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”.

082517_Boyle_Greg

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.

220px-Senator_Gordon_Wilson

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. 

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Till a’ the Seas Gang Dry

She was born at 11 o’clock at night, in the Royal Hospital, just off the Falls Road in Belfast. My wee girl. No moment has ever caught my breath so much, been such an overwhelming emotional surge, as when the Nurse passed Eve to me.

A few years later, and I’m standing in another Royal Hospital maternity ward. This time, it’s Sunderland. And this time I’m being passed my gorgeous wee boy. Not a new experience now, but no less breath-taking. Joseph. The wee Mackem with a Scottish daddy, an English mummy and a Norn Irish big sister. The quintessential British family.

Recently I realised that this wasn’t a first for my family. True, on my mum’s side, we can trace our Scottish ancestry back through Henderson’s and Mackintosh’s, through Glasgow and Renfrewshire, all the way back to a little village on the northern tip of Harris in the 1700s.
But my dad was born in Birkenhead. His mammy was a wee lassie from Dumfries, and his daddy a Scouser. It was only a couple of months ago I learned for the first time that the Grandad I never met (he died when my dad was two) was also born in Belfast, to Scottish parents. Incredible.

Why should we fight for Scotland to remain part of this United Kingdom? Sure, we can talk about the risks to independence – the implications of Currency Union, the costs and uncertainties to establishing a new country, the long-term prospects for oil etc – but that’s not why I’m fighting to save the Union. I’ve no doubt that, in the long-term, Scotland could do just fine as an independent country, even if social justice would be the casualty in the short-term.

I’m fighting for the Union because we’re family. Sometimes, granted, we’re a bit of a dysfunctional family. But which family isn’t from time to time? I’m fighting for the Union because this wee island that we live on in the North Atlantic means we’re stuck with each other anyway. I’m fighting for the Union because for over 300 years it’s been a glorious experiment in the removal of national borders, and yet somehow managed to enable all of us to retain our distinctiveness. I’m fighting for this Union because I don’t want a trip back to a 19th Century past in which the Nation-State is the paradigm for how we live in community. I’m fighting for the Union because without it Scotland and England and Wales and Northern Ireland would have been competing with each other for centuries, and not co-operating.

Please Stay Scotland

There aren’t many of us who don’t have family from another part of the UK. And that’s not a product of globalisation or upward social mobility: it’s been the case for generations. The Union has broken down barriers between us, and still enabled us to be who we are. It’s Union that is the future, not division.

But we do need a different kind of Union. The shared spaces which have knitted us together – particularly the political ones – need to be reformed and refreshed. We need more subsidiarity: decision-making at a local level. We need an elected second chamber in Westminster. We need a written Constitution. We need a new electoral system, a version of proportional representation that removes the binary choices of First Past the Post. We need greater autonomy for the nations and regions, including in England. In short, we need a Federal state.

And, so long as there is a No vote on Thursday, I will be forever grateful for the Independence Referendum debate for the new energy and engagement it has injected into the democratic coma which all of us had slipped into. It’s true to say that the UK will never be the same again. Let’s take this energy and invest it in reforming our political system, renewing our bonds, getting to know each other again. But let’s do it working from a principle of Unity, not one of each to their own. Let’s remember that we really can be greater than the sum of our parts.

Because, like a lot of families, even although we don’t say it that often, we really do love each other. And I love you Scotland. You gave me birth, gave me education, gave me that stubborn streak that’s served me so well, helped me not to take myself too seriously, and gave me that accent that is a conversation starter the world over.

And I’m not ashamed to say that I love the rest of the Union too. Every part. You’ve nurtured my kids, given me work, taught me who I am as a man. I’m so thankful that I’ve been privileged to spend my life all over the UK – Glasgow, Belfast, Sunderland, London and more.

One of my favourite poets, Robert Burns, sums up my feelings in so many ways. In To a Mouse, Burns, speaking as the Ploughman who’s just turned a mouse out of its nest says:

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion,
Has broken nature’s social union,
An justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, Earth-born companion,
An fellow mortal!

It’s a stanza which for me sums up our need to live well with all, to build a world that bestows honour upon the vulnerable, and reminds us of both our shared humanity and our capacity to mess things up. We would do well to remember the words of Burns, whatever the result on Thursday.

Lets Stay Together Trafalgar Sq

In a classic track, the band Faithless capture the feeling when a relationship has gone sour. On Monday night I stood with thousands of other people from all around the Union at the Let’s Stay Together rally in Trafalgar Square as we sought to demonstrate our love for Scotland. If I may be permitted to speak for them, as well as myself, these are the words I would send to my fellow Scots, and in particular those planning to vote Yes:

You’re packing your bags like people in the movies do, all severe, not saying a word.
And I’m sitting down here just watching you and I’m thinking, where has all the love gone, where’s it all gone to? Don’t leave.
You know it’s never been easy to love someone like me.
Trying to find who am I, and what you need me to do? Don’t leave.
Where did all the love go? Where’s the love gone to? Don’t leave.
You got me hurting. Don’t leave.
You know it’s never been easy to love someone like me. Don’t leave.
Don’t know how to write a love song. Don’t leave.
You know it’s never been easy to love someone like me. Don’t leave.

And it’s not too late for this Union of ours. We can start again. If it’s possible to completely deconstruct the Union through Scottish independence and build a harmonious future, then it’s even more achievable to renew and re-build this Union which has made us who we are.

Perhaps I’ll leave my last words on my feelings for both Scotland and the Union to Burns:

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like a melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry