from providence to london (and beyond)

11 April 2015

Three Hours at the Cross, Yorkminster

All three of my regular readers will know by now that Good Friday is my favourite holy day. This year I attended Three Hours at the Cross in Yorkminster. The service split Chapter 15 of The Book of Mark into six sections, and six clergy preached on the section s/he read. After each sermon, an organ improvisation was played followed by mediative silence, after which the preacher offered a prayer, and we sung a hymn accompanied by the organ.

Having heard the gospels so many times over the decades, sometimes my ears no longer hear what is there. The Very Reverend Doctor Vivienne Faull preached on the soldiers mocking Jesus (Mark15:16-20), and she opened my mind to how this scene might speak to our time. My ears do hear news of war much too frequently, but on this Good Friday, Faull instead brought me stories told by individual soldiers.

One was from a soldier returning home to loving family and friends. Yet, he still felt alone trying to cope with the nightmare of war, separated from the only human beings who truly understood the experience he had suffered through. Another was by a soldier who after killing a deadly sniper was overcome with remorse, cried out for forgiveness, and vomited all over himself, not exactly the image of warfare shown in cinema. After hearing these and other stories, we reconsidered the Mark's scene from the Roman soldier's point of view: What parts of the empire were they from? How long had they been away from their loved ones? What had they witnessed that had perhaps challenged their perception of their role in humanity? Had any of them lost comrades-in-arms in the Judean revolts going on at the time? I came away struck by the contrast between the disconnected one-dimensional images that we project onto our soldiers and the individuals we trap behind these images of false bravado. I feel that Faull fostered an attitude of compassion toward our returning soldier's' plights and through the conduit of Mark 15:16-20 made that compassion a holy pursuit.

Then Reverend Canon Michael Smith preached the crucifixion (Mark 15:21-23). If Faull pried open my deaf ears, Smith fired a cannon. He used a powerful analogy that suggested we were crucifying God again and again whenever we place our small-minded limitations on God through doctrine, dogma, and especially when we used religion to reinforce our own bigotry and self-serving political aims.

My translation of Smith's reflection is that Christianity is meant to be a transformative and disruptive experience. Smith reminded me that no one, not me, not Smith, not the Archbishop, not the Pope, not the Bible can contain the infinite vastness of God and that it is a constant effort just to remember that. I ache to transcend the boundaries of my own limitations so that I can see all people in a way that I can only hope to imagine that God sees us. I fail every day, but Smith's reflection encourages me to try again tomorrow.

The image of a suffering deity is a powerful one, and much needed. Some of the preachers could not resist moving ahead to the victory of Easter in their sermons. It is no surprise because our culture is obsessed with victory and success. But for me, this one day is an opportunity to contemplate what we will do when in those inevitable times in our lives when victory is not possible. For me, this is the point of religious adherence. Art no doubt can shine a light here too, but not everyone lives with the privilege of ready access to art. And even when we do, we tend to self indulge rather than examine our own limitations.

Good Friday reminds me that there are harder things than the ones I am facing. It reminds me I live an abundant and luxurious life. It reminds me that when I soften my heart to the suffering of others, I am presented with the beautiful possibility of easing the burden of another like Simon of Cyrene did (Mark15:21), rather of just waiting for someone else to do relieve the burden (Mark15:36) or profiting from the burden (Mark15:24).

Photo Credit:

Arka Pana Crucifix

23 March 2015

Working for the NHS

For a few months in 2008, I had the pleasure of working for the National Health Service (NHS) as a locum. For those who don't know, a locum is an agency worker, often covering a temporary staff shortage for a few weeks or months. But I have never worked directly for the NHS.

As with most British institutions, it is a simultaneously loved and the subject of harsh criticism for it's imperfections. As a foreigner who has much to be grateful for, I view my recent joining the ranks of the NHS as a way to say thank you to a country that has been so very good to me.

With the nearly constant stream of criticism that the press aims at the NHS, I was bracing myself for an atmosphere of carelessness and detachment , but I am happy to report that I am surrounded by extremely passionate and dedicated professionals who are working long and hard to provide a topnotch service despite being understaffed and under resourced. I am extremely proud to be in the NHS and hope my presence will contribute to people's lives in a positive way.

Photo Credit

NHS Logo: Basildon Healthcare

1948 Leaflet: Wikipedia

01 March 2015

Driving v Train

I have never been a big fan of driving. I got a car when we moved out here because nearly every job I applied for was community based and required that I had a car. As it turned out, I got a hospital based job. Although I occasionally go out to people's homes, the job does not require that I have a car. Because my beloved is an early career academic, we could be on the move at any moment, so it seems sensible to keep the car as it significantly increases my future job prospects. So I am driving to and from work.

Fortunately, our flat comes with a parking space. But there is a problem at the other end. We both working in the centre of the Leeds and parking is not free. But I did manage to find a questionable neighbourhood about a mile and a half from work that has unpermitted parking, so I walk in from there. So I managed to circumvent a significant potential expense.

I think what I miss most about the train is the downtime it created. I used to read, write, and listen to podcasts on the train. It was great. See, when I am driving, I have to pay attention. And although I am much better than I was, I still need to be more attentive as the signage and the directions and angles that moving obstacles such as pedestrians, cyclists, and other vehicles appear to my sensibility to be in unexpected places. Not only do we drive on the left side in England, but the cars are also right hand drive, which puts the bulk of the vehicle to your left instead of to your right. For me, it makes judging exactly where the vehicle is in space a bit more conscious and less automatic. Also, in general, the roads are much narrower and the other drivers have a certain level of comfort with getting real close to other vehicles when passing that I just do not have. With all that going on, even listening to the radio can be a bit too distracting for me in city traffic. It was also quite nice in the train that someone else was paying attention of getting safely from A to B.

I really miss my downtime. Driving has really cut into my reading, writing, and podcast listening.

One nice thing about the car is that we live five minutes drive from some nice country roads, and the wife and I will often go on a Sunday drive. These pictures are from those. While I'd hire a car in a heartbeat to drive to Stratford-upon-Avon or London for a weekend, I doubt I would do so for a 40 minute drive. So the Sunday drive is definitely an advantage in the car's favour.

Photo Credits

My beloved wife

31 January 2015

Get a job!

Over seven years ago when we arrived on these shores, I found a job in two interviews in less than two weeks. That experience misled me to believe I could repeat that performance at any time. I lost track of the number of interviews I got in 3 months. While it was fantastic to have that much interest, it was still incredibly stressful being unemployed in a society where worthiness is measured by price tags and purchasing power. How easily self worth slips away with net worth. I wish I could hold onto that feeling of just getting a new job. I am so grateful, and I am at my best when I am in the midst of sincere gratitude, which is a challenge to maintain amidst adverts (sometimes disguised as news) that encourage us to covet and to fear. How quickly my confidence fled when I joined the ranks of the unemployed, the discarded scourge of civilisation. It sure feels good to be back in employment.

Photo Credits

Bobby & Luanne: car-memes.com

Employed: extrapetitemom.blogspot.com

06 January 2015

Epiphany: not a stop on the Red Line

I think it was 1991. At the time that it happened, I did not connect this experience with the divine, but there was no doubt of its transcendence. It was a Saturday. I was taking the above ground portion of the Red Line after visiting a very generous friend. We watched Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure on laser disc. I got on the train and sat on the left side of the car. I looked over at the only other passenger, a shabbily dressed man. It was sunset. Imperceptibly, my presence expanded through the things touched by the rays of the setting sun: starting with me, then the man, and the car, and the rest of the train, and the trees next to the tracks, and the buildings beyond them, and the water beyond that, and through to the sun itself… until, with the rays shining in every direction, I was one with the universe beyond. It all happened in less than an instant, and just like that, I could sense everything altogether and at once. There was no transition: I was in the train, I was everywhere, I was back in the train. But there was a residual, a benevolent residual. I could remember being everywhere. It was so beautiful. The residual was quite strong at first. I was beaming with joy, and I felt very connected with my fellow passenger. It was like a half life kind of thing… each minute, the residual was half the strength of what it was the minute before. And although in the din of day-to-day activities I can easily forget that this epiphany is part of me, it is there even decades later. Because even though it is continuing to weaken by half with each passing minute, it will never entirely disappear.

It only occurred to me quite recently that what I mean when I say divine is more along the lines of this experience on the Red Line than it is about some easy to articulate set of assertions that comes nowhere near the impossible to describe wonder that is our sentience. In this experience, I did not find myself in the midst of an all-knowing, all-powerful entity. It was more like a fantastic, magnificent, mysterious, uncertain, powerlessness reaching far beyond the concept of entity. It may have been God.