The Inauguration of the 46th

The 46 degree halo is a rare member of the family of ice crystal halos, appearing as a large ring central on the sun, with light entering one side of the crystal and exiting from another. Whether the 46^th President sees himself and his inauguration in such a light and whether this day heralds a new era of transparency, reflection and refraction remains to be seen. What is certain is that the eyes of the world will be beaming down upon him and expect something iridescent in return. It would be a great reassurance if, in the back of Joe Biden’s mind, if not articulated in person, were the words on the lips of JF Kennedy exactly forty years ago: ‘Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.’

At a time across our world where we have needed State and government intervention like never before, it might seem unpopular, and indeed cruel, not to ask for our country to respond to need and to those in dire straits. However, it is in those times when men and women are in a state most perilous, that the light can shine brightest. We have been privileged to witness over past months many acts of courage and fortitude in the face of danger – most noticeably in our hospitals and in care homes where men and women have put themselves at the utmost risk to save lives and are shining forth, amidst sacrificial sweat and tears. For all of us, there may be challenges in the home, in the virtual school, and in relationships we have, which may seem overbearing at times. We have grown up in a culture in the West where we have expected the Nanny State to look after us, and yet it is in digging deep, when life is at its most raw that we can ask again – what can we do for our country? What can we do for our community and the neighbours living next to us?

It is the 46^th chapter of the New Testament, Luke 2, that we have the birth story of our Lord Jesus, where mother and father are near the end of their tether at the end of a long journey to register for the census, rewarded only with a stable as a bed. It is just near there that the angelic glory shone around those bedraggled shepherds and it drives these ordinary countryfolk to identify with their Lord and show support – and what was the result? They went back to their fields glorifying and praising God for all that they’d seen – such is the reward for those who seek to serve and find. For me, in hard times, when up against it, I have often fled to the psalms and particularly to Psalm 46 which shines out more than any crystal that the world affords: ‘God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble…be still and know that I am God…the Almighty …is our fortress.’ May those words be true for those across the Pond on this auspicious day, who claim ‘In God we trust’, whether Democrat or Republican. May it also be true for us whatever stance we may take in life, as we are open to the Sun of Righteousness shining through to bring His halo of love and light in the darkest of places: that indeed can and will bring an inauguration of something new for all of us in time to come… if we give him permission.

(Reproduced with kind permission of Rev Alex Aldous, school chaplain)

Drops of grace as life stutters

As we approach the inauguration of the 46th President of the USA, we are being reminded that Joe Bidden is one among 3% of the world’s population who stutters – or stammers. Ed Balls, former MP, ‘Strictly star’ and Shadow Secretary of State for Education was once mocked in the House of Commons for stumbling over his words – someone else who stutters through life. I, too, count myself as part of this select 3%!

Not long ago I read in the Press about author Chris Young, who was trying to get in touch with his English teacher, a Miss Ward, from the late 1970s. Mr Young, who commended his teacher for supporting him after his mother died and his alcoholic father could not cope, tweeted: ‘I’d dropped into the bottom quarter for English at school. My English Teacher, Miss Ward, pulled me out of that ditch’. At the age of 13 years, Miss Ward ‘treated me like a rock star, loved what I wrote and got me to talk in front of the class’. He has now launched his first book!

I imagine (and I hope) that we all have memories of someone who has stood by us, encouraged us and ‘been there for us’ when the going got tough. Whilst my early life was very different from that of the gentleman above, I can also remember a teacher who impacted me positively and immeasurably – and who also gave me confidence to speak in front of others. Her name was Miss Margaret Maclaurin and she was my elocution teacher at Prep School in Scotland in the 1960s.

My parents lived and worked in West Africa and were in a remote area of Ghana when the time came for me to go to school aged five. There was nowhere suitable for me locally and so I came to board, aged five, at Drumley House Prep School near Ayr. Whilst I have only fond memories of my eight years at Drumley, at some point in my early years there I developed a stammer. This was possibly a result of the separation from my parents (although I usually spent my holidays with them in Ghana or, when home on leave, in Paisley). Miss Maclaurin came to my rescue! She saw me once a week for elocution lessons and during this time not only did I learn a few ‘tricks’ (such as how to avoid using words beginning in ‘p’ when feeling tired and stressed), I also learnt about speaking in public. Where this was once the most disarming place for me as a stutterer, it came to be a challenge which I relished. Miss M taught me to learn poetry off by heart so that when I declaimed I could concentrate on expression, modulation and emphasis and not have to worry about the words themselves.

As a Head I had to speak in public almost daily and owe a huge debt of gratitude towards Miss Maclaurin. It was a delight to visit her in her home when she had retired and I was newly married and to introduce her to my wife, Rosalyn. So engrossed were we in conversation that we quite forgot that Rosalyn had gone off to the bathroom (and somehow locked herself in) – but that’s another story!

So, a challenge for us all during a time when life is stuttering in another way: think of someone who has had a positive impact on our lives in years gone by and why not surprise them with a letter, a card, a call or even a visit – just to show appreciation. It might prove to be a ‘drop of grace’ in their life at this very moment. You’ll never know if you don’t try it – and who knows, someone may do it for you, too!

Speaking the truth in love…

Last week, a top official was dismissed from his office for stating that widespread voter fraud across the Pond was entirely baseless and without any credibility. ‘The question of Truth’ appears once more to be on trial. Stating something loud enough, irrespective of validity, and to people who massage one’s ego sufficiently, seems to be the norm… in certain quarters. In Roman mythology, ‘Veritas,’ the goddess of Truth is the daughter of Saturn, called Chronos (Time) by the Greeks. Time will certainly tell – truth always has a habit of coming out and the checks and balances put right, though at what cost?

Without truth, stability in society and trust and confidence between individuals cannot flourish – all of us need to know ‘where we are.’

Unconcealment

However, in our dealings with others, it is well to remember the philosopher, Heidegger, who made a distinction between the Roman and Greek conceptions of truth as their gods declared it. ‘Aletheia,’ the Greek god, he argues, essentially means ‘unconcealment’: in other words bringing out of obscurity and darkness that which needs to be brought into the light. ‘Veritas’, on the other hand refers to the Roman virtue of truthfulness, a state of being reflecting that which is right, but winsome and sensitive. Just saying something which we believe to be right, is not enough, but it is how we say it.

St Paul spoke of the need for us as citizens to ‘speak the truth in love’ and this is the challenge. Being dogmatic and ‘barking’ out a truth (to forgive the pun!) about someone or something may be technically correct but wins no favours and certainly not another person whom one may be wishing to ‘put in their place.’ It is how we say something, and exercise love with it, that is of greater importance.

In need of more grace

During this lockdown and in the midst of this prolonged pandemic, it is easy for each of us to feel tempers fraying and frustrations boiling over, and taking them out on others within our community and amongst our families is perfectly understandable, but not necessarily excusable. It is at this time that we all need to avail ourselves more of God’s grace and love, realizing that of our own resources we are frail. As the psalmist says: ‘I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to a rock that is higher than I.’ Of ourselves, especially in isolation behind our own walls, it’s so easy to shoot from the hip, to defend truth as we see it and make judgments which, though they may seem accurate are not always appropriate to articulate.

In the end, when it comes to truth, I am led to someone who declared in himself that He was The Way, the Truth and the Life. Truth, when it is clothed in flesh and soaked in love: He inspires us not to score points or put another down but always hopes, always believes the best, and always longs for God’s image in one another to be greater. Speaking the truth is good…speaking it in love is far better. ‘Love…truth…again.’

(Blog with thanks to Revd Alex Aldous, chaplain at Prestfelde Prep School, Shrewsbury)

A ‘new normal’?

I’m an urban spaceman

One of the more intriguing group of musicians of the 1960s went by the wonderfully tongue-in-cheek name of: ‘Bonzo Dog Doo-bah Band’ with its particularly successful single: ‘I’m an urban Spaceman.’ Another of their psychedelic pop/comedy rock singles in the ’80s was entitled ‘Normals.’ Being sucked along what sounds like an hermetically-sealed conveyor belt, ‘normals’ are processed and gawped at by a spoof inspectorate. ‘You think you’re normal?’ Here comes one…he’s got a head on him like a rabbit.’ Chorus: ‘We are normal and we want our freedom.’

Trauma

But what is ‘normal?’ Last week I attended an online course for Trauma and Bereavement where we were informed that trauma occurs when core human beliefs are threatened: 1) That nothing bad is going to happen to us 2) That the world’s generally predictable and 3) That people are essentially decent. The last few months have shaken these first two beliefs and things we counted as dependable – employment, financial security, and uninhibited socialising have seemed certain no longer, and normality itself seems like an endangered species.

In the West, we are largely screened from the unpredictability of much of the world’s experience where people are victims of volatile weather conditions, despotic governments and relentless poverty, but the Corona pandemic has united the world in a shared experience which has left humanity reeling, and, of course, it is the poorer nations and the poorer within our own communities who are left to suffer its after-effects most.

Creatures of habit

We are essentially creatures of habit and we crave for a return to that which we know, a safe retreat to patterns of living with which we are familiar. We in our own community hope that in this vaccine-lacking limbo-land, still we seek to emulate that which we have known and yet mindful of the need to change and adapt as the virus follows its course. Aside the need to adjust technologically and respect social distancing, what are we bringing to our shared existence that can enhance our common experience and raise standards within normality? It would be my hope and prayer that a deeper understanding of what it is to value each individual made in the image of God would emerge and a real comprehension that there is more to life than riches, success and fame.

A new normality might require us to look again at Jesus’ model of real servanthood, ‘washing the feet’ of the unlovely, the rejected and the outcast and tending the wounds of those who are being mentally scarred by lockdown and the effects of the virus.

A new normal of compassion and sensitivity

Being normal and wanting our freedom is perfectly understandable but not desirable if it’s an inappropriate return to mass raves in gathered spaces or unthinking frequenting to known beauty spots – that is the old selfish gene rearing its ugly head. But if it means freedom from: mental anguish, loss of direction and being without purpose in life and we are the agents of this to one another, in the name of an outpouring of sensitivity and compassion then let it be, dear Lord, let it be. But is it new? Only if we’ve never tried it.

(A guest blog, with kind permission, by one of our TISCA chaplains, Revd Alex Aldous)