Yesterday was a big day. We remembered the 11th hour, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918. I twas the first time we were without the 3 surviving servicemen from WW1. I took the service in Prison and it  was attended by approximately 150 Staff and Officers….. very moving. As you can appreciate, as an ex-serviceman, and ex-policeman who is trying to return to the RAF as a Chaplain, it was a big day for me…. I was in a solemn mood pretty much all day and sighed a lot throughout the day and evening.

In the afternoon, Sue and I went to the cinema. I needed something to cheer me up, so we decided to see ‘Up’. It didn’t do the job, in fact I was even more solemn than before. The film is about a kid who has a hero and a wish.As he grows up he marries and spends an amazing time with his wife and the film shows it very powerfully – especially when she dies and he maintains his memories with a warmth that is very moving. He has a book, a book which he has had from childhood and it contains items from his - a scrapbook and he looks at it fondly but he always stops when he gets to the page headed with ‘Things I want to do’ (not the exact words but close enough).

Eventually, he decides to try and fulfill his dream and visit a place that was his dream. A place on top of a plateaux where his house would be, overlooking a waterfall and beautiful countryside in South America. There are other things which make up this film and it is very, very good. It just wasn’t the right day for me to see it.

What struck me the thought ‘I am now 47, I have lived and worked with some amazing people in extreme situations, but will I regret things that I could have and should have done… but didn’t? When I was a kid, there was a series called ‘World at War’. It was a documentary and is repeated on various channels sometimes. An amazing, definitive series about the horrors of war and it’s futility. As the credits role at the end, it shows a series of faces as photographs and the move from one to the other as if the top one is burned, revealing the next gradually. There has always been one face which troubled me. A face of a small child, probably about 3 years or 4 and he has an amazing, innocent face that oozes trust and yet has sadness at the same time. It has been with me since the 1960’s and 70’s when the series was shown.

Why has it had such an impact on me? Well, I get really troubled by the whole idea of innocence being shattered and the thoughts that must have gone through his confused mind, as he was possibly led to a gas chamber. The film’ Boy is striped pyjamas’ had the same thing with me. That film and yesterdays  ‘Up’ left me distraught at the what might have been, did he survive (doubt it) and if he did, what did he make of life after witnessing whatever he did. The whole idea of trust, innocence, sadness and horror psychologically horrifies me as to what could have been going through his mind.

I then think back very recently… not being able to get into the RAF again. I remember my dad and how dissapointed he must have been when he couldn’t pass his driving test when he was in his 50’s. He had driven in WW2 whilst in the army, left after the war and had never driven since. The freedom that he had missed out on, the pressure he must have felt as we hoped amd hoped he would pass after a couple of failures. It would have mean’t so much to him…

The film left the audience on an upper though. The kid in the film gave him a new lease of life and he was able to enjoy life helping someone achieve dreams. That’s something even more powerful and encouraging. No more navel-gazing and grabbing life by the scruff of the neck. Why do I feel as if nothing has been achieved? I have done a lot, not managed some others, but I still shoud be thankful regardless…..

Remebrance Sunday etc i about people who felt they had to do something and many, many didn’t see the result but they still did it…. for us all and not for themselves alone…..

I make no apologies for copying this for others to read. The writer is and was one of the most inspirational lecturers I had during my ministry/theological training. The time I spent in Jerusalem was so special, I cannot ever stop pulling on so many experiences whilst I was there and trying to apply what we had spoken about. Below is an homily, I wish I had written something of this calibre….. thanks Dwight

A Remembrance Day Homily

On 11 November, 1918, the guns fell silent on what had been the bloodiest war in human history. From November 1919 until today the moment that the guns stopped, on the 11th hour, has been the moment for everyone to stop and remember the cost in human lives, and to vow, ‘Never again!’ The horrors experienced led those who had experienced it to hope that by remembering the cost, it would have been ‘a war to end all wars’.

Some 16 million people died, and another 21 million were wounded, in that war—37 million people. In the destruction, nearly 7 million civilians were killed. (Information on casualties for WWI and WWII is taken from http://en.wikipedia.org)
The remembering did not have its desired effect then, as perhaps even now. Only thirty years later the Second World War began. No one knows just how many died—estimates vary between 50 and 78 million, perhaps up to 52 million of them civilians.

[How can we fathom such numbers of dead? We have become numbed to the deaths of others. An American study recently reported that ‘the average child will watch 8,000 murders on TV before finishing elementary school. By age eighteen, the average American has seen 200,000 acts of violence on TV, including 40,000 murders.’ British viewing figures may be lower, but Britain is the gaming capital of the world, and games such as Grand Theft Auto and Modern Warfare probably make the American number of simulated deaths witnessed pale into insignificance beside the more exciting prospect of killing virtual people in true Rambo fashion.]

How can we gain perspective on how many real people died? Imagine the entire population of the UK being wiped out over the period of six years.
The Cost

It is worth considering why those who lived through The Great War hoped it would be the last of all wars. From the British perspective, the Battle of the Somme provides the key. The battle lasted from 1 July to 18 November, 1916. 58,000 British troops were killed or injured on the first day alone—the equivalent to a full complement of Manchester United supporters at Old Trafford. When the offensive was called off after 4½ months and a net gain of 8 miles of ground, there had been 420,000 British, 200,000 French, and an estimated 500,000 German casualties—1,120,000 dead and wounded.

The longest battle of that war was the Battle of Verdun, which started on 21 February, 1916, and ended 18 December. The battle began with a German bombardment along 8 miles of the French lines from 1,400 guns pouring out 100,000 shells each hour. French casualties during the battle were estimated at 550,000 with German losses set at 434,000. Half were fatalities. The front line did not move, but it was called a French victory.

The dead in just these two battles is equivalent to the population of Greater Manchester.

The Verdun Ossuary

In the summer of 1978, laid up for over a month with a kidney infection, I set about reading a five-volume history of the Great War that I had bought in 1967 for the great sum of $3.50. The first four volumes were published by 1917, the last within weeks of the end of the war. The tale of these two battles filled half of Volume Two, and the Battle of Verdun has long stood out in my memory, both for its length, and for the interminable agonising tedium of the report of death and mayhem. So it was that when my wife and I decided to visit the battleground in 2001 it was the fulfilment of a long-standing desire to see the setting, and to try to grasp something of what happened. Most of the battle-site is wooded now; the trenches are visible in only a few places. Small cemeteries sprinkle the area. But the Ossuary is the heart of the memorial. A long, low building (about 500 meters long) with a tower in the middle, stretching some 40 metres skyward like a missile, contains the remains of 130,000 unknown French and German soldiers.

Inside the building there are 18 alcoves, each containing a pair of tombs. On the wall above each tomb there is an inscription showing the area of the battlefield from which the bodies or bones were recovered. Each tomb covers an 18 cubic metre vault. There are two additional vaults at each end of the building, each 150 cubic meters, containing the remains from areas of such carnage that the numbers of bodies could not be housed in the tombs. 948 cubic metres of space—1,139 square yards—contain the unidentified fallen. The names of the missing are inscribed on the walls. The Ossuary is surrounded by a cemetery which contains the graves of 15,000 named French dead.

I shall not forget entering the Ossuary building. I did not expect the visit to be more than another stop on my educational pilgrimage. But, I was immediately struck by a deep sense of hallowedness. It was as quiet as a church, which was to be expected; but I was overwhelmed by a sense of awe and of sorrow. There is a Christian altar there, and I prayed.

My 1978 reading had driven into me the senselessness of that war, of the horrible sacrifice of lives to so little purpose, which counted for nothing within a generation of the killing. In the presence of the dead, I could only weep; but it was beyond my tears.

I have stood in churches in remote villages of Germany, and cenotaphs in remote villages of Scotland, and read the long lists of the dead in each. The prime of a generation, reaching into every village and hamlet, was lost.

Who can not have been moved, recently, by seeing and hearing Harry Patch, the last British veteran of that war who died just this past Winter, speaking out of his experience at last, tell us that war is a waste of young lives. And must be the last resort of politicians.

We remember

Now, we pause to remember these fallen while young men—and now, women—are dying in two wars. And to remember the suffering peoples of these countries.

Since 2003, 4677 Coalition soldiers have died in Iraq; 179 of them British. Documented Iraq civilian deaths in the same period are between 93,793 and 102,330.

Since 2001, 1506 Coalition soldiers have died in Afghanistan; 229 of them British. 11,152 Afghan troops have died; 7,589 Afghanistan deaths are documented. Another 53,435 have been injured.

This, of course, is in response to the attack on the US on 11 September 2001, where 2,993 people died, including the hijackers of the airplanes.

Apology necessary

I do not apologise for this litany of numbers. If we are going to remember the purpose of this day, we need to grasp the enormity of the human cost of war. And, we need to grasp the futility of waging war to bring about peace. Every war sows the seeds of the next.

I must, nevertheless, apologise for the Euro/North Americo-centric nature of this litany. There is no catalogue of the wars that simmer out of our sight because our news moguls do not deem them important enough to be reported (because we want to know who is the winner on the latest ‘Idol’ programme); where the criterion of ‘news’ is ‘was there a British national involved; was there an American involved?’ So it is that the sad death of one Brit in a bar in Texas is granted equal time to the slaughter of 13 American soldiers by one of their own. What of the fallen of the Congo? Of Sudan? Of Columbia?

What are we sowing? Why do we not remember?

The Vision of Peace: Isaiah and Revelation

We are gathered in Christian worship. This is not a political gathering; we pay tribute to those who have given their lives in service to their countries, for their self-sacrifice. But, we do so under the hearing of the gospel of Jesus Christ; and this demands that we try to hear the Word of the Lord in the midst of our days.

The readings from Isaiah (2:2-4) and Revelation (21:1-5) present together a vitally important picture of God’s purposes for humanity, locked into its culture of violence and strife.

The Peaceable Kingdom

Isaiah presents a beautiful picture of what has been called ‘the peaceable kingdom’, looking forward to the day when wars cease forever. It is a remarkable vision for any time; it stands as a stark rebuke to humanity that such a picture of beauty might still be termed a fantasy after the passing of 2,500 years.

These words were not spoken by someone with reason for optimism. To the contrary, the prophet-poet can, perhaps, best be compared to a current resident of East Jerusalem, watching his land be taken first by the ruling class of his own people, then by the marauding soldiers of a great superpower. Who can be an optimist when surrounded by walls and guns? When I read this, I think of my Christian brothers and sisters in Jerusalem.

Yet, those brothers and sisters today look to the same vision. Beyond the present oppression and bloodshed, and out of that very bleakness, the Lord God promises to establish his kingdom of peace. In the centre of strife will be placed a school for teaching God’s ways: he will not send experts to train armies and police, but will teach the settling of disputes, the cultivating of gardens.

Everything made new

The vision of John the Seer is no less sweeping in its grandeur. He sees the time when this present order, based on violence and hatred, will be wholly replaced by an order, a new creation, with God in the midst. On this earth, there is no death, no mourning. Only peace.

It is difficult to get such a picture in our minds; we can only catch a glimpse by analogy to things we know—thus the strangeness of some of the pictures of Revelation. What we need to grasp, if only we can just a little, is that which is common to both these texts: God’s purposes in creation have always been the peaceable kingdom. From the garden in Eden to the city of trees in Revelation, his purpose has been the life of peace for all of creation. His action in Christ Jesus is consistent with this grand purpose. Jesus did not die merely that some of us might find forgiveness of our sins and so look forward to a life of bliss one day. The life and death of Christ marks the beginning of the new creation. He lives for the ‘healing of the nations’ (Rev 22:2); ‘no longer will there be any curse’.

Life out of death; peace out of violence

It is no accident that both these visions of peace flow from tales of violence. Modern sceptics read the bloodshed of Revelation and interpret it as a call to violence and bloodshed. Sadly, for too long too many Christians have done the same. The visions of Revelation are not a timetable to Armageddon to be counted down with relish; those who look forward to such a battle worship a parody of the truth. The realistic vision of both Isaiah and Revelation is that human violence is so deep-seated, and human power so antagonistic to the vision of peace, and knows only violence as a solution (from the yobo on the street corner with his knife, to the war master in the incident room with his unmanned drones, violence is the primary tool), that the course of human history can only end in Armageddon.

The Present Reality

We find ourselves, in our present reality, living the Gospel reading from Matthew 24. Wars multiply; nations rise against nations, tribes against tribes. But this is not Armageddon. It is human reality. It is the birth-pains of the new creation. The human order grinds inexorably to a violent end.

But the Christian vision in the midst of this is, ‘the good news of the kingdom of God will be proclaimed throughout the world, as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come’ (Matt 24:14). Not long ago I was told of some people who read this verse as condition for Jesus’ return, and so hope to hasten this day by flying to every country of the world to stop off in the airport and preach a sermon, so ‘the end’ will kick in—as though this word were a determinism, a box to be ticked along the way.

What is offered here, however, is an alternate ending to the story—an ‘end’, a purpose, which comes through witness to the peace of God in the here and now; in which the people of Jesus Christ go out to teach gardening and conflict-resolution, not waiting for all the nations to come to the new Jerusalem.

It is a hopeless vision!

But, it once came near to reality. In the last years of the 3rd C AD the Roman Empire had become so permeated by Christians that emperors began to fear they could not wage war any longer—Christians from one part of the empire would not fight against Christians in another part of the empire.

In the year AD 286, this reached a vivid climax; a legion of soldiers in Egypt, consisting of over six thousand six hundred men, consisted wholly of Christians. The Theban Legion was made up of what are now called Christian Copts. This legion was commanded to go to Gaul (modern France, as known by all Asterix readers). There they were commanded to wipe out the Christian barbarians. The Thebans refused. The emperor commanded their execution for this insubordination. In groups of 600 they were sliced down, to give opportunity to the rest to recant. Not a single soldier recanted. All died rather than kill fellow Christians.

The beloved patron saint of England, St George, was also martyred in this period for refusing to assist in persecution of fellow Christians.

No empire can long survive such behaviour. Constantine realised this some 30 years later, when he took the symbol of Christianity as his banner in the battle that secured his rule. He could only maintain authority by subverting the symbol of the peaceful kingdom.

[The unwillingness of Christians who were loyal Roman citizens to fight against or kill fellow Christians of other nationalities is not unlike that of Muslims today—this week’s killings at Fort Hood in Texas. There is a notable difference, however, that the early Christians preferred to die to taking the lives of others…]

What do we remember

In our worship, we remember the cost of war, whether or not that war is fought for a just cause.

We regard the shedding of the blood of the young, and of the innocent, as the ever present sign of this present order, and we pray for the peaceable kingdom.

We honour those who have made the supreme sacrifice; we grieve for those who appear under the heading ‘collateral damage’.

But we live to bear witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ—the healing of the nations.

It took me 4 days to read this book. A book about Ivan as he serves a 10 years sentence for being a spy in a Russian gulag. It is here where the theme of authoritative oppression is an everyday fact as the inmates try to survive in a cruel, spiteful, violent environment.

The prisoners are located in a camp near to a construction site, where they work in extremely low temperatures. So cold in fact that the mortar freezes in the time that it takes to leave the barrow and placed on the brick – instantly almost. Inbetween sleeping and labour, the prisoners try to hang on to their humanity

Here we see that prisoners have little or no clothing capable of dealing with the –40F. What can be ‘found’ is gathered, modified and re-used, maybe even exchanged for something else. The prisoners existed in a de-humanizing regime, numbers painted on coats for easy identification, over-worked and punished if the targets set were not met. It is in such an environment that binds people together. Solzhenitsyn shows that a surprising loyalty could exist among the work gang members, with Shukhov (the person who we follow for a day) teaming up with other prisoners to steal felt and extra bowls of soup; even the squad leader defies the authorities by tar papering over the windows at their work site. Indeed, only through such solidarity can the prisoners do anything more than survive from day to day. It is this loyalty and solidarity that is expressed despite it being a place of the fittest surviving.

Tyurin, the deputy foreman of gang 104 is kind but strict and the squad grows to like him more as the book goes on. Tyurin is liked because he understands the prisoners and he tells them a lot and does a lot to help them. He shares stories with them and the prisoners feel bad for his situation because his wife left him before he went into the camp. Shukhov is one of the hardest workers in the squad and is generally well respected. Rations at the camp are scant, but for Shukhov they are one of the few things to live for. He conserves the food that he receives and is always watchful for any item that he can hide and trade for food at a later date.

This an insight into desperation and survival in extreme circumstances, a situation where a sentence can be increased at the whim of another. It is a story of survival, a story of resourcefulness, a story of a light at the end of a tunnel which is out of reach and quite often unobtainable… inmates didn’t leave. This is an excellent book written by a person who spent 1945 – 1953 in a gulag for a derogatory remark about Joseph Stalin, the ‘whiskered one’. The labour camp described in the book was home to Solzhenitsyn for a while as he served his term, located in Karaganda in northern Kazakhstan. An excellent book.

“Does God call the equipped or equip the called?” someone asked. Daft question! God does both. The Church is caled to be culturally informed, culturally engaged, in order to be counter cultural; so it must be Gospel informed and Gospel engaged in order to be counter cultural. Because our counter-cultural lives are to be rooted in the reality of the Living Christ, the transformative power of a Gospel of reconciliation, peace and hope.

“Does God call the equipped or equip the called?” someone asked. Daft question! God does both. The Church is caled to be culturally informed, culturally engaged, in order to be counter cultural; so it must be Gospel informed and Gospel engaged in order to be counter cultural. Because our counter-cultural lives are to be rooted in the reality of the Living Christ, the transformative power of a Gospel of reconciliation, peace and hope.

Here is a rare example of criminals being given a chance to make something of life afterwards. An excellent opportunity in all our cities.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/food_and_drink/article6894119.ece

I have used this prayer – excellent and real!!

http://holdthisspace.org.au/prison-chaplains-workshop/

This is a holy space and a sacred time.
Not because god is here in any special way –
God is no different in this place
to anywhere else –
but because we are here in a special way.

In this space and time
all of who we are
is welcome.

So bring the broken, darkest parts of you.
The parts which strive to be beautiful
and those which are nothing but flawed.

Put them next to mine.

As together,
in this holy space and sacred time,
we let them be shaped
by God.

Welcome to worship.

What is it that we want from life? Over the years, I have often worked towards attaining something. Very rarely has that something been anything other than material things… money for gifts, items that were for the house, a car that either needed repairing or replacing and things like that.

I am now 47 years of age. Been married for 26 of those years and have two excellent sons. We have a house, a car, a dog and yet I am still on the search for something else in life. Sue and I both gave up very good jobs to pursue our calling into Christian Ministry. Prior to that, we had been baptized together in a church that had prayed for me for 20 years before coming to faith. We sold up, and moved to pastures new, studied, graduated and moved into our ministerial roles… Sue in a church, I in Prison Chaplaincy. You’d think that a great deal of life had been placed under our belts. We moved house in 2004, and again in 2006. The year is now 2009, and have we found anything remotely like what we thought we were looking for? Probably not.

We have seen many glimpses of something, that something that has reminded and nudged us leaving us with a smile of joy and contentment. We have also seen frustration (I in particular) at the clash of expectation with reality. What is it that I want from life?

I have some options which are actually our options (that’s how it works in marriage and having kids). My questions amongst many at the moment is, who’s options are they really? What is the motivation behind them and driving them? I spoke last week at our Bramley church, and mentioned a well-remembered phrase. ‘You have permission to fail’. I have quoted it often, I have presented it to people in a hope that they would trust it and accept it as a consequence of trying something. Do I really believe it, do I really accept what I ask others to take on?

Last week, I was given some news. It wasn’t the kind of news that I welcome, it was news that I hadn’t been accepted for something that I really thought had my name all over it. As an adult, this is the first time I have felt as if I have failed. What am I to do with that failure? What is it that I want from life? I don’t know the answer, there may well be many answers to that question depending on my mood and what day of the week it is. What I do know though is this, I am on a journey that has been and will continue to be unpredictable. There was a time when that would never be allowed to happen, but there are things that are needed to be given up. The Apostle Paul would use the phrase ‘to die’ or ‘put to death’. That gives me some peace during turbulent times as do many people in unexpected places, like amongst the prisoners and officers that I see and talk with. Many of them would call themselves ‘Christian’ in a very nominal way, but I have seen and received so much from them in this last week. Grace is at work…….

Yes folks, the letter arrived with a decision I didn’t want. I have not managed to get into the RAF as a Commissioned Officer to be a Chaplain. Having said that, I have been invited to attend again, pending the decision regarding me being diagnosed with the earliest stages of Glaucoma. I have been given eye-drops and a date for a further examination in November to see if they do the trick. Apparently it can be treated and eased, but not cured. The drops are to prevent a build up of pressure in the eye, therefore no pressure points and as a consequence no blind spots will occur. I was told by the eye specialist that he had a choice to ignore or prevent….. he chose to prevent thankfully. So my immediate family can now get free eye-checks, so that is something positive I suppose.

I don’t what to think re the RAF decision at the moment…. I have been offered 2 days in January at RAF Odiham as additional prep for the OASC, but as I said earlier, that is all dependant on the eye situation. Ho Hum!! Not a happy hector as a result.

This Sunday was a much needed one for me. I did the two services in Prison and let them know what the situation is. The prisoners genuinely care, and were excellent, especially after the service. They minister to the Ministers in times like these. The evening was spent at our church which was coming to the end of a week-end anniversary celebration of 78 years existence. A good friend was our speaker, and I probably heard the best sermon in a long while. Philippians 3 was a much needed text for me, as is the whole of Philippians – it helps me to keep grounded and humble.

I am at home, after taking the day off in return for being in prison yesterday, so that leaves me with just tomorrow in prison and a meeting on Thursday (if it happens).

Below is a link to a Wikipedia article regarding what I went through in relation to Officer selection for the RAF. It’s very detailed, in fact very accurate as to how the 4 days were broken down. If you fancy, go for it……

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Officer_and_Aircrew_Selection_Centre