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)

Is all well?

How often do we say to people, ‘I hope you are well?‘ and then move on without listening to the response – really listening, I mean. Perhaps with so much of concern in our world at present it is perhaps understandable that we don’t really want to hear yet more bad news.

‘When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea-billows roll; whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say: It is well, it is well with my soul!’

Whatever my lot? What a challenge this week – any week – this is. These words are part of a hymn written by Horatio Spafford in 1873. They are no idle words: Spafford knew tragedy. His four year old son died of scarlet fever and then, in 1871, much of his property was destroyed in the Great Fire of Chicago. He worked tirelessly as a lawyer and Presbyterian church elder in the fire’s aftermath to help the 100,000 homeless, and the families of the 300 who died and, two years later, planned a holiday in England and Europe as part of his friend, DL Moody’s evangelistic crusade.

Last minute work complications caused Spafford to delay his departure from the USA but his wife, Anna, and their four daughters (Anna, Margaret Lee, Elizabeth and Tanetta) went on ahead. Tragedy struck again: their ship, SS Ville du Havre, was sunk following a collision with an English iron sailing ship off Newfoundland. It sank in twelve minutes with the loss of 226 lives and only Spafford’s wife out of their family survived by clinging to wreckage. She was rescued and progressed across the Atlantic to Wales where she sent Spafford a brief, tragic, telegram: ‘Saved alone’.

Horatio Spafford set off immediately to be with Anna. The captain of his vessel showed him the spot where the SS Ville du Havre sank and it was after this that he penned the hymn, ‘It is well with my soul‘, quoted above. Later, when he reached Moody, he said: ‘It is well; the will of God be done’. Anna gave birth to three more children but, again, tragedy struck when their only son, Horatio (named after his father and their first son), died aged four years.

Anna and Horatio Spafford’s family tragedies are no doubt much greater than anything we shall face, DV, but can I (can you) echo what Horatio wrote: ‘whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say: It is well, it is well with my soul’? How are you today?

Alone and at peace?

Michael Collins, the ‘forgotten third astronaut’ of the 1969 moon landing, died last week aged 90. I can remember as a 13 year-old boy being allowed to stay up late and watch this historic event on black and white TV. My diary records the mission nightly, with more or less the same comment each day for a week, conveying a little of the suspense of the incredible venture: ‘Apollo 11 still all right‘. After the success of its return, I was then inspired to go out and use my pocket money to buy an Airfix model of Apollo 11 and to persuade my parents to let me have a telescope for my next birthday.

It was, of course, Neil Armstrong who captured the imagination with his ‘one small step’ and, to a lesser extent, Buzz Aldrin, who also caught everyone’s attention back in 1969. Typically then and subsequently, Michael Collins avoided publicity but his role in the Apollo 11 Moon Mission was vital. He was left alone for 21 hours whilst Aldrin and Armstrong were in the lunar module or on the Moon and every time his orbit took him to the dark side of the Moon, he lost contact with mission control at Houston. ‘Not since Adam has any human being known such solitude’ is the reference in the mission log. Collins had the vital task of maintaining a precise orbit so as to ensure the safe return of his fellow astronauts. In addition to being for a while ‘the loneliest man in the universe’, he it was who looked down on the Earth and commented on its beauty and its fragility – a clarion call to environmentalists today.

In his 1974 biography, ‘Carrying the Fire’, Michael Collins wrote: “I know that I would be a liar or a fool if I said that I have the best of the three Apollo 11 seats, but I can say with truth and equanimity that I am perfectly satisfied with the one I have.” In a world where there is so much striving to be ‘the best’, or to be ‘one better’ this is such a telling comment from a man of great integrity and humility. Can we say this, too, of the role we have in life – and be at peace with ourselves and God?

(A slightly expanded version of my weekly ‘thought for the week’ sent to TISCA Heads and Chaplains.)

Check-Mate?

Last week we had Budget Day – the day when we trust that the Chancellor of the Exchequer will lay out plans for us as individuals and as a nation to emerge from this pandemic with a hope and a future amidst the debt and the devastation wrought upon us by COVID-19. For the world, for us all, this past year has been a tribulation: a time when we have felt in exile from our normal state of being and how we relate one with the other.

The prefix ‘ex’ can often imply ‘deliverance’ or ‘fleeing from’ – coming out of where we have been. The Exodus in the Old Testament was a positive freedom from slavery in Egypt and a moving towards a Land of Promise in Canaan. The Exile, however, many generations later spelt a time for the Israelites of being banished from one’s own land, resulting from their repeated transgression against the plans and laws of God, given as a manual for successful living as Kingdom people.

We might wonder whether there are ‘tax exiles’ or promises of ‘getting out of a fix’ when we reflect upon the etymology for ‘Exchequer.’ But not so: the word comes from the Old French ‘eschequier’ meaning a ‘chessboard’ or ‘chequered board,’ and woven into this is also writ the meaning of ‘reckoning.’ We can in our own mind’s eye envisage the board that we have inherited this year where there are fewer players, many others having fallen by the wayside and others embattled and reckoning with ‘check mate’ mentally, emotionally, economically and physically.

It was whilst the Jews were in exile that the prophet Jeremiah proclaimed God’s words: ‘that when the seventy years are completed in Babylon, I will come to you and fulfil my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans that I have for you: plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’

After such a year, we might well be feeling that our own chessboard has been decimated, and there is nothing that any Chancellor can produce out of a hat to right the wrongs, heal the hurts and mend the chequered past that we may have endured. Yet the real hope for those of faith is that as we travel through the desert of Lent and towards the cross of Easter, that God always has the last word – that nothing is too great for him to overcome and redeem. But he first gently whispers the additional words after the above promise: ‘call upon me, pray…seek me and find me when you seek with all your heart.’

We do not know the move of our Great High Chancellor of the Exchequer Above – His moves, like some players on the chessboard, may not be predictable by us mortals – they may move sideways and backwards before moving forward, but our faith assures us that He is the one who holds the plans and it is we who are challenged to trust that He knows our futures – ‘plans for good and not for evil’: those plans, we can be assured, will be for us ‘ex-ce-Lent’ as we call, pray and seek Him.

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

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)

What’s in a number?

Just recently a friend shared with me that on April 29th this year it was the 87th anniversary of the Everton v Manchester City FA Cup final. What was the fascination with this match? It was the first time players wore numbers on their shirts: Everton wore numbers 1-11 and Man City numbers 12-22.

VE Day commemoration

Many of us have also just held socially distanced street parties to commemorate another date – the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe. We celebrated on May 8th 1945 but the Russians on May 9th (as the Soviets were not happy with the Western Allies coming to terms with the German surrender a day early). My Mother recalls being in school at this time and sitting in her Geography lesson while the teacher moved flags around on a large map depicting the position of the various armies as peace approached. My Dad says he can’t remember VE Day – he was working in the shipyards on the Clyde – but it’s possible he was in the pub! (Very sadly for him the last days of the war were blighted by the death of his two cousins: they were helping out at a First Aid station when a German bomb aimed at Coates’ Mills in Paisley missed its intended target and hit their post instead.) For many, such as my wife’s family, the end of the war in Europe was a false dawn: my wife’s grandfather was still a POW of the Japanese and did not get back home until well into the Autumn of 1945 – and only then could they properly rejoice.

School numbers

At my two schools I was allocated numbers: in my Prep School I was number 58 (and apparently the 58th boy to join this new boarding school in Ayrshire) before becoming number 677 at my senior boarding school in Edinburgh (where the numbers were allocated according to your House). Having numbers meant it was easier for parents to mark up clothing and seemed to go well with the fact that you were generally known by your surname – Reid in my case – for much of your school career. (Boys with brothers, such as my best friend, Tom, had attributions after their surname: Tom’s eldest brother was Davidson Major, his second brother was Davidson Minor and Tom was Davidson Tertius.)

More Maths

We are living today in a time of crisis and once again numbers have become all important. (Not that I’m someone who’s any good with numbers: when I first took O Level Maths – yes, I am that old – I just managed a pass with a grade 6. My Maths teacher was furious: ‘Reid, you’re in set 1. You can do better than this – take the exam again next term’. I did so and promptly got a grade 7, a fail.) The Prime Minister and his medical experts are talking about the R number (sounds like an O Level equation – help), countries are being compared according to the number of virus-infected patients and, tragically, the number of those who have died. It’s all like some macabre league table. It is all too easy to become a statistic and for us to feel insignificant and of no account.

Not a number but a name

And so I am reminded of the New Testament story of Zacchaeus. Whatever our faith position, it’s a great encouragement to read of Jesus calling out to a man who, for fear of those whose numbers he’d been fiddling as a tax collector, had effectively been self-isolating. Jesus calls him down from the sycamore tree and addresses him by name – a person whom He had never met before. Moreover, the Bible assures us that not one sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing about it – and that every hair of our heads is numbered. This is the God who goes after the one missing sheep to return it to the fold with the other 99 – and the God who welcomes the prodigal back home with open arms.

So, how ever you are feeling today, let’s remember that we are not just a number. Our ‘football shirts’ have our name on the back – with God’s name as the sponsor on the front! Oh, and by the way, Everton beat Man City 3-1 back in April 1933 at the FA Cup Final (and my Liverpool family are Everton season-ticket holders)! Stay safe and well – and remember that you are named and loved.

With thanks to Alex Aldous, chaplain of Prestfelde School, for the football numbers and idea

Hope in anxious times

Deadly diseases

In the 1970s, a student who would one day go on to become one of the foremost clinical microbiologists was advised against doing research into infectious diseases. There was no point, his professor told him. Thanks to vaccines and antibiotics, deadly epidemic diseases, such as smallpox, plague, typhus and malaria, were finally in retreat. All too sadly today – as we remember SARS in 2002, Ebola in 2014 and recognise that by 2016 HIV and AIDS (which came to worldwide notice in the 1980s) had been responsible for 35 million deaths – we are now faced with a new pandemic, COVID-19.

God’s to blame?

Epidemics breed fear and suspicion that multiply (along with modern scams, hoaxes and false news) more rapidly than any virus. Often when a mysterious illness erupts the first unhelpful reaction is to panic and the second is to identify a culprit. The White House recently called COVID-19 ‘the Chinese virus’ and in the 1980s, when the cause of AIDS was still unknown, the American Press accused Africans of having sex with chimpanzees, whilst Soviet agents located its origins in US research laboratories. Interestingly, in 1665 at the height of the plaque in London, the prime suspect was God! Lacking any other explanation, crowds flocked to churches, praying for deliverance from what they interpreted as divine retribution for their sins.

There is hope

Whilst God is not being labelled the culprit for coronavirus, in some places it is indeed causing people to return to Him, if not in a church building setting then certainly via online services, discussions, prayer times and seminars. A school chaplain I know reported that in normal times the voluntary Sunday chapel services attracted 50-60 pupils, the online version was now attracting over 200 participants. In society today, as was seen in 1918-20 (during the Great Influenza or Spanish ‘flu outbreak which claimed more lives than those killed in the Great War), this crisis has spawned an outpouring of mass volunteerism and self-sacrifice across the globe. There is hope!

I know Who holds the future

The world is indeed a very anxious place but as we consider the plagues and epidemics of the past, we can also acknowledge that much good has emerged from such times. Whether it’s wonderful literature (some of Shakespeare’s plays were written whilst self-isolating from the plague) or ground breaking science (Isaac Newton ‘discovered’ the laws of gravity when temporarily confined to his Lincolnshire cottage from disease-ridden Cambridge), we can still point to the One who holds our future and brings Hope to the world at all times, and especially in those when tragedy, fear and death are rife. As a well-known Christian chorus puts it, ‘I know who holds the future, and He’ll guide me with His hand. With God things don’t just happen, everything by Him is planned. So as I face tomorrow, with its problems large and small, I’ll trust the God of miracles, give to Him my all.’ (Eugene Clark)

(With thanks to History Today magazine, April 2020, for historical examples.)