need to be made now.) Continue reading

Hitchens vs Perry

For editors of TV panel programs, Peter Hitchens is through-and-though good value for money. Whatever the subject is, he is guaranteed to say at least one thing which almost everyone will find objectionable and at least one thing which almost everyone will find absurd. And he’ll do both with wit, eloquence and deep conviction. Let’s face it, righteous indignation sells TV and Hitchens generates bucket-loads of it; presenter, panel, studio audience and home audience are all engaged to the deepest fibre of their being.

I do wonder whether anyone had prepared Matthew Perry for this. Whatever the case, it certainly made entertaining TV and the Guardian reported on it with enthusiasm. Naturally, we find ourselves very much in sympathy with Perry as he openly admits on television that he suffers from alcoholism, only to be pilloried by Hitchens, in whose view there is no such thing as addition to alcohol – just bad choices. Continue reading

Sunday’s sermon: the dishonest manager

Amos 8:4-7; Luke 16:1-13.

You’ve probably, like me, had phone calls from personal injury lawyers asking if you’ve ever been in an accident. One person who received such a call had been in an accident – a minor fender-bender. He told them he was fine, he hadn’t been injured. But the lawyers were insistent – was he sure? Sometimes it takes time for an injury to become apparent. Has he ever had neck pain since the accident? They kept calling back and one day his neck was sore – probably due to stress. They said he should sue. No need to second-guess himself – let the court to decide. There was no downside: no win no fee. Come on, they urged, you have nothing to lose and you might get something out of it. Give it a go.

It was the promise of money that swung it, and he agreed. After all, it would only be an insurance company that suffered – and they could afford it. The process ground on over months and months, and eventually a court date was set. No need to go along to court, the lawyers said, but he felt he should. Come the day, he stood trembling in the courtroom, feeling like everyone could see right through him. His lawyer laid it on thick (which is okay – “this is expected in court” – “don’t worry, just let me do the talking”). The defendant’s lawyer slung it back equally as strongly – “the claimant is lying through his teeth” – “this is an egregious abuse of the system, insurance fraud”. The atmosphere was thick with recrimination.

Eventually the arguments concluded and the court awarded compensation of £300 (plus, of course, £1000 on top of that to cover the legal costs). Our not-so-hero just wanted to run away but to his terror he saw the defendant’s lawyer approaching. “Here it comes”, he thought, “this man knows I have just cheated his company out of £1300”. The lawyer marched up and began to speak to the man’s own lawyer, “Nicely played – I’m off to the pub – fancy a pint?” Continue reading

Poem – Saturday

On Holy Saturday, you don’t know how it ends.

It’s Saturday today:
We want to believe in Sunday,
To know of the new world in the morning.
But we cannot see it
Because it’s Saturday.

It’s Saturday today:
We want to pray to the living God,
But the living God is cold and dead in the ground.
He doesn’t hear
Because it’s Saturday.

It’s Saturday today:
And this is no noble death,
No long life full spent.
And we cannot hope
Because it’s Saturday.

We cry empty Saturday tears.
And wonder whether God is big enough.
Whether he is not at the last
defeated by human choice.
Whether love can conquer all.
Whether love can ever smile under the colours of the sun
or must it forever tarry in the grim half-light?
Can love ever, in the end, be more than longing, aching loss?

On Holy Saturday, you don’t know how it ends.
But fleshy God dies with us fleshy men
in the fallen Saturday world.

Copyright 2012 Tom Brazier

Christian Charity CEO Salaries

The Church Times recently (9 Aug) published an article discussing salaries of CEOs of Christian Charities. This follows a Daily Telegraph article and comments by William Shawcross, the director of the Charity Commission. The Church Times article reported that Loretta Minghella, Christian Aid’s chief exec, is paid £126,206 a year, Justin Byworth of World Vision gets £95,000, Matthew Frost of Tearfund, £92,000 and Chris Bain of CAFOD, £87,567.

Christian Aid has responded to the criticism by saying that they need “the best people possible to lead what is a large and complex organisation”. World Vision, similarly, said, “we need to attract the right person with the right skills and experience”. Sir Stephen Bubb, CEO of the Association of Chief Executives of Voluntary Organisations is quoted as saying that executive pay “simply isn’t an issue for donors”. He also repeats the mantra, “To keep talent, really strong people, at the top of these organisations, they need to be paid properly”.

Well, Sir Stephen, you’re mistaken. I am a charity donor and was, until reading the Church Times article, on the verge of becoming a financial supporter, specifically, of Tearfund. Now, though, I am not so sure. This is not to say I no longer believe in Tearfund’s work – it is amazing – but that I am having serious second thoughts about the charity’s culture and, particularly, about the character of their leadership. Is this a sign of rot at the core, which will slowly consume the entire enterprise? Continue reading

My speech to general synod

I am not a member of general synod, but if I were and if I were called to speak about women in the episcopate, this is what I would have said:

My brothers and sister, how can we even have this conversation? Because we aren’t really talking about women bishops are we? We’re really still, to some degree, back in 1992 talking about whether women can even be priests. And yet here, all around us are our sisters in Christ, whose entire understanding of the person God is most truly calling them to be, is the identity of a priest. How can we calmly discuss this matter when so much weighs upon it for these sisters we love?

Then again, how can we have this conversation when the room contains brothers and sisters whose entire concept of the church, the body of Christ, so foundational to our identity as disciples of the Lord, is that it cannot have women in certain orders of ministry? Continue reading