Monthly Archives: December 2017

Quirinius, Governor of Syria

As mentioned at the beginning of chapter 2 of Luke’s gospel, and performed last night in Huddersfield

They blame me, I know they do. The Jews, the Romans, the Christians, my ex- wife: they all blame me. Yet I was no better or worse than the entire imperial family and the legions of Roman administrators who bigged them up. I’d had my moments, strutted my stuff if you like, got a tribute for my military efforts, kept the Pax Romana as best I could. And then it was Syria, keeping the borders, being a diplomat. Me, a diplomat? Orders from Rome to count them, take a census, find out how many there were. Easier said than done. Chaos of course. And in the middle of it one insignificant Jewish couple, her pregnant, him too old for her by far, getting caught up on the route between Galillee and Bethlehem, and I’m done for. My reputation shot to pieces. I was Governor of Syria and it was all down to me. No word about the rest of them, the petty functionaries in every town, taking bribes, cutting corners. The endless Queues, the inadequate planning, the overbooked accommodation and the inevitable communal violence in hot spots like Bethlehem, it was my fault. Ah, Bethlehem, it’s got a lot to answer for. Never been there myself. Avoid all that if I can. Quiet retirement in Rome. A good supply of wine and enough slaves to keep me comfortable.
After all that other trouble in Bethlehem anyone with any sense would give it a wide birth. What happened to them? Heaven knows. She had the baby I think. But born in obscurity, died in obscurity most likely I reckon. Won’t be hearing from them again. But me, different matter, one little census and they never leave you alone. Governor of Syria, well you do better then.

And finally, two thousand years later…..
We pray for Syria,
Squeezed land, fought over, burnt and damaged.
Cities destroyed, people scattered.
We pray for the people of Syria,
And particularly for the children,
Those still there and those who moved,
Voluntarily or under duress, refugees,
Stranded, identity gone, no security,
What future?
We pray for Syria,
Not the first place in the news,
Not the place nearest to our hearts,
Not glamorous or celebrated,
We pray for the people of Syria of all ages
Looking for hope,
Looking for an end to suffering,
Looking for peace.

In our coming and our going,  the peace of God. 

For dark days

Wrapped round by darkness
that increases and recedes
seasonally;
Embraced by night,
aware of the westward sinking
and the eastward rising;
Conscious of the ebbing
of energy and animation;
Framed by darkness,
waiting for the breaking,
and yielding;
I curl up here,
in the velvety dark,
breathing slowly,
hugging myself,
hoping to connect
with God’s promised sameness.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

Psalm 139:12, the light and dark are both the same to God

Tidings of comfort and joy

Like the proverbial curate’s egg Twitter has good and not so good parts. I want to celebrate some of the good bits I’ve found personally
1: it connects me more readily with my best friend who lives in a different country and who I see maybe a couple of times a year. She tweets a lot, and was really responsible for getting me started in this. She connects me to her global concerns and also translates stuff for me to join in.
2: as a result I’m connected to more people. This was important at the time, a couple of years ago, when I felt much less connected particularly to the small part of the church to which I had belonged. The silence and isolation I received there was in stark contrast to the voices of those who I connected with on Twitter, many of whom were women working in different ministries and communities and concerns.
3: being more connected meant I heard about stuff I didn’t know about, projects I got involved in, some I still am. Some have reached their goals others are still struggling. Justice and peace are common themes. There is connection. We don’t give up
4: I also connected with other pray-ers and that helped me to feel reconnected to the true concerns of the church, even if I no longer attended and still got angry or cried a lot about what had happened.
5: it also helped me to connect with a world of other things. A boy at school tweets about Rhinos, others choose anti bullying, homelessness or community development. This way I can stay connected to their concerns even when we don’t meet.
6: I met other people through Twitter, some made cakes, were artists, writers, gardeners, foragers, mental health campaigners and much more. I was not alone or isolated
7: of course it didn’t always go well. A troll thought I should stick to the Church of England instead of getting involved in politics. This was when we were ringing for Aleppo. It was amusing because my forbears left the Church of England in 1662. Faith is not apolitical (even in the Church of England).
I know Twitter had an unkind side and that bothers me a lot but it also communicates kindness, concern and connection, and I really appreciate that.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

Coming back

Jesus is coming back. Pass it on.
A children’s game perhaps?

What about this one? At the Christmas Fair a child of 6 came to the stall of Palestinian handicrafts and looked at a set of beads made from Olive Wood. This item was a beautiful rosary. He took it out of the box and examined it carefully, enjoying the look and the feel of it. He wanted to buy it. So the stall holder promised to look after it for him until he came back. Just as the Fair was coming to an end the child returned with his father and showed him the set of beads that he’d like to buy. The father bought the rosary for his son. He told me, ‘When I was his age I had one, possibly still have somewhere. I know his grandmother will have one.’
The father’s experience of moving away from the faith of his parents and taking just a residual sense of it with him is not uncommon. I meet many people who tell me ‘I used to…’ something or another to do with faith. Sometimes it is their children who bring them back. Quite a few children bought olive wood items from the stall exclaiming in happiness when they discovered where they came from and saying it was for a parent or family member.

Jesus is coming back, and meets us as we meet our children coming towards us with faith to share.

In our coming and our going
The peace of God.