Heart Beat

This week sees the inauspicious anniversary of the death of William Harvey in 1578. He was a London doctor, credited with being the first to discover that blood circulates around the body, pumped by the beat of the heart. The heart as our life-source, sends oxygen and nutrients through veins and arteries, so that, physically, we as humans can operate as we do. The pump of the heart has, however, become the symbol of what we are emotionally and psychologically. We talk of the ‘heart racing’ when there is physical attraction towards someone; we speak of the ‘heart being full’, may be of praise and admiration of others’ accomplishments; and we articulate the words ‘our hearts are heavy’ when referring to tragedy or crisis in our lives.

Heavy hearts

It is certainly the case that the lattermost ‘heart expression’ is all too true for large swathes of the globe at this moment, as we are facing what is a second world crisis – first pandemic and now the fall-out of the war in Ukraine. As we sit in front of our screens and are confronted daily with heinous atrocities perpetrated against the most innocent and defenceless, such as in Mariupole, our hearts are, indeed, heavy as we stand and watch what was a normal, thriving, Western city suffer such decimation, and its inhabitants reduced to starvation, homelessness and loss of all semblance of life as they knew it.

Broken hearts

In the Psalms, King David writes: ‘the Lord is near to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Jesus echoes this sentiment in Matthew’s gospel: ‘Come to me all you who are heavy laden and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.’ The incarnation of God in Christ is a message from the heart of the Creator and Sustainer that he forever identifies with pain and trauma – with those who are suffering and with those who feel for the pain of others, and it is the responsibility of all those who claim to follow him, to be those who carry burdens and share in the heaviness of heart that others experience. But emphasis should be on the ‘sharing,’ for none of us is expected to bear the weight of the world upon one’s shoulders and heart. On reflecting upon the import of Lent, it is that we who may be ‘heavy in heart’ are driven to prayer and to share with, and inquire of, God what he may be asking any of us to do in response. It is then to understand that it is His task for us, and not the task of the lone stoic with the sense of ‘ought’ around his or her neck. It comes back to the Christian’s understanding of service, which we can do with purpose, but also with joy, even in the midst of pain: holding both these things in tension is to reflect the very nature of the passion and triumph of the cross and resurrection.

Heart restored

So let us go where the heart says but be directed by the one whose heart beats for each one of us, whatever state we find ourselves in.

(With thanks to Revd Alex Aldous, Chaplain of Prestfelde Prep School)

What makes for a great ruler?

In a week when our screens and social media platforms are full of images and stories of war, violence and atrocities, I was drawn to a true story mentioned in a book by Revd. Anthony Buckley (The Well-Tempered Gallery), one of our TISCA trustees.

A great King

The 8th century chronicler known as the Venerable Bede, writes about Edwin of Northumbria, a 7th century King of one of the seven kingdoms which came to make up England. Bede says that Edwin was a great king because ‘a woman and child could walk unmolested from coast to coast‘. For Bede, the criteria of a great king did not lie in battles won or riches accumulated, but simply in creating a society where people feel safe. How did he achieve this? Historians seem to agree on two factors: firstly, leadership of character. He modelled an attitude of respect and expected this same behaviour in his household and court as he did across the kingdom. Secondly, leadership of action. Edwin was ruthless against those who disregarded his example and his laws.

Chivalric idea

For several hundred years the chivalric idea of using strength well was an aspiration for leaders. Minstrels, bards and story tellers also realised the importance of tales which strengthens a culture of respect and protection. Let’s pray for more leaders like King Edwin today – and for uplifting stories of honour, integrity and respect.

Gritty love

It was St Valentine’s Day this week but rather than share a story of romantic love, here’s a true one about gritty, Jesus-shaped love…

Sing Sing

In 1921 Lewis Lawes became warden at Sing Sing, New York’s maximum security prison. This correctional facility had the reputation of being the USA’s toughest institution but when Lawes retired 20 years later it had become known for its humanitarian ways. When asked the secret of this transformation, Lewis Lawes said: ‘I owe it all to my wonderful wife, Katherine, who is buried outside the prison walls’.

The Angel of Sing Sing

Katherine Lawes was a young mother of three children when Lewis became warden. Against all advice, she took the family inside the prison to support basketball matches. She was determined to help where she could, even learning braille to teach one blind prisoner and sign language to communicate with a deaf-mute prisoner. Many said that Katherine Lawes was the presence of Jesus in Sing Sing from 1921-1937 and she was nicknamed ‘The Angel of Sing Sing’.

A freak accident

In October 1937 Katherine died in a freak accident on a bridge. The following morning Lewis didn’t come to work and an acting warden took over as Katherine’s body was laid to rest in a casket at the family home just under a mile from the prison gates. The next day the acting warden was shocked to see an immense crowd, including the toughest of criminals, gathered at the main gate, many in tears. He knew how much they loved Katherine: ‘All right, men, you can go. Just be sure and check in tonight’. The criminals walked to Katherine’s home, without a guard, to pay their final respects – and every one checked back in. Every one! ‘Gentle Jesus, meek and mild? As if!’ That’s gritty love – and its impact.

A journey justified

As the Omicron virus variant begins to bite, again the question lurks in our minds in this merry month of December: ‘Will journeys be curtailed to keep Christmas alive?’ As travel cancellations escalate and holidays are again delayed, there’s a growing fear that visiting relations and friends may be reduced to avoid the ‘Déjà voodoo’ of a hapless lockdown.

Journeys, however, feature strongly in that first Christmas story, and risks were taken – well beyond the realm of the sensible, sanitised, modern mind-set of the West. Firstly, through the demands of a Roman census, a heavily pregnant mother was forced to travel seventy miles by donkey through the dangerous Samarian countryside which would have taken four days at its smoothest – not quite the 1 hour 50 minutes that it takes today by car from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Joseph, who would naturally have wanted to protect his wife, might therefore have opted for a safer route, but this could have extended the journey to a week, despite knowing that she was ‘great with child.’

Then there was the epic journey of the Parthian magi from the borders of Afghanistan and Syria guided not by sat-nav but by the stars, or rather, one in particular. It had been their conviction after much soul and sky searching that a regal birth had been ushered in, and a sense of mystery and divine curiosity goaded them on to cover the 500 miles, taking them eighteen months or more.

For the shepherds out on the Judean hills, the journey was not nearly so long – but they were ‘under the influence’ of angels and bright lights, and this caused them irrationally to abandon their flocks, potentially to the ravages of wild animals.

For all the central figures that first Christmas journey was fraught with risk and danger, but they were put aside for greater purposes: the celebration of a new-born king who would ‘reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and for ever,’ as the prophet, Isaiah puts it.

It is a similar sense of daring and abandonment that the Christian message calls us all to make: to go with haste and inquire into what this story could mean for us in our hearts. Of course, it might mean disposing some of the excess baggage that we’re so tempted to carry at this festive time – an over-emphasis on self-indulgence, a preoccupation with consumerism and ‘stuff,’ and a scant regard for how the poor and marginalised might be coping as they languish in Yuletide shadows. Our travelling to meet the Saviour face to face, like the crib figures, is down to will power and a heart-felt conviction. Do we want to make that journey? For those who are making it now and have done for centuries it needs no justification. As Ralph Washington Sockman once said: ‘The hinge of history is on the door of a Bethlehem stable.’ History was changed by that journey, and ‘his-story’ for each one of us can begin there too… and transform us.

May each of us consider making that personal journey this year and keep Christmas alive– a very happy and joy-filled season to you all!

(With thanks to Revd Alex Aldous, chaplain of Prestfelde Prep School, Shrewsbury)

A timely word

A recent daily devotion led me to Proverbs 15:23, ‘A person finds joy in giving an apt reply – and how good is a timely word!’ In the NLT version it reads, ‘Say the right thing at the right time’.

I was in London this week taking my 88 year old mum to a musical as a birthday treat. Mum is a Londoner and she hadn’t been to the City, let alone live there, for many years. She is proud of her place of birth and it didn’t disappoint! Looking somewhat lost in the street, someone stopped and helped us find the theatre. On the crowded tube, Mum was given a seat three times and, on the last occasion, the young man who had given up his seat took the time and trouble to wish us a pleasant evening as he left the train. Mum was thrilled with ‘the timely word’.

Whilst from a radically different era and setting, our experience this week reminded me what Victor Frankl, a former concentration camp inmate, wrote: ‘We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances’.

Let’s choose to smile and to give that ‘timely word’, even to strangers, even if we are rebuffed or ignored. I suspect we shall find our attitude and our words accepted many more times than they are ever refused or scorned.

Commitment that never changes

Last week I was preparing to give a speech at my sister-in-law’s wedding. As my mind turned to 1 Corinthians 13 for inspiration – a ‘typical wedding reading’ – I was struck again by Paul’s incredible words about love which ‘believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things’ (v7 NAS). Whatever it is we are preparing for in the months ahead – perhaps a new role, a new school, a change in our family, a new home location (etc.), or ‘just’ staying the same – this remains an immense challenge. I wonder if we might take some encouragement and direction from a commitment given by those who come into membership at a church in Washington state, USA (whether or not we are people of faith)? What follows is a promise mutually given by the existing members of the congregation and by new adherents:

‘You’ll never knowingly suffer at my hands. I’ll never knowingly say or do anything to hurt you. I’ll always, in every circumstance, seek to help and support you. If you’re down and I can lift you, I’ll do that. If you need something and I have it, I’ll share it with you. If I need to, I’ll give it to you. No matter what I find out about you, no matter what happens in the future – either good or bad – my commitment to you will never change. And there’s nothing you can do about it!’

This is truly revolutionary and life changing! Dare we embrace such an approach in our day-to-day lives – in our workplaces, our homes. If not, dare I ask myself (and yourself), why not? It’s easy, perhaps, to say that this approach is unrealistic but it has clearly worked for the aforementioned church (membership rose from a handful to over 4,000 in a matter of a few years). It certainly worked for the Early Church in the First Century which ‘had everything in common‘ (Acts 2) and gave to anyone who had need – freely. My personal challenge, taken from the church commitment above, is this: If you’re down and I can lift you, I’ll do that. What will yours be?

Love conquers all

In the wake of the last-gasp failed penalties at the Euro football finals a week ago, most of us were appalled at the racist comments on social media and then the defacing of footballer Marcus Rashford’s mural which followed. (For those reading this who are not British, Marcus Rashford is a Premiership and England footballer – soccer – who is black and has been vocal on a number of key social issues in the UK, not least securing school lunches in the holidays for the most disadvantaged children.) However, I was then moved this week by the positive response to the defacing of the Marcus Rashford mural in Manchester – messages of hope, love and reconciliation with pictures of hearts, flags and flowers. In Proverbs 16:7 we read: ‘When the Lord takes pleasure in anyone’s way, he causes their enemies to make peace with them’ – and I pray this happens with those who have lashed out with abuse, unkindness and hatred.

One of the greatest examples of someone who responded with love in the face of hatred was Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the USA. Born into poverty, Lincoln was faced with adversity throughout his life. He lost eight elections, failed twice in business and suffered a nervous breakdown. He could have quit many times – but he didn’t, and because he didn’t give up, he is now considered to have been one of the greatest presidents in the history of the United States of America.

One of Abraham Lincoln’s earliest political enemies was Edward Stanton. In one speech he called Lincoln a ‘low, cunning clown’. In another he said, ‘It’s ridiculous to go to Africa to see a gorilla when you can find one just as easily in Springfield, Illinois’. Lincoln never responded in kind and, when elected President, he appointed Stanton as Secretary of War, explaining to the incredulous that ‘he’s the best man for the job’. Years later when Lincoln was slain and his body lay in state, Edward Stanton looked down with tears in his eyes and said, ‘There lies the greatest ruler of men the world has ever seen’. His animosity had been broken by Lincoln’s long-suffering, non-retaliatory spirit.

It is so easy to gloss over the poetry of Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13, but let’s remember that these are the words of someone who was frequently thrown into prison for doing good, given 40 lashes five times, beaten with rods three times, shipwrecked three times, starved, denied water, stoned and left cold and naked (cf 2 Corinthians 11). As we re-read what Paul wrote about love, let’s see what we can do to apply at least one of these actions to our daily lives – and thus be part of the fight to ensure love conquers all:

‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails’ (1 Corinthians 13: 4-8 NIV)

Smoke alarm moments!

I recently attended an excellent conference organised by CCE (Centre for Chaplains in Education) on the theme, ‘People of Hope in times of change‘. One of the workshops was led by Dr Kate Middleton (not a royal personage!) who spoke engagingly about mental health issues facing young people today. It was an upbeat message but she did relate, from her work with teenagers especially, how some no longer look forward to the future with keen anticipation but consider it may now be ‘rubbish’. Many adults perhaps also share this jaundiced view of the future. She then encouraged us to consider how we might help change this perception.

Wired brains

Our brains are wired to recognise three ‘systems’ in particular: threats, a drive for pleasure and a sense of clam and soothing. Unfortunately, perhaps, the only one ‘turned on’ all the time is ‘threat’: whilst a necessary response mechanism to perceived and real danger (a speeding car, an aggressive dog, a sharp drop…) it is also increasingly engaged by a negative and scaremongering Press which causes a ‘smoke alarm’ reaction in us. We rush to detect the danger which we then spend time analysing, dwelling over and imagining further. There may indeed be a ‘fire’ but more often than not it’s a false alarm – an insect walking across the sensor, a battery which has run down or a faint wisp of harmless moisture. We need to find ways to balance threat’s adrenalin with dopamine, stimulated by a drive to engage in pleasurable hobbies, sport and work routines. In addition, threat and desire are best aligned with the soothing effects of oxytocin which is released through positive social connections and love.

Hormones

I am no scientist and won’t pretend to understand what these hormones are, but I do relate to the need for all of us, and not just young people, to engage each harmoniously. Dr Middleton recommended three measures whereby we can take control of our wellbeing and, in modelling them (particularly to family members and young people damaged emotionally by the lockdowns and the pandemic), help others to do the same. The first is doing something over which we can exercise personal control: this might be engaging in art, building a Lego model, tidying out a cupboard or completing a puzzle. The second suggestion involves ways to stimulate endorphins, chemicals released by the body to relieve stress and pain: exercise, social connections and engaging in ‘awe’ such as watching birds soar, clouds move and stars sparkle. Finally, we should pursue joy (safely and legitimately!) by making time for those hobbies and pursuits we so enjoy.

Listen

I believe there is every reason to expect that we shall emerge from the difficulties of these past two years stronger, resilient, more caring and complete but we need to be gentle on ourselves, take sensible advice and listen wisely (and not just to the ‘smoke alarms’). As it says in Proverbs 16:4, ‘Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones’.

A life well lived

In Easter week, the UK nation and our world mourned the passing of His Royal Highness, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. This is a man who has stood head and shoulders above so many, in countless different ways, and yet has served the country and his Queen with grace and humility, seeking never to extol his own successes or virtues. Only now has the general populous been privy to the vast array of his credentials and achievements but we have also had illuminating insight into the enormous influence he has held in so many areas of our national and international life.

I also want to add, by way of personal context, that Easter week was also one of mourning for the Reid family as my 96 year old father, Johnnie Reid, passed on, too. Whilst not well known, unlike Prince Philip, he also led a rich, varied and valuable life. Like the Prince he was a Naval man (Merchant Navy), and my Dad found himself working from Scotland to the Caribbean, Asia to Africa. He was a marine engineer and later came to work for twenty years in west Africa (where I was born) before returning to the UK and a multitude of roles and jobs including being a steward in a golf course, a security guard, a maintenance man and a gardener. Like Prince Philip, he was a man of loyalty (married, for example, for 66 years), someone of duty and integrity.

In reflecting on Prince Philip as a family man, he was in Her Majesty’s words ‘a constant strength and stay,’ ‘a rock’ and a source of counsel and refuge. My own father was all this, too, and not least to my mother. These are descriptions, as Christians, which we attribute to God, but it was through the Prince’s own faith and theological wrestling (qualities which I can’t claim for my father), as well as an openness and sympathy for the most ordinary of people that produced in him a spiritual and social roundedness which themselves are legacies for us to emulate. Forthright he undoubtedly was, and unafraid to speak his mind, but we are reminded that it was just before that first Easter when Christ himself, who did not stand on ceremony, overturned the tables in the temple and was open to misunderstanding by the reigning authorities.

In this past week, we have contemplated upon the agony of the cross as well as the triumph of the resurrection, and in our grief for someone so dear who has passed on, we reach out with the deepest sympathy to our beloved Queen and her family (and also to my mother and wider family in our own loss). However, we are also invigorated with Easter rising by so much of what we should all aspire to be in our own calling in life. Prince Philip’s name means ‘lover of horses,’ and ne’er was a name so apt. From expert polo player to dogged carriage driver, the picture of resurrection perhaps cannot be captured more poignantly than by the Old Testament picture of Elijah’s translation to heaven in a chariot of fire. This is one which indeed ‘spurs’ us on not to languish in grief but to set our faces towards the eternal, for as St Paul says in his triumphant declaration of Christ’s resurrection: ‘what is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable.’ In the crucible of death all our deeds, words, motives and intentions are tried by fire and what for each one of us is left that stands that is of lasting worth and has indelibly left its mark upon others for God’s kingdom?

We would like to think that over these past few days, the Duke will have received the heartening words from the True Giver of Rewards– ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant, receive the gold award which awaits for you.’ As we have heard, it will not have been just for those things which are noticeable and public, but for the small, personal and unwitting acts of kindness for which he will be remembered – and here again I reflect on my father’s desire to do right by everyone. Prince Philip’s life and influence itself lays down the gantlet to us all and begs the question: what we will make of our lives, whether it be nine or ninety-nine for family, our friends, our nation and for the Kingdom of the Almighty? My Dad’s 96 years also challenges me to consider what being loyal, honest and loving really means – and to sustain these qualities over such a rich, varied and adventurous life.

(Blog with thanks to Revd. Alex Aldous, school chaplain)

Heartbreak

It was on this day (27th January), 65 years ago, that the King of Rock, Elvis Presley, released his first million-selling single ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’ achieving the accolade of reaching the ‘top five’ of Country and Western, pop and Rhythm and Blues simultaneously. The lyrics were inspired by a recorded tragedy of a man jumping from a hotel window through jilted love.

‘At Heartbreak Hotel
Where I’ll be–where I get so lonely, baby
Well, I’m so lonely
I get so lonely, I could die.’

As we are all aware, loneliness, this lockdown, has reached epidemic proportions and the homes that people have been confined to through ongoing restrictions have indeed become their Heartbreak Hotels: hearts that have been broken, through not reuniting with friends and loved ones they crave to embrace and hold and have the simplest of conversations with. The ‘Hotels’ may quarantine the body but never the mind, heart and soul. The Psalmist stated that ‘the Lord planted the lonely in families’ but it has become the Hotel of Discomfort that has separated them again and as we daily imbibe our news updates, we share the anguish of all who are in isolation.

It seems almost trite to provide easy religious messages to massage the pain that so many are enduring, but as humans created for intimate relationship, it would be wrong also not to point people back to our Lord. He it was who Himself endured loneliness, not just in coming to this earth, or in the misunderstanding of those who claimed to follow Him, but on the cross when He experienced the desolation of the Father abandoning him – why? so that we could be reunited with Him. It is the cry from numerous psalms that it is in our human desolation and out of our depths – brought on by any number of circumstances – that we call out and look up. It is as we are still before God that we are reminded that He, who knew anguish of soul, is the One who stands by us at the very worst of times. How do we know this? Because it was not only in His becoming like one of us and sharing our experience of humanity in all its glory and its degradation, but through the work of reconciliation on the cross that He restores, comforts and reminds us that we are not alone. Nothing about us, nor how we feel about ourselves or our condition can separate us from the love of God, and it is the promise of His holy and indwelling Spirit that He gives to us – the pre-eminent Comforter – that reminds us that we are not alone.

The monument to Presley’s hit, ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’ stood for thirty years in Memphis, but it was torn down to make room for the new Guest House at Graceland – now there’s a parable! We are all, as humans, welcomed into His house and habitation of Grace, but he does not call us His guests, but as friends for ever: the ‘Heartbreak’ for Him is that not more of us welcome the move.

(Reproduced by kind permission of Revd Alex Aldous, Prestfelde School chaplain)