Goal! God & Football

GOOOAAAL!! God & Football from Rob Bee on Vimeo.

I suck at football.

On every level.

I am generally appalling at playing sport as I used my asthma as an excuse to get out of as much of it as possible when I was at school, football is no exception – I’m a right-footed player with 2 left feet. But also I come from a non-sport-watching family and so the football seed was never planted and I can’t see anything in the game to muster that excitement for any one team now. If I were pressed I’d say I’m anyone-but-united, but that’s mainly because, living in Sale, the trams are a nightmare when they’re playing a home game.

So the world cup? It doesn’t really bother me that much. I’ll watch a few games, but I’ll miss a lot more. I never even go out of my way to make sure I see England games. I will enjoy the good atmosphere in the country while we’re in the competition, and the opportunity to go to the pub is always welcomed, but I refuse to become one of those people who are whipped up into a month long frenzy of patriotic fervour over something I couldn’t give 2 hoots about for the rest of the time. So I write my blog from the position of an impassive observer.

Having now alienated ¾ of my readership I will continue.

Let’s not watch football; let’s watch the people watching football. I’ve met some – they’re quite interesting.
I’ve always been quite impressed with the way commentators can reel off facts and figures about when the last time team A beat team B and how the centre back has worn his vest tucked into his lucky pants for the last however many matches his team has played at whatever ground and how many of those occasions his team has won. But then I remind myself that it's their job to 'know' things about the teams playing and they've been studying stats in books for weeks before the game. Much more impressive is your common or garden football fan being able to do the same thing mid-conversation in the pub. And lots of them can do it – they have enough information stored away about every seasons starting line-ups and goal differences to start a small library (one of those ones that gets driven round in a large van). Regardless of their formal education and academic record, facts about football seem to stick. Football is something that people get passionate about, and that passion can be used for great things.
There is a basketball court in the park at the back of our house. 9 times out of 10 when you look out at people using it, they’re playing football. Providing a play area where people can play football is a very simple way of alleviating the complaint that teenagers often make – that there’s nothing for them to do. I know people who organise youth teams in ‘problem’ areas and it gives those young people an aim and a focus, it doesn’t just lessen the boredom. Life in some of the more poverty stricken areas of our country can be very insular as lack of cash keeps the population immobile, but football can be a relatively cheap way of raising the heads of the young people in these places and giving them hope. Football is used to raise awareness of issues. There is an annual homeless world cup where the players are all homeless. Last year 48 nations took part; this year’s competition is being held in Rio de Janeiro in September. There was also a Gaza world cup held earlier this year to raise awareness of the humanitarian situation there.

But if football at the grass roots level can be a force for good, how is that reflected at the highest levels? Surely on the international stage football could change the world! I have to say that here is where it disappoints me. At the first level I don’t know anyone – except professional footballers – who think professional footballers deserve the money they get paid. The status that the premiership players are given for what they do is out of proportion. David Cameron recently read out a letter of support from the England Football team to the soldiers in Afghanistan – what juxtaposition! Compare a bunch of millionaires who have earned their money by kicking a piece of leather around a park against a group of people who are risking their lives on a daily basis and who earn a pittance in comparison.
What about the clubs, do they fare any better? Well no. It’s them that support the levels of wages the players earn. There’s been a lot of press this season about the levels of debt the clubs have. It seems in some cases that the club owners are using the clubs as personal sources of income and the fact that they are meant to also play football seems like a sideline. Money and business has become more important than the actual game in some cases. The price of attending games seems to be escalating and for structure of pricing for season tickets seems to me to be questionable. It all seems geared towards the business end of the game at the expense of the ordinary fan. Where the grass roots game gives to fans it seems to me that the top flight simply takes and takes from those who can often ill afford it. Higher still the FA and FIFA have various allegations of corruption against them and would also seem to be blinded by the dollar signs being waved in front of them.

So in conclusion, football at its grassroots level is a source of inspiration and strength for people, it can be used as an agent for change and it deserves its title of ‘the Beautiful Game’. But when money and power become involved it becomes corruptible and can lose its way. It can lose sight of what it’s meant to be about and hurt those it’s meant to help.

I fibbed. That wasn't quite the conclusion.

Football is often slammed by the religious communities for being a semi-religion; well I say, 'Let he who is without sin throw the first stone.' read my conclusion again and see if you don't think it could apply to organised religion too.

So in conclusion, football at its grassroots level is a source of inspiration and strength for people, it can be used as an agent for change and it deserves its title of ‘the Beautiful Game’. But when money and power become involved it becomes corruptible and can lose its way. It can lose sight of what it’s meant to be about and hurt those it’s meant to help.

Groundhog day: God & Time.

Groundhog Day: God & Time from Rob Bee on Vimeo.

2010 promises to be kind of a good year. I have 2 anniversaries to celebrate. In September Helen & I have our 10^th wedding anniversary and we have a few days holiday booked where we’re going to spoil ourselves and spend far too much money. But scary as it sounds being married to Helen for that long it’s the other anniversary that I find more daunting. In June this year it will be 20 years since I left school. That sounds like an awfully long time ago. I’ve written before about how I didn’t really get on that well at school and how much I disliked it, and we’ve said before at cafe sundae that it isn’t the end of the world if you fail exams as there are always other options, but school still remains a massively important part of life; it’s a formative time and your record and memory of school will follow you down the years. Fifteen years ago I remember being surprised at it being so long since I left school and it’s a feeling which still hasn’t gone away. I think that a part of it is that there’s a definite demarcation of time as you progress through the education system - year six, year seven, year eight and so on – but once you’re out of education that firm separation disappears and so one year can very easily blend into the next. Where progress through life was simply a question of being a year older and moving into the next class once these boundaries have been moved progress has to be earned by effort not default. If we’re not careful we can watch the years slip by expecting life to come to us until – to quote Pink Floyd – ‘one day you find ten years have got behind you, no-one told you when to run; you missed the starting gun.’

In this way time can get away from us, but we can’t get away from time. It ticks and it tocks, it ebbs slowly by, it slips through our fingers like sand as we try to hold it. It’s relentless and quiet and constant and going and invisible and irreversible and absolute and awesome and merciless. It rules the universe more than any other thing. The speed of light may be the universal constant, but it’s measured in time. Physicists may claim that time bends and distorts at the edges of the universe, but everything within it is subject to the ravages of time; everything ages, even the universe itself will end. Time is the canvas onto which the universe is painted.

If you decide to have a read of the bible and open it at page 1 – which I don’t recommend - you will see the words, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” In the beginning. The first thing God had to do to be able to create the universe was create time, a medium in which the universe could work. Except that the language I’ve just used is wrong – we can’t say ‘the first thing God did was create time’ because that denotes a chronological order and we can’t have a chronological order without time, so before time was created (which we also can’t say) there was only God except we can’t really say that either as ‘was’ is the past participle of the verb ‘to be’ and denotes a time past, which we can’t have if we have no time. The most we can say is “Outside time, God.” And leave the beginning of genesis as it is with time already called into being. And this makes a nonsense of those idiots who say, “If God created man, who created God?” because they’re stuck in the idea that everything has a beginning and an end and everything being subject to time which if God was around before time – oops I mean outside time – he obviously isn’t subject to its course and can very easily have no beginning and end.

Time has provided a muse for many people to produce work on, the previously quoted Pink Floyd being just one. Cher sang (and I use the word in the loosest possible sense), “If I could turn back time...I’d take back the words that hurt you and you’d stay.” Jim Croce sang, “If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day Till Eternity passes away Just to spend them with you” Time travel has been a staple of science fiction writing in particular. Films like Groundhog Day, sliding Doors and Donnie Darko all use an abnormal passing of time as a central prop for the films plot to revolve around. Shakespeare said, “I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.”

A fairly common theme to lots of these ideas is the desire to ‘turn back time’ and get a second chance to do something which has gone wrong. We all have things that we’d do differently if we got chance, but we know that we never can, time cannot be undone. Once something is done or words are said then the moment has passed and it can’t be re-claimed and re-done. Decisions we make or actions we take can have repercussions into the future and bad decisions particularly seem to come back and bite us in the bum. I can see times in my life where I’ve had to make a choice and those choices have lead me to where I am now, had I made a different choice I would be somewhere totally different, I don’t know where but not Manchester, doing something completely different for a living. The choices I’ve made at a point in time have had repercussions not just for me but for other people as well. Time being linear I can’t go back and see how my life would have been different if I’d made a different choice. All we can do is live with the choices we make and aspire to make good choices when the time comes. The journalist Sidney J Harris said “Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.”

So what can we conclude from all this? That we only get one shot at life, that we need to take opportunities as they are presented to us, that we need to decide what we want out of life and drive towards it. Do we want to be remembered after we die? Then we need to start making that happen now. There are few people out of the billions who have lived whose names we know. Beethoven, Einstein, Aristotle, Hitler & St Paul are names that live on long after they died. We can’t all hope to make such a big impression, but we can, if we so desire, aim to influence those around us. I still remember the names of teachers and youth leaders I knew who I thought were inspirational, each of us can make a mark - if we want to. Do we want to devote our life to making such a difference or do we want to devote it simply to pleasure?

Let’s quote some clichés here; why? Because they contain truth.

Carpe diem – seize the day;

A stich in time saves nine.

live each day as if it were your last.

You will never find time for anything, if you want time you must make it.

Time & Tide wait for no man.

I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll leave you in peace.

Broke: God & Poverty

Broke: God & Poverty from Rob Bee on Vimeo.

So Jesus is hanging out with the disciples when a woman comes in and gives Jesus a very expensive gift. It’s kind of the equivalent of a huge bunch of flowers in that it’s not a practical gift and it won’t last long at all – it’s a token of affection rather than something he could use. The disciples go nuts and say to her, “That money could have gone to the poor and been used much better than spending it on silly gestures like this!” Rather than agreeing with them and joining in telling the woman off Jesus tells the disciples to calm down. “There will always be poor people,” says Jesus, “The poor will always be with us.”

So is that statement a kind of laissez faire writing off of those in need? Does Jesus validate doing nothing to alleviate poverty? If so what do organisations like Christian Aid and Tradecraft think they are trying to achieve by their attempts to make poverty history?

The first thing to say is that the word ‘poverty’ is quite nice to type. After you’ve done the ‘pov’ bit you can put the little finger of your left hand on the E key and just roll your fingers – there it is.

The second thing to think about it where poverty comes from.

A long time ago – just after people had decided to stop being hunter gatherers – people realised that they couldn’t supply everything they needed for themselves and so they would have to make swaps with other families to supply those bits of stuff they needed to survive. So Mr Bloggs the butcher would need to go to Mr Briggs the baker to get some bread for his sandwiches. This worked very well as Mr Briggs needed meat for his sarnies so they swapped agreed amounts of bread & meat and all families were happy. Or they were until it got dark and they needed to go and see Mr Evans the candlestick maker. They needed his candles so they could see around their caves, but he was a gluten intolerant vegetarian so he wouldn’t swap anything and so the Briggs’s and Bloggs’s stubbed their toes on the cave walls and ended up having to ask Mr Clark the leather worker if he could invent shoes in return for some cow hides and a birthday cake for his mother-in-law.

This uneven system of trade carried on until Mr Morris the miner discovered some particularly nice shiny pebbles that everyone wanted. They decorated their houses with them, turned them into brooches and earrings and some clever people even discovered that shiny pebbles conduct electricity and invented the internet. Even if people had no use for shiny pebbles themselves they used to keep them as they could swap them for things they needed much easier than their own goods. Their use as currency spread and more and more people collected them. Those that had a lot continued to wear them as ornaments while those who only had a few stashed them under the mattress to use to buy things with and as this behaviour continued the gap between the stashers and the wearers widened. They began to call each other names like ‘social climber’ and ‘oik’ until they no longer wanted to live next to each other and the wearers – being able to afford to do so - moved off in search of bigger caves. The wearers compared their finery to that of their new neighbours and wanted bigger and blingier so devised new ways of getting richer, while the stashers, becoming increasingly desperate for shiny pebbles, became a highly exploitable work force for the wearers and they continued to use their shiny pebbles exclusively as currency and crave a cave posh enough to have an outdoor toilet. And thus capitalism and the class system were borne.

So we can see from this that you need 2 things to create poverty. Firstly you need a lot of money - I’ll say that again – you need a lot of money to create poverty. You need an excess of money in the system for people to be able to hoard it. And secondly you need greed, greed enough for people to crave cash, to collect money and want more and more and more of it. If you want to you can add a third ingredient – ignorance. You could argue that the rich people are often ignorant of the effects their hoarding wealth has on the poor, but I’ll leave that one to you.

So as far as Jesus goes there are 2 issues to poverty, there’s the greed and there’s the whole ‘love your neighbour’ thing. The greed thing’s fairly easy to deal with – There’s nothing wrong with providing enough shiny pebbles to feed and clothe your dependents. There’s nothing wrong with saving for a rainy day, but when the amassing of shiny pebbles becomes an end in itself we need to start to ask questions. And when we don’t care where we get our pebbles from and how we get them then we’re really in trouble. We then start to impact on the whole ‘love your neighbour thing’. Jesus was really clear about this one. It’s not optional, in fact it’s the second most important thing we have to do. Love your neighbour like you love yourself. No matter how badly done to you may think you are on a global scale none of us are poor, we’re not stashers, we’re wearers. So imagine yourself craving that new pair of trainers or mp3 player or diamond encrusted underpants and think about who made them. Were they made in the developing world? That’s where the cheap labour is, that’s where we don’t see the exploitation. Now ‘love your neighbour’. Imagine that it is one of your nearest and dearest that is working in that factory or sweatshop in such appalling conditions – working 14 hour shifts with no breaks and earning only just enough to cover the rent on a shoebox in a gutter. Would you still buy it or would you spend a bit extra to ensure your loved one got decent working conditions and a living wage? Our reaction to the suffering and injustice suffered by the poor should be the same as it would be if we saw our nearest and dearest in their place.

So Jesus cares about poverty. He cares that people are exploited and viewed as tools to get a job done rather than valuable human beings. He cares that people put possessions and themselves above the welfare of others. He cares that people become so blinded by what they have they forget who they are. When he tells the disciples ‘The poor will always be with you,” he means, “You will always need to support them. You will always need to love your neighbour. You will always need to defend those who can’t defend themselves.’ This is the work done by the aid agencies. This is the work that God has for his Church, this is the work he has for you and me.

black Gold: God & Oil

Black Gold: God & Oil from Rob Bee on Vimeo.

I don’t want to write a blog this month; it’s too hard.

When we were researching an earlier café sundae topic we chanced upon some material about oil and decided it was a topic worth looking at so we put it in the diary. Then as we’ve been preparing for this café sundae we’ve realised the problem. With many topics we’ve tackled we’ve struggled to find enough material that we can use, but this month it’s been the opposite problem. The scale of the mountain we were asking to climb was above and beyond anything we’ve tackled before and it became apparent that we would have to be less ambitious in our aims if we were to do any justice to what we looked at. All we could hope to do was a quick ramble around the foothills, and leave the summit to another day.

I guess the problem stems from just how important oil is to the modern western way of life. Oil and its derivatives have been used for thousands of years, but it’s only in the last couple of hundred years that the industry has really taken off. Petrochemicals now get used to manufacture a massive range of products we use every day – from plastics and cosmetics to fertilizers and medicines, It provides the fuel that brings the world to our feet and take our feet into the world, it’s even in our bank accounts – Most banks invest heavily in the petrochemical industry as it’s a pretty safe bet to yield good returns. It’s become a massively important part of the world economy and also as important to us individually too.

Over the last decade the price of petrol hasn’t been too far from the top of the newssheets or indeed far from people’s conversations. The oil companies year after year make record profits and yet the price of petrol keeps going upwards – people sense an injustice and it has lead to popular protest. Oil has become so important to people that they expect private companies to virtually give it away, to give us petrol on the same kind of terms as we get our water. But why should they? Oil companies are private businesses and when they were founded they were allowed to sell their product as any other company could – it’s only because they have been so successful in their business and their product has become so important that we expect them to act differently for our benefit.

Far be it for me to defend the oil companies though. The magnitude of the issue we have tried to look at seems to be due to the oil companies knowing their power and importance and acting as if they are above the law. I can’t do justice to the issues in this short space, but let me outline a couple of areas for you: and I’m not going to name companies individually – partly as they all seem to be as bad as each other and partly because if you care about these issues and you want to know more details you can do your own research easily enough.

The first place that oil companies fail is with regard to the environment. Oil is dirty stuff and we’ve all seen the effects of oil tanker spills. We’ve seen news footage of the miles of devastated coastline, black tide ebbing and glooping on black beaches, birds and other wildlife unable to escape the clutches of a black slow death. We have to accept that some accidents will happen. But there are allegations that oil companies could do more to prevent such occurances and frustration at the slowness of their response in the clean up when spillages occur. But there is worse pollution. There is a lot of evidence to suggest that oil companies aren’t taking interest in the environmental impact of their drilling operations in more hidden corners of the world. Across Europe and America companies have to monitor any levels of toxins they produce and control their emissions. Across Africa and vast areas of Asia the oil companies don’t do this and their product produces many toxins which are allowed to pollute the local environments. Poisonous gasses are allowed to escape, oil allowed to pollute water supplies and the oil workers aren’t supplied with the basic safety gear that their western counterparts are required to wear. All this cuts the price of production, but at what cost?

Unfortunately the problem goes still further. Oil companies have been accused of suppressing opposition where it occurs. In the early 90s the people of the Niger Delta began a peaceful protest against the oil company working in the region. They wanted environmental and economic justice and basic human rights. Ken Saro-wiwa was one of their main spokespeople as well as being an author and television producer. In 1995 he was arrested and hurriedly tried and hanged along with 8 other leaders in the protest movement. The trials are widely regarded as having been rigged and the oil company working in the area has been heavily implicated in the events. They were sued by the families of the deceased and settled out of court to the tune of $15.5 million before any evidence could be heard.

This isn’t an isolated incident of corruption; let’s not forget the last American president. Mr George W and most of the top brass in his administration had come from the oil industry where they had held a number of top jobs. W’s first election win was extremely dubious and is hopefully as close as it is possible to get to election rigging in the world’s only superpower, and then they conspired to manufacture the war in Iraq under the pretence of pro-democracy and WMDs but which most people consider to be about oil.

So you see why I don’t want to write a blog this month – where do you start with that lot and what can you say about making things right? It’s difficult finding a positive as we have to use oil and there is no ethical oil company and therefore seemingly little we as consumers can do with our ethical pounds. All I can really suggest is that the oil companies don’t want these facts becoming common knowledge as it reflects very badly on them, so let’s spread the word and shame the companies into doing the right thing. Like the Old Testament prophets we can shout these stories from the rooftops and shine a spotlight into the shady areas of the world where these actions currently go on unseen.

Grrrr: God & Revenge

Grrr: God & Revenge from Rob Bee on Vimeo.

It was a cold dark night and it was raining hard. I found myself lost on the moors of Scotland. I spotted lights on the hill top and I made for them. After a hard walk I came upon a tavern and I entered. I shook the rain from my coat and went to warm my hands by the open fire. I glanced over to a table in the corner and there sat on old man with a look of worldly wisdom about him. I went to the bar to ask the Landlord for lodgings for the night and then I went to my room to change into dry clothes. When I was refreshed I descended the stairs and went back to the bar for a drink. “Is everything to your liking, Sir?” asked the barman. “Yes thanks.” I replied, “It’s a lovely room.” “You just wait until tomorrow morning, Sir. If the weather’s right it catches the sunrise beautifully.” “I hope to be asleep when the sun rises.” I quipped. I turned to find an empty table and as I did so a man stuck out his foot and sent me sprawling to the floor spilling my pint all down my dry clothes. I must admit that I took exception to the man and I told him so. I left him in no doubt that I would get even then I went to go back to my room to get changed again, but the old man in the corner stopped me as I passed and bade me sit. “Beware.” he said. “You tread a dangerous path.” I sneered, presuming he was talking about the object of my previous rage, but he looked me in the eye and said, “Beware the black rabbit of revenge, Son. Beware the black rabbit of revenge.” Thinking the old man was mad I stood to leave, but he grabbed my jacket sleeve. The look in his eye pleaded with me to stay and so I retook my seat and listened to what he had to say.

A low breeze blew around our ankles as the man spoke and his eyes darted left and right as if trying to find what caused it. His tones became more hushed and more urgent, “I beg you not to seek out the Black Rabbit of Revenge, your life will be forfeit. I was not always a shrivelled up old man sat in a corner, I hope that by telling you my story I can somehow redeem myself.

No doubt you will have heard the stories of the Black Dogs who prowl around the old moors of this country preying on those unfortunate enough to get lost by luring them over the edges of cliffs? Well there is a more unspeakable horror at lose in these parts, and that is the Black Rabbit of Revenge. He stalks those who feel the need for retaliation and makes their lives a living Hell, consuming their waking moments and their dreams until nothing is left but a bitter shell of impotent rage and a migraine. You look at me as though I’m mad Son, but I know of what I speak. I have seen him, I have met the Black Rabbit of Revenge and I was almost broken by him. I know how he works and how he’s beaten.” He drew deeply on his pint before he continued. “You will meet the Black Rabbit of Revenge as you contemplate your damp clothes. You’ll see a movement out of the corner of your eye and you’ll turn to see what it was and find yourself looking at the man who tripped you. The Rabbit won’t let you forget him. And when you leave the room and are no longer in his company the Rabbit will follow you. Every so often at the most unexpected moment you’ll feel a pull at your trouser leg, and you will look down to find the Black Rabbit of Revenge nibbling at your socks and you’ll think of that man. You’ll awake in the middle of the night to hear the Black Rabbit of Revenge running full pelt around your house and you’ll remember your stained shirt. You’ll find where he’s gnawed your furniture and you will know that he similarly gnaws at your soul. And should be foolish enough to listen to him and seek your revenge then he breaks his promise to leave you be, and he becomes your permanent companion. He sleeps on your pillow, eats from your plate, walks in your shadow and tunnels into every pore of your being. You can try to justify your actions and you can pretend that he’s gone, but you’ll know that the rabbit has burrowed into you and made his home. He dozes, eyes half shut, warm and safe inside your mind. Every time he stretches out his legs or yawns you feel him. You know that while you sleep he digs deeper into your soul whilst at the same time he pulls at the heels of your victim in the hope that he too may hear the call of the Black Rabbit of Revenge thus spreading this horror further and sewing seeds of chaos into the fabric of the universe.”

By this time it was obvious that the old man was deeply scarred and deathly serious. His grave note had got me worried. I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, “So how can I beat the Black Rabbit of Revenge before he gets a hold of me?” The old man nodded sagely. “The Black Rabbit is like any other rabbit. Now think, Lad. What don’t rabbits like?” I did my best to stretch my mind back to the rabbit wrangling GCSE that I’d done at school, but it was so long ago. Then something came to me, “Stamping! Rabbits don’t like stamping!” The old man smiled, “That they don’t,” he said. “Stamping is a danger signal but it doesn’t last long. Put on the Boots of Dormancy when the Rabbit shows his face and stamp hard. He’ll know you simply won’t take action soon and he’ll leave you for a short while. He will be back quickly though to remind you of how you have been wronged and he won’t let up until you either take your vengeance or take stronger action against him. Think hard. What could that action be?” I thought back to my school days and all the time I’d spent ignoring lessons; I’d never have thought then that my life would depend on such an unlikely subject as rabbit wrangling. I stood on metaphorical tiptoes to reach as far back in my memory as I could, and I found something. “Rabbits hate being squirted in the face with a water pistol.” I said. “Good,” said the old man. “That’s right. It’s a way of training them and correcting their behaviour. Use the Water Pistol of Forgetting against the Black Rabbit of Revenge and he’ll learn to leave you alone. Then you can begin to forget your vendetta against this man. But be warned, it isn’t a permanent solution. The rabbit can wait forever for your guard to be down and then he will come and remind you and the cycle will begin again.”

“There must be a permanent solution,” I said. “Or am I cursed till the end of time?”

“There is an answer,” the man said. “Think hard. What do rabbits fear above all else?”

“The eagle!” I had remembered!

“That’s right,” said the Old Man, “Rabbits fear the eagle most of all. An eagle can mean the end of a rabbit. And so you must pray hard that the Eagle of Forgiveness will come and catch your Black Rabbit of Revenge. It will catch and eat him and the rabbit will trouble you no more. Your curse will be lifted.”

I gave a sigh of relief and stood up once more to leave. The Old Man spoke again and prevented my exit, “But be warned. As hard as this knowledge is to attain it is even harder to put into practice. You must pray for the Eagle of forgiveness, but even if he comes he may not catch the Black Rabbit of revenge first time. It may take years, but it is the only solution. Now go and think of all we’ve discussed. I have told you the truth, now is your choice to make.”

I turned and walked out of the now empty bar and went to my room. As I unlocked the door I saw the glow of dawn lighting my room. We had talked all night. The barman was right, the room caught the sunrise beautifully.

No Room at the Inn: God & the Refugee

Between 1999 and 2002 the sight of Kosovan Albanians was not unusual in Timperley, Cheshire. A group of 62 of them lived at Meadow Court, on the outskirts of the village, which had become an emergency refugee centre.  The Minister of the local Methodist Church, Rev Bruce Thompson, had pressed Trafford Council to use the facility and became heavily involved in looking after the refugees for the duration of their stay there. Café Sundae sent their intrepid reporter Rob to talk with Bruce and find our more about his experiences.

 

A cold wet Manchester evening forms as I prepare to interview Bruce.  As the distance between Manchester and Taunton (where Bruce is currently based) is too great for our respective diaries to negotiate we meet in 2 places – in my imagination and in my memory of previous meetings with Bruce. We therefore talk via e-mail. I turn my imaginary tape recorder on and the interview begins.

The Balkans have a history of being a tinder box for the start of conflicts. Most famously the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was shot by a Serb nationalist in Sarajevo thus sparking the beginning of the First World War. After the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, Yugoslavia – a country created in the wake of that great conflict – broke up and the old nationalist tensions began to arise again. The nineties saw 2 Balkan wars – in Croatia and Bosnia –NATO grew tired of the unrest in the area and sent armed forces to intervene. Then in Kosovo the Serb minority took up arms and waged a bitter and ugly war against the Albanian Kosovar population. Much has been written about the conflict and the allegations of genocide and resulting war crimes trials, and it’s against this background that Rev Bruce Thompson saw a need that he and Timperley Methodist Church could meet.

One of the first things you notice about Bruce as he talks is his quiet enthusiasm. As he explains all that happened there’s an intelligent passion that comes through and leaves you in no doubt about the depth of his convictions and the energy he has at his disposal to complete tasks such as bringing a group of refugees to safety in Timperley. “Oh it was an enormous task,” says Bruce, “We were never without things to do. It took over our lives.” Which begs the question ‘So why get involved in the first place?’ Bruce explains how he had seen the news reports of the NATO airstrikes and heard the stories of thousands of Kosovans massacred. “Someone wrote in a newspaper that ‘our moral imagination had been fuelled by memories of the holocaust.’ The sight of a million people from the poorest region of Europe being forced from their homes, crossing mountains in deep snow, with few possessions and provisions, often separated from the male members of their families meant that we had to do something.

Our 1999 Easter Sunday Service of Holy Communion triggered my own involvement. My congregation and I shared an act of solidarity with the Kosovars fleeing persecution in which the bread and wine of communion were left untouched on the table and we broke off imaginary bread and drank imaginary wine. This was an overwhelming act. Shortly after that we were asked to participate in collecting supplies to be taken to Kosovo by a convoy of lorries. The convoy left Manchester and I felt compelled to watch it leave. I placed my hand on a lorry and prayed and I realised that a convoy like that has no room for passengers; maybe God had something for me and the community I serve to undertake.” Bruce explained to me the complicated processes involved in opening up Meadow Court as a refugee centre, and the ways he worked with Trafford Council and the Altrincham Muslim Association. I am amazed even by the amount of work that needed to be done before a single refugee has even arrived. “Timperley Methodist Church should be very proud of what was achieved by her members during that time,” says Bruce, “The experience not only changed the lives of the Kosovans but also the lives of the helpers. Without the support of the Church it couldn’t have happened.”

This seemed a good point to change tack, so I asked Bruce about the Kosovans. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he began to answer. “The Kosovans that came to Timperley were the forth flight to come to the UK,” he says, “Most were physically hurt and in need of serious medical treatment. One young woman who came to us had only been married for 6 months, she developed leukaemia and died within 4 months. One man was paralysed from the waist down, underwent a huge number of operations and died just 2 years ago after struggling here for 8 years. One family of five children – 2 brothers, 2 sisters and one cousin – survived a major massacre that claimed almost the rest of their entire family. These teenagers all had severe gunshot wounds and underwent major surgery over many years. Some were completely broken – physically and mentally. Most were terrified and deeply worried for their families left behind or missing. Even now, 10 years on, the wounds still hurt for many of the Kosovans. It takes a lifetime to deal with some issues.” Bruce continued with a heart wrenching account of how most of the refugees had left their homes with nothing, often at gunpoint, and how they had had to be supplied with the most basic things when they arrived in Timperley, “People were very generous to begin with,” continues Bruce, “The manager of a local bed store ordered his staff to strip the display beds and pack as much as possible into the back of one of our volunteers cars. And the owner of a large toiletry company filled the boot and back seat of his car with soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo etc from the staff shop.”

“Was there any opposition?” I asked Bruce.  He replies that there was none while the war was underway, “The images on the TV news highlighted their plight and almost everyone was moved by them. However once the war was over and as time moved on the Kosovans had to endure comments such as, ‘Why are you still here?’ or ‘I thought the war was over’ and so forth. The public’s reaction wasn’t helped by the right wing press, not least the Daily Mail with talk about ‘bogus asylum seekers’. There is no such thing as a ‘bogus’ asylum seeker. If you’re seeking asylum then that is a fact. 2 of our helpers received BNP literature through their letterbox denouncing our work.  To the best of my knowledge the material wasn’t received by anyone else in their street.”
The next question seemed an obvious one – “How did you deal with the opposition?” Bruce’s face develops a look of determination. “We pressed on regardless.” He says. “We tried as best as we could to ignore the ill-informed comments fostered by those with a different agenda and we tried as best we could to promote the frustrations of the Kosovans at not being allowed to work and also the wonderful contribution of the children to local schools.  Over the time the centre was open I learned never to back down when challenging an injustice, it can be done with grace and courtesy but there can come a point when you have to steel your nerves and actually fight for what is right, true and just. When I originally saw the media images of the war I was moved, but I was also deeply concerned about the limited response of the Christian Church to the plight of the Jews and others in the holocaust, yet here was a genocide before our very eyes less than 2 hours flight from Manchester.” I pause to take in the words, but Bruce – it seems – is just getting warmed up, “Jesus invites us to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless etc. and to be able to stand alongside others, whatever their faith, culture or standing in society is an incredible privilege – we all have so much to learn from one another.  As we’re coming up to Christmas we should remember that Jesus was born a refugee, so we can say that God is present in the stranger. You will recall that shortly after his birth the gospel according to Matthew has Jesus and his family fleeing the wrath and forces of Herod and taking up residence in a foreign country. On one occasion in the Old Testament – the Hebrew Scriptures – we are directed to love our neighbours. On no fewer than 24 occasions we are directed to welcome the stranger. Anyone who votes BNP is clearly not fulfilling the Christian obligation to welcome those from another country or culture; nor are they celebrating the rich diversity of humankind granted us by our Creator. As a Christian I rejoice in what I might discern in those who bring a different experience and perspective to my life, community and nation. We are all the better for such input.”

It’s obvious to me by the way Bruce talks that he speaks of a time that is very dear to his heart and I wonder what he hoped to gain from bringing the Kosovans to Timperley. “Nothing,” Says Bruce emphatically, then he adds, “But we got more than we ever could imagine.” My curiosity is pricked however, “Bruce,” I say, “You’re a Methodist Minister bringing a group of Muslims into the community of the Church – Surely you hoped to evangelise”. Bruce shakes his head, “The thought of converting the Kosovan Albanians to Christianity was never in my mind. It would have been an abuse of my position to manipulate or coerce people who were in a most vulnerable state. One local minister went in with that view and got absolutely nowhere. The Good Samaritan didn’t help the guy in the gutter in order to get anything out of him – he did it because the guy was in need!”

Bruce still evidently has a lot to say, but our time draws to a close.  As we bid each other good-bye he reflects. “You know, I learned a lot through all that happened with the Kosovans.“  I am suddenly glad that I’ve forgotten to turn my tape recorder off, “I learned that as good as we may be at raising money to be sent off to worthy causes it can be too much to ask to care for those on our doorsteps. When we pray for an end to oppression and racial tension we presume the transformation of our world will happen somewhere else.”  I add that I agree and that often when we pray God’s answer is, “I could do that, but so could you. So why don’t you tackle this one?” to which Bruce adds, “And we must trust that we’ll be sustained, even when there’s no happy ending (which there can’t be every time) because God will still reveal something of such value that it will always be of benefit, if not at the time then at some point later. I learned to ask for the help of others,” Bruce goes on. “If they decline then it’s their loss but at least they were asked and there’s nothing lost on the part of the one making the request.  And I now know that the Christian Church does not have a monopoly on love, and nor does it have a monopoly on truth.”

As we part I congratulate Bruce on his part in this story, his humility seems almost dismissive, “I said at the time that if I never did anything again then at least I did this, for which I thank God, because without him I could never have kept going.”

I am inspired by the story I’ve heard and I drive home in silent contemplation. “…At least I did this…” I think, ‘how many of us have done nearly that much?’

Here is a man who made a difference, a man who almost certainly saved lives. I get the impression that despite the hardships and exhaustion he faced, if he saw a similar situation arise he’d be hard pressed not to do it all again.

 

Bruce’s book – Shelter From the Storm – is published by Epworth Press( ISBN 07162 0569 6) and is available through all good online bookstores.

Ship Ahoy! God & Somalia

It’s happened again.

Allow me to be a little self-congratulatory for a moment. Once again Café Sundae planned months ago to take a look at a topic which is hot news at the moment. I don’t know how we do it!

You should have seen in the news lately quite a lot about Somalia and the amount of piracy there is around Somali waters, and in particular at the moment the kidnap of Paul and Rachel Chandler from Tunbridge Wells. There is much concern amongst the international community about the pirates and the ease at which they operate from their Somali bases and a growing fleet of navy ships representing many countries patrol the waters near Somalia in an effort to make the waters safe for commerce – which until the Chandlers were taken was the main target for the pirates. But is this the best solution to the problem or are we just treating the symptoms of a disease that will continue to spread?

Somalia is a young country, but a very old civilisation. Cave paintings have been found there that date back to around 9000BC. Situated where it is it was on a major trade route between Africa and the Middle East it enjoyed the wealth of cultural exchange as well as the financial benefits. Fast forward to the Europe’s 19^th century land grab of Africa and the people of the area successfully repelled attempts by Italy, France and Britain to colonise the area. The opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 heightens the importance of the straights of Aden as a trade route and brings about increased efforts by the Europeans to extend their spheres of influence on the Horn of Africa. The Dervish leader Mohammed Abdullah Hassan united the Somali people to retain their independence.

In 1920 Britain used aeroplanes against the Dervishes for the first time and Southern Somalia came under British influence. About the same time the North-East of the region came under Italian influence. British and Italian forces then clashed – particularly during the Second World War – to gain sole control of what was known as Somaliland. Independence came and Somalia was founded in 1960 when the British and Italian Governments both withdrew and allowed Somalia to become a united country. As often happened when a European country left a colony, there was a power vacuum and much squabbling amongst the various tribes living in Somalia and in 1991 the Government fell. Since then Somalia has been essentially governmentless – a situation which has led to the current state of near anarchy and the pirates being able to operate as blatantly as they do.

So what you have in Somalia is a fiercely independent country that was once an affluent and important society compared with its neighbours that has been brought to its knees in a very short space of time by European meddling. And to rub salt into the wounds a huge proportion of the world’s wealth gets paraded in front of its eyes as the huge container ships of the west sail through the Straights of Aden. The Somali people live in abject poverty and have to watch our luxury goods float past their nose ends as they journey to and from our markets. Put things in these terms and you can maybe begin to understand the actions of the pirates – their being willing to take on such a dangerous profession. Life on land is no better as the lack of Government means that for the last 20 years Somalia has been in a state of civil war as the various tribes struggle for power. Often the pirates are seen as heroes by the Somali people for defending Somalia’s right to make a living and boosting Somalia’s economy.

But we miss an important part of the picture here. Small groups of uneducated Africans, such as the pirates are, surely lack the resources to hold supertankers to ransom and extract payment for the return of the ships from their rightful owners. There has to be more people involved. Enter stage left - organised crime.

As I’ve already said Somalia is a lawless land, and into this disordered country came a criminal class to take the power which the politicians were unable to share and use it to exploit the people who were already broken and hope-less. When the pirates take a ship it is to these people they bring it, and they who gain from it. The pirates get paid some for their efforts, but it is organised crime that is the big winner. Exactly who is involved in this side of pirating is unknown. For obvious reasons they keep their identities very secret. Whether they’re from Somalia or the international community – or a mixture of both – is unclear, but while the fighting inside Somalia continues they are being allowed to operate uninhibited, making themselves richer and richer and risking the lives of ordinary Somalis.

I’ve painted a picture in very broad brushstrokes here. Hopefully you can see the picture is a more complex one than is often presented on the news. The solution to the issue has to be one that takes all these factors into account – and all the subtleties I’ve missed out. Whether we leave Somalia to sort itself out, or whether we intervene – and how we intervene – is very much up for debate. Whether the ships owners and insurance companies are helping or making matters worse by paying ransoms and whether we consider our history in the area to be part of the problem and the implications of responsibility that would bring are questions that will be asked if things are allowed to continue as they are now. In the short terms we wish for the safe return of the Chandlers and we hold them, their family and their captors in our prayers.