BNP members list - clerical error

In the week a BNP membership list leaks onto the internet with the names of three ministers on it, (none of them Church of England, one allegedly in error) thoughts inevitably turn to Father Ted, and the day an unfortunate accident with a lampshade and some dirt on the window made everyone think he was a racist and revealed a few BNP sympathies, even on Craggy Island:

Uproot, upsize your world

After yesterday’s post about the International Eating Disorders Centre, Aylesbury, someone asked whether I think you have to have faith to make progress there. Of course people of all faiths and none use the Centre effectively, but some kind of faith about yourself has to grow, I suppose, for treatment to work. And if staff have faith that takes the form of unconditional acceptance, Grace, all sorts of things begin to seem possible.
I’ve now managed to capture the script of Suz Hemming’s dance on Tuesday. She’s one of the most inspiring people I’ve met. She thinks kinetically, and is recovering from an eating/exercise disorder. They are a message of hope for anyone who’s gotten into the habit of boxing themselves up in a place that’s to small to sustain real life:

This world is so unfathomable in its magnitude 

It's so chaotically huge, 

I'm a large person, a MASSIVE person, 

And I DON'T mean my body 

Even though it FEELS huge, 

Even now,

But my mind; your mind; the mind itself,
is infinite beyond of all comprehension,

Interconnected pathways, brim to overflowing 

With masses of meticulously defined
thoughts, feelings and notions, 

Big ideas, obese with possibilities, 

FAT with opportunities

Measure the world in women's clothing sizes
and it's in the outsize collection, 

It's the 36GG bra, the big granny knickers,

It's a colossal giant of a place to inhabit

Why make your home within it so insignificantly small? 

Why dull the mammoth scale of colours,
sounds and tastes careering through your body?

To be a skeleton of the life you knew,

on a catwalk so big
it could consume what's left of you
The Size ZERO body is a label for 

ZERO creativity, ZERO Passion,
ZERO spontaneity, ZERO Fulfilment; 

ZERO LIFE

Still I've tried to edit my rainbow,

Safe black and white
mixed with an off peach pallor skin, 

Made my world as big and unexciting
as a mini rice cake, 

I've had bones bruise from lying down,
felt cold in a 25°c room, 

Passed out on a treadmill,

(needless to say I was running in completely the wrong direction) 

Staring at a plate of food in tears, 

Having food eat me rather me eat it, 

I've fallen when I go to stand,
and been out of control 

by the very measures I took to contain and mediate my life, 

I've eaten, and I've starved, 

I've lived and then I've pretended to live,

But now I've chosen to up roots, 

and move into my body
like a new home on moving day, 

I'll buy some new furniture for my mind, 

And throw out the old décor I don't need anymore, 

It'll take a while I know ... to feel like I'm at home,

And I'll miss my old house,
and the neighbours that came with it, 

All skinny and all just as sick as me,
But this house is warmer and brighter
throughout the year, 

And has a big comfy bed to sleep in,
because sleeping is no longer a sin, 

And an average size kitchen
where cupboards are allowed to have food, 

And a lounge big enough to throw a party in,

now I've gotten back a social life 

and the energy to dance again,

And though there will always be a part of me 

That holds that kind of nostalgic idealism
for that house in which I used to live,

That recalls why I moved there in the first place, 

And stayed there as long as I did 

I don't wish to sell up and move back in, 

I don't wish to look upon
that tiny broken down shell again, 

Sit within its small cold rooms alone

Because this house can be as big
as it needs to be to house the person inside it,

BIG really IS beautiful
It's a BIG, GIGANTIC, HUGE, VAST,
IMMEASURABLE world out there 

And it's spectacular, 

It's Beautiful 

And I know if I try, I can be beautiful too

Just give me time, 

And I know I can recover my body, 

Make Recovery my home,

And so can you 

Recovery IS possible, 

NEVER GIVE UP HOPE,

Eating disorders — hungry for Love

A wonderful Tuesday in Aylesbury, at The International Eating Disorders Centre with Andrew Blyth, the local Vicar. Dr James Clarke was a local GP, who has led the project over many years, taking a fresh approach (for the UK) to Anorexia, Bulimia, and overeating. In the early days he took his inspiration from Isaiah 58 with its stirring call to “Loose the fetters of injustice, swap every yoke, set free those who are bound!”

If the problem is people not eating, common sense says all you do is make them eat and they’re sorted. Right? Wrong. Why are people’s eating patterns cursing them? How is that impacted by the personal context? If the eating disorder is basically a symptom as well as cause there’s no more point trying to manage it behaviourally, manipulating symptoms, than there would be treating a cold by taping up your nose. Of course anorectics need to eat more, but they won’t do it until they want to do it, and they won’t want to do it until they believe they’re worth it. The approach here is holistic and progressive, and based on people working together intensively with a range of professionals — psychologists, art therapists, dietitians, spiritual and community counsellors, in an an integrated programme which tries to create a safe space within which people can painfully but truthfully engage with what’s driving their thing in the first place.

Much of the morning was spent with a group of people struggling with Anorexia. There was a strong feeling in the room that this is often portrayed as being all about gormless teenage girls wanting to be supermodels (the “size zero debate”). Nobody in the room fitted this stereotype. Anorexia affects men, too. Indeed anorexia often afflicts caring mature people who set a high standard. There’s a fine line between what athletes and dancers put themselves through in training (scarily impressive) and the rigours of anorexia (life threatening), with associated highs, lows, and hardships along the way. And, of course, eating disorders include a variety of conditions, including much more prevalent overeating, said to affect about one in four of the population at any time.

Two people at the centre spoke of it as a place they’d found unconditional love, and that was what stoked up their courage to press on and beat their disorder, so that world class professional help actually had something to go on. Like all compulsive behaviour there is an addictive dimension that has to be acknowledged and lived through meal by meal for what it is.

There was amazing, down to earth honesty all round, especially in those having a bad day. There’s so much pretending and low grade social hypocrisy around our lives — a whole system that builds up around the compulsion and makes it seem unbeatable. This is often fuelled by the unreflective, collusive, evasive and gormless comments from freinds and family. It takes incredible courage to step out of all that, and face the problem down for where it is and what it is.

I found the IEDC a really positive place to be. Afterwards there was a reception at the Royal Buckinghamshire Hospital (the first civilian hospital building designed to the specifications of former Buckinghamshire resident Florence Nightingale). There Suz Hemming, a gifted dancer, took us through her story in dance. I’ll post her poem tomorrow, when I’ve got it scanned, but here are her words about how Art therapy had helped her, as someone who thinks kinetically and was trapped in an exercise and undereating compulsion:

Until I had put some distance between my feelings about my body, about myself, and my life, I carried too much weight mentally. Once I began to unpack that weight, I had a way of eopneing up to the people around me. I could develop conversations in therapy from something I had drawn or written in a “safe” way. I could fine space inside of myself to begin exploring the issues I’d poured out onto paper, a bit at a time, page by page, without trying to take on the big issue as a whole.

My artwork kept me still during the early stages of my recovery when I was told I wasn’t allowed to exercise. It trasfixed me and kept me sane during the time when my safety net of obsessive over-exercise was taken from me, allowing me to begin weight restoration. I’d draw and paint after meals instead of exercising. I’d get angry with the paper, cry at it, I’d try to draw through the panic attacks, I’d keep pressing deeper through the feelings, because the stronger the fear became, the stronger my artwork became. The stronger my voice became.

Oh, and it does take time. This is no fluffy bunny before and after story. The struggle goes on, but now Suz has got a reason to keep going, and the trends are good. I am immensely proud that this extraordinary place should have grown from a network of Christians in the town, Roger Axtell of Anorexia Bulimia Care UK, Dr James Clarke, and be surrounded by the love and prayers of a network in various churches, including Holy Trinity Walton, a growing and engaged Evangelical parish where it has especially close links. Its strapline is “Passion for Life.” They certainly need that here — clinical excellence goes with personal engagement — but the key is the fountainhead of all Christianity, unconditional love.

Medieval wailing and gnashing of teeth

What did medieval people make of their church experience? Much the same as we do, it seems, from yawns, to a holy disconnected stare, to the gritting of teeth! These utterly wonderful late medieval carvings are to be found hidden away in what’s now the vestry of St Faith’s Church Newton Longville. They seem to have been supporters hidden under the floor of a gallery structure, perhaps a medieval guild chapel, but now exposed to public view.


I was in St Faith’s, to licence Canon John Saunders last night. John brings us a missionary and pastoral heart, big experience, and great hope. Newton Longville itself is a very positive and engaged village, where people seem to get on, everybody is somebody, and there’s a clear sense of mission and purpose. It was good to feel all this last night... no call for all the wailing and gnashing of teeth they went in for round here 500 years ago.

Leadership Secrets of Herbie Hancock

Saturday night was the hottest jazz ticket of the year, Herbie Hancock’s Sextet at the London jazz Festival. This man played with Miles Davis. Herbie rides again! This man is legend: and he packed the stage with some of the greatest musicians in the world. If you were dong a fantasy football best sextet ever, these guys would be in it — Terence Blanchard, James Genus, Lionel Loueke, and Kendrick Scott. No Sax, but a Swiss Harmonica man called Gregoire Maret. And this was not fantasy, but happening feet away from us, with an ease and grace that blew me away.

The programme was a cool mix of barnstorming stuff from the Head Hunters era and cool exploratory playing — HH’s freshness, vitality and skill just seems to grow all the time. At the end people went wild, and we got an encore which consisted of HH, playing one of those keyboard guitar things straight off the set of a 70’s cop show, going round the band, dialoguing with each of them, showin’ em up, in all humility, as five of the greatst musicians in the world.

I’m greatly struck by the parallels between jazz, ministry and creative leadership. This is how you integrate humility and passion. I was helping last night on a residential with our diocesan Developing Servant Leaders Programme, workshopping with some of our curates where our docesan strategy is and could be going (another really motivational evening with some great colleagues). One thing we did together was just observe a clip from the final encore, how each voice was different, how the structure and discipline of being together set people free to be themselves, how Herbie led never dominated, and, above all, the grace and ease of the handovers, the little gestures of affirmation that say so much about what’s really going on.

I do believe that if we could do Church Leadership this way, the Lord himself would be laughing and swaying with the rest of us and the joy would be infectious, and the singing would never be done.

Hazlemere: Remembering, Learning

Remembrance this year helping with a village war memorial service in Stewkley, orgainsed deftly by the very lively village Royal British Legion, ably led by Dusty Saunders. On the day itself, I was with children at Hazlemere CE Combined School, where years 5 and 6 put on a remarkable Remembrance community service, with guests including local councillors and members of the RAF, as well as RBL.

What really shone through was the depth of thinking and reflection behind the poems, songs and presentation. Children had written their own wartime “letters home”, and I had to check afterwards they hadn’t copied from originals! As well as a great all-age community event, the whole morning showed me the great value of “whole school” working. I know it demands amazing amounts of hard work and co-ordination from staff, but I could see how memorable and moving this all was for the pupils. Congratulations to Nick Waldron (Head) and especially Andrew Sykes and colleagues.

In passing, I also noticed some really engaging story boxes in year 4 (like storyboards but 3D). I was a numeracy governor at the time the numeracy hour came in, and I noticed how consistent working with number lines is producing a whole new quality of work in Maths, in this instance in year 4 (with Mr Rademacher). In the old days people just thought if you were good at notation you understood Maths (why? It’s like saying if you’re good at Crosswords you understand literature). Using number lines over extended periods really builds childrens’ feeling for, and understanding of number in itself. Here’s a subtraction exercise — I’ve blanked the name, but look at the way she’s really getting engaged with numbers, breaking them down, playing with the maths of it, and enjoying herself. This would never have happened in the bad old days, when maths was simply treated as voodoo for clever kids.

I may have disappeared down a slightly anoraky hole! But it’s wonderful to see children enjoying learning together in a great school with their friends. Hazlemere’s a real gem. It isn’t a small school, but somehow it feels like one when you’re there. It’s something about the good relationships, and the ways people treat each other.

As with other Church of England schools in the Thames Valley, it is our privilege to be trusted by many Muslim parents here with their children’s schooling. They don’t, of course, expect technical Quranic learning, just a broad and balanced RE syllabus that builds understanding of all religions. One Muslim parent told me how they appreciated their children to be somewhere God’s name was loved and honoured, so that their Muslim faith is simply respected, shared and nurtured as a way of life, rather than patronised or treated as an exotic hobby.

I asked, in Guardianspeak, “had they ever felt their children were being indoctrinated, narrowed or ghettoised by the experience of being in a faith school?” The parent just fell about laughing.

Faith speaks to Faith. That’s how you build understanding. That’s how schools help build community; and that’s where real hope lies. My Muslim parent did not want compulsory secularism shoved down their child’s throat as the only way, by people who won’t take responsiblity for doing this, and are sniggering at you behind their hands for believing anything more substantial than their own vapid secularism. It was quite an impassioned encounter, and made me realise how different things look in most of this country’s Church schools to how they are often portrayed by Metropolitan élite journalists, projecting their own fears and fantasies from the London experience...

War to end War?

The 90th anniversary of the Armistice has triggered interesting historical reflection about the First World War. Perhaps the time is coming when our perceptions of it can become more historical. Military Historians are probing the inadequacies of what you might call the Blackadder view. Nowadays they talk about a “learning curve” on the Western Front, which the British army negotiated painfully and sometimes haltingly, but neverthless successfully.

Confronted with the horror of the war, of course people said “never again” and talked of it as a war to end war. Given the way in which Germany collapsed, and the way things were left after Versailles, we can easily see now that the peace terms contained the seeds of the next war; so the real learning curve is about exit strategies and how you leave things. The Clemenceau desire for punishment and revenge, however understandable, has to be curbed, in a way it wasn’t in 1919.

I wonder wehther a generation raised on computer games will have a greater or a lesser capacity to feel for the human dimension of war? We are more squeamish than our great grandparents, but there’s a danger everything becomes a computer game for us. With the Big Snit in mind, I was interested to come across a Bigger Snit, pictured by Vincent Chai at the University of Hertfordshire — a dead cert war to end wars, cobbled together from 21st century fears, fantasies and images:

Evangelism: Spam versus Living it

A wonderful post, required reading for all Christians, by Joe the Peacock, on How to actually talk to Atheists. Major h/t to David Keen. From his side of the counter, Joe offers some pointers as to why most “Evangelism” is so futile. He is not taking the Mickey. He is sharing honest experience, and telling the truth:

Using the traditional, human-spam model of witnessing, you use interruption-marketing techniques to spread the word about your faith. Because you are Christian, and because you are employing techniques that are unwelcome and unwanted, you communicate the following through your actions:

• Christians would rather be correct than listen to differing opinion.
• Christians do not respect the personal space (mentally and physically) of non-believers.
• Christians feel they are superior to non-believers because they have salvation.
• Christians would rather rely on faith as evidence than rely on fact.

Alternatively?

Even if the conversation never ensues, it's a universal truth that action speaks louder than words. People DO take notice of those who act in accordance with a respect and love based lifestyle. They feel good when they see a person helping another person - and in fact, it makes them want to help out themselves. One need only look at the total figures of collected donations for the victims of Hurricane Katrina and the World Trade Center attacks to see this in action. Deed follows deed. Tell a person what to do, and you may get them to do it... Make them want to do it, and it'll get done, no matter what.

Ultimately, salvation has very little to do with saying the words "I believe Jesus Christ is the son of God and died for my sins." There are many, many people - some of whom hold the highest offices in the American government - who say this, and then go on to live lives that, by any account, are not at all Christ-like. How many people in your church have spent a week engaging in debauchery and other 'sinful' behaviors, only to appear in church on Sunday, ready to ask forgiveness for what they've done? And how many go right back out and do it again? How are these people better than those who live good lives and help their neighbor and further advance brotherhood and unity... But don't believe in God?

Which of these two types of people would you rather point to and say, "I taught them that?"

This is beginning to sound exactly like Matthew 21:28-31. Because it is. The human spam model, as well as being counterproductive, induces guilt in Christians who feel they ought to do it but don’t quite have the brass neck. All Christians actually have to do is be themselves and walk with an honest heart. It’s easier to reduce discipleship to checkboxes and slogans and be pushy, than to live the life. The fruits of the first approach are frustration, resentment, dissension. The fruits of the second are curiousity, acceptance and joy.

There’s a good English tradition that translations are for wusses. If talking at a non-English speaker who doesn’t understand you, all you do is speak louder. Joe points out that this is not, in fact, the case. All I would want to add is a rider that as well as applying to attempts to convert people to Evangelical Christianity, this applies to communication among Christians. Given a band of enthusiasts, you need to discern their methods, attitudes to community and processes, not just their ideas. The acid test remains that set by Jesus himself: By their fruits ye shall know them...