A Humble Meal

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How does Hairy Crab sound to you as an appetizer? Or Sea Slug? A bite of Toad on a Stick maybe? Anyone for Upturned Turtle Soup?

These are all dishes that I was honoured to eat when I would travel to mainland China in a former job. I say ‘honoured’ because these were all dishes that I was invited to partake in as an honoured guest.

Chinese culture places a great deal of weight in hierarchy and respect, and the guest with the most hierarchical seniority is placed literally in the place of honour, particularly when it comes to dining. I have to say that, as lovely as the intent was, I could sometimes have done without the honour when it came to being the first person to tuck into whichever delicacy was the order of the day!

This idea may seem alien to us, but as codified and defined as this Chinese culture of honour is, we have our own, more informal equivalent in British culture. Often, we give the place of honour to the person who appears like they have their life together most; the businessman in a sharp suit, or the young woman wearing haute couture, the local celebrity or dignitary. This ‘honouring’ might play itself out in who we choose to speak to on public transport, who we sit next to on a park bench, or how we receive someone who comes through the door of one of our projects. This is something we all do at times; it’s our in-built, human default.

In our work at Oasis Community Housing we strive for a higher standard. Out of our value of Worth comes a viewpoint that all people are equally valuable, regardless of what appearances or social standing suggests. From this belief comes the practice of humility both in how we view ourselves and others.

In the Bible, James the brother of Jesus implores the early Church to outwork this view of humility, saying;

“If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” (James 2, v 3-4).

And the practice of humility is not only a standard for how we should treat others. It’s also a healthy lens through which we can understand ourselves. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who served the poorest of the poor ‘untouchables’ for decades in India, and yet rubbed shoulders with Kings and Presidents said:

“If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are.” 

It’s pride which gets in the way of this humility. It’s pride which, in the words of C.S. Lewis,

“…has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began.”

When we recognise pride in anyone, it is often the least attractive form of the human condition. It’s why so many were drawn to Nelson Mandela, and why so many are put off by President Trump today. Pride says ‘it’s my contribution and mine only which matters’. Humility says,

‘I am not the answer in myself’.

As an organisation with a Christian ethos, we try to remember that Jesus washed his follower’s feet – a grimy, lowly task normally reserved for the person of least status in any gathering. This humility, this service, is the kind of leadership that each of us should aspire to.

It’s a service that I was humbled to  see illustrated literally and powerfully recently by one of our volunteers, Liz, in Basis Sunderland:

Washing the disciple's feet

This standard of behaviour is something that, as the Chief Executive of OCH, I have often fallen well short of. Pride (in my case often manifesting as stubbornness) can get the better of all of us from time to time. Thankfully, humility is the antidote to pride, a medicine which banishes the symptoms. And humility becomes comes alive in the service of others. As Rev Martin Luther King Jr said:

“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”

 

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Brexit & Standing in Awe

As the axiom goes, we should always “Walk a mile in another person’s shoes. Because then you’ll be a mile away and you’ll have their shoes”. At least, I’m sure it’s something along those lines.

Perhaps Father Gregory Boyle expresses the sentiment better when he says,

“…the ultimate measure of health in any community might well reside in our ability to stand in awe at what folks have to carry, rather in judgement at how they carry it”.

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In a time when our country seems riven with judgement, disagreement and even hatred over Brexit, the message of forgiveness can itself be hard to bear. If you’re like me, my reserves of understanding and graciousness have rarely ran so low.

Much of our time at Oasis Community Housing is spent walking in the shoes of the people that we serve: whether-in-one to one sessions, group work, training, doing interviews and case studies, or just lending a listening ear for someone who needs to be heard. We seek to understand.

As we do so, we hear tales of abandonment and trauma, of abuse and hopelessness, of wilful ignorance and neglect. In these circumstances, it’s hard not to become angry, particularly with those who have perpetrated such cruelty on the person who sits in front of us. If we’re honest with ourselves, there are times when we also feel angry or hurt by the behaviour of those we’re serving, whether towards others or towards us.

And there is a place for this. There is nothing wrong with righteous anger against injustice. Equally, we should not be required to accept or tolerate hurtful behaviour which is directed at us, even when it’s coming from a place of brokenness.

But we also know that when we hold onto anger, over time it corrodes and destroys. And then we become the victim, the broken, the abandoned.

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There has been a lot of talk about Northern Ireland in the Brexit debate, and you may know the story of Gordon Wilson. Gordon became famous in 1987 when he and his daughter were caught up in the IRA bombing of the war memorial in Enniskillen on Remembrance Day. 60 people were badly injured that day, and 11 killed, including Gordon’s daughter Marie. The following day, Gordon gave an interview to the BBC which went around the world, recounting their last moments together under the rubble:

“She held my hand tightly and gripped me as hard as she could. She said, ‘Daddy, I love you very much’. Those were her exact words to me and those were the last words I ever heard her say.”

“But I bear no ill will. I bear no grudge. Dirty sort of talk is not going to bring her back to life. She was a great wee lassie. She loved her profession. She was a pet. She’s dead. She’s in heaven and we shall meet again. I will pray for these men tonight and every night.”

What a horrendous situation to be in. Placed in a similar scenario, as a father, I think I would be consumed by rage. But Gordon Wilson chose another path. The outcome to his response of forgiveness was a genuinely seminal moment of change in the Northern Irish Troubles. His words reverberated around the islands of Ireland and Great Britain, and then around the world. I still remember watching them on the evening news as a ten year-old and being astounded by his grace. In retrospect, they made a huge contribution to the Northern Irish peace process.

It strikes me that Jesus also spent 33 years walking in the shoes of human experience, and he understood what it is to be hurt more than most. As a Christian, when I think of Forgiveness, I often think of his words to the assembled crowd as he hung on the Cross; “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” What a revolutionary statement. One that changes everything.

Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces in the universe – both in eternity and in the here and now. Just as unforgiveness and anger can tear it apart, Forgiveness can transform our world for the good. It may be an unpopular message right now, but our country – we – need forgiveness more than ever.