Blood Brothers #2

So clearly people from working class backgrounds could use a bit of solidarity at the moment. We get into problems when we don’t recognise that we have some cultural differences. You expect it when going to another part of the world, but for some reason when we’re in the UK we expect everyone to behave just like us. If you don’t recognise the differences you can end up judging people for not behaving how middle class values say you should (e.g. ‘chav’-bashing); you can assume their difficulties are due to laziness rather than society dumping on them since the year dot (what do you think about people who go to the job centre?); you can attempt to be helpful and achieve the opposite because a) you do things to people and so disempower them further or b) you put things on and don’t understand why no one’s interested (e.g. doing Alpha in homes in the east end, when no one ever goes into each other’s houses there).

Your class doesn’t necessarily correspond to your wealth. It is more to do with a different outlook on life. Working class culture is not worse for you than any other culture. However, in our country, it is mostly working class people who are bearing the brunt of poverty... and that is bad for you!

A note on poverty. Poverty isn’t just about having more or less money at any given moment. I’ve had a few lean times in my life – when my Dad’s business went bust and he was bankrupt for a few years, and more recently working voluntarily for over a year on diminishing savings and money out of the blue from the Father. But I’ve never really been disempowered. I’ve still got the benefits of a great education, great work experience, a strong network of family and friends, wisdom for handling money/decisions/work/etc, self-belief instilled by loving parents, confidence in & intimacy with the living God, all the nice clothes & goods I’ve picked up through the years... so although I left Kampala with £20 to my name, I wasn’t really poor. My future was as bright as ever. I could easily see how I could get to anywhere in life I wanted to go. The point of poverty is that 20% of people in this country can’t.
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So.. in our different classes, we are equal. The question Willy Russell poses to us through Blood Brothers is, why then do people from one background get opportunities when the other doesn't? How can that be allowed? What can we do about it?

I haven’t really mentioned much about Blood Brothers. I just want you to go and see it. If you can afford to, you probably need to. It will help you understand this so well, and be a lot more fun than reading this dry blog. So I'll leave you with a real taste...

Blood Brothers #1

Did you ever hear the story of the Johnston twins?
As like each other as two new pins.
How one was kept, and one given away,
And they were both born, and died, on the very self-same day.

I went to see Blood Brothers again the other week, and remembered why it is possibly my favourite musical. It’s not really for the dancing. Rather, great tunes... and a story about real things.

The gist is that a wealthy lady persuades her cleaner to give her one of her twins, as the wealthy lady hasn’t been able to have children. We then follow the two boys as they grow up, and see how the simple fact of growing up in different backgrounds makes their lives turn out tragically differently. The narrator closes with this thought:

And was superstition to blame for what came to pass?
Or what the English have come to know as ‘Class’?

There is a lovely moment in The West Wing, when the young Jed Bartlett comments to his father’s secretary, “In our family we don’t talk about money.” To which she replies, “That’s because you have money.” I think class works similarly. If you don’t think you have a class, if you don’t think it’s an issue, that’s almost certainly because you’re middle class, like the majority of people in the UK.

A great easy way to find out the blind spots in your own culture is to ask people from other countries what they are. They will be able to think of a few! One which often gets mentioned for us in the UK is this issue of class. In America, a millionaire and a hot dog salesman will talk the same way, watch the same sports, have the same values and wear the same clothes. Think about millionaires and men on burger vans in this country! Someone said class is in the UK what racism is in the US.

Now just because Trade Unions and working class political heroes seem to have faded from the TV since the 70s, it doesn’t mean the working class have gone anywhere. In fact, I would guess that life is tougher for people from a working class background now than ever. Consumerism, snobbery in popular culture, the export of industrial jobs, the decline of ideas how to do life through rejection of tradition/authority/values, and hopeless corrupt administration of welfare policy by the civil service have completely disempowered working class people. 20% of the UK population is now overwhelmed by unemployment, addictions, broken families, isolation, lack of education, depression, anxiety, low self esteem, crime and criminal records. This is an issue worth thinking about.

The most special person in the world

You’ve been very good to me
Really you have
I can’t fault your kindness
Giving
Time
Patience
Grace with my mistakes
Your door wide open to me
You hug me when I come inside
A blanket to my sharp edges
Soft Warm Strong

You’ve listened to me with wisdom
We’ve sung and we’ve strummed
You’ve opened up your passion
Let me stay all day long.
But when a night like this comes
I’m no more favoured than another one
I remember you’re just a friend far from home
A man with his own damn worries
A miracle really
That you loved me so well
For a moment there I forgot
I’m not your son
I’m not the most special person in the world.

So thank you for listening
And letting me down
It hurts like an avalanche
I’m muffled in its wake
But hearing my heart as clear as a bell
I don’t need you to love me
Don’t need anybody who could love me so well
I forget it isn’t true
You’re not my dad
I’m not the most special person in the world.

I’m not greedy to want more
I’m desperate and weak
If I don’t get it properly I’ll turn out a thief
Wrenching kindness from any in sight
By show offs, hard work, sleight of tongue
My disbelief will grow
And you won’t get a chance to love me at all

Alone, yeah
And despairing
Until I hear the words
Only one can give
That I don’t deserve

“Tim, you’re my son”
“Yes, you’re the most special person in the world.”

Permission to speak #2

What does this look like?

After coming back from Uganda a year ago, I felt particularly liberated from some English cultural chains. I was talking to a guy I used to live with, but had never engaged in a conversation about faith. And it occurred to me to just ask him what he believed. For the next hour we were talking about deep perspectives I’d never heard from him before, I was sharing my story, others around were sharing too.. It was fascinating, it was fun, I felt like we got closer to realising reality, and at the end of it, my friend turned to me and said, ‘thank you for not pushing anything on me but listening.’ I deliberately started the conversation!

This is also why the Alpha course works. This is what The Guardian said about it: “What Alpha offers, and what is attracting thousands of people, is permission, rare in secular culture, to discuss the big questions - life and death and their meaning.” When you’re there, it is the easiest, most natural thing in the world to engage in discussion about Jesus. That’s what you’re all there for!

Finally, and for Christians this should be the clincher, this is what Jesus does in his 4 famous biographies. I used to like quoting St Francis of Assisi, ‘Preach the gospel all the time. Use words if you have to.’ And it’s easy to make general statements about Jesus that support your own argument, but don’t really match up to the evidence. But I feel confident asserting this one because it was something I didn’t believe that got challenged by, you know, actually reading the Bible for myself.

I was looking at how Jesus carried out his mission, and although in several months I got no more than a few months through his public activity, I discovered loads from that. Jesus didn’t just do what I thought we should – that is, not press the ‘god-conversation’, but not bottle it if it comes up. In fact, he constantly brings up the subject. (Have a look at John, chapter 4, for a prime example. If you need convincing like I did, have a look at Matthew chapters 4 & 8, Mark chapters 1-2, Luke chapters 4-5, John chapters 1-4.)

You know, I actually think we should be able to talk even more frankly about the ‘faith that helps us’ with our friends, colleagues, family, neighbours, than my doctor friend can. But in practice that does feel awkward as we’ve already said; and honestly, I’m not comfortable doing that yet.

My point is that at the very least, we can feel happy doing what doctors do, legitimately, all the time: let people know it’s okay to talk about faith, and see where the conversation ends up!

Permission to speak

I was at a birthday party last week. I was talking to a Doctor, and he told me something I’ve not heard before.

It’s much publicised how ‘they don’t let Doctors talk to patients about their faith.’ And we understand this applies to anyone in any profession, even to individuals talking with other individuals. It’s very reasonable to guard against someone in a position of power (like a doctor) trying to get something out of a person in that power. But the reasoning is not at all clear by the time it filters down to individual friendships, which shouldn’t be power deals at all.

The result of this is that many of us end up walking round feeling like we can’t talk to anyone about the amazing things that have happened to us because... we just feel it’s not ok.

This is potentially a problem for society because if some of its citizens are experiencing something others are not aware of (especially if they think something different is going on), then the whole of society’s understanding of reality is skewed. If this unknown experience is good, most people are missing out; and if it’s bad, the general population ought to be informed.

What my friend told me may help us. He said that when you’re seeing a patient, it can often be very helpful to know more about them than just their physical symptoms. We know that as human beings we have minds, bodies, emotions etc and all effect each other. However, this can make him feel the old taboo about discussing spiritual things.

So what can he do? Well apparently, the best way to have a discussion about other taboo subjects is simply to start talking about them as if you didn’t feel the slightest bit awkward. So when – as a doctor – you have to ask a lady about ‘ladies matters’, your patient will feel fine as long as you don’t do what I just did and make it awkward!

The same, according to my friend, applies to discussing faith. If he asks a patient straight out, ‘do you have a faith that helps you?’, the patient almost always happily enters into a discussion about their spiritual beliefs. This has led to interesting conversations with many people, including a particular Muslim guy my friend had really liked. It’s enabled him to do his job better and also, I believe, help people towards knowing the person who can help us with our deepest possible sickness.

So, as we normally extend the logic of social interaction from doctor-patient relationships, let’s do the same with this. If a doctor, who has power over a patient, can legitimately open the faith conversation by asking a simple question, then so can we. People want permission to speak.

'Red Moon Rising' by Pete Grieg

I’m reading this book and its making my heart shudder.
It’s bathing my head in light.
It’s bringing me to life.
I’m remembering my passion, like leaves in spring.
How long have I been asleep?

I used to check out the 24-7 website in the computer room at college. We used to stack the mammoth pew chairs for an hour so we could sweep the old sanctuary with art. We used to pump Sigur Ros through a bought-in PA as the house music. We used to walk around Shirley dreaming of our next project – making a record in an old house, in a week; our prayer wall; moshing and laughing and witnessing at school til the teacher moved me to the front.

I’d forgotten what heady times they were. The creativity. The opportunity. The community. Walking back from the Douglases. Talking outside our house for hours. You know, I’m beginning to think it wasn’t such a waste of time after all.

I guess the reason it all worked was because we loved Jesus. We loved Jesus and we loved each other. I guess we’re struggling because the cloud moved and we didn’t move too. I guess I don’t feel the same because I spend too much time on my own. Because there’s no one I’m dreaming with. Because I love mercy but I love creativity too.

Oh how we need to dream!
When we just banter we look backwards later and wonder where promises go.
We just survived this year.
We just coped.
We just about kept up with commitments that grapple our throats.
We escaped from it all.
We played at church.
Nonono!
Don’t escape, engage.
Don’t banter, dream.
How can we be counter culture if we’ve lost our imagination?
How can we fight when we’re dragging our pillows?
How can we sing if we’re chewing on steak?