The subconscious inclusion of Epiphany

Nativity Christmas Card

Once a week we have prayers in our office. (I work for a Christian charity so there's a general acceptance that that's an appropriate thing to do!) Yesterday my colleague Jill took Epiphany as her theme and passed round a selection of Christmas cards which included the Magi, asking us to choose an image that resonated with us. I'll be honest: although the cards were visually quite different (and included this one, left) there wasn't really one that leapt out at me.

And yet I always find images and representations of the Magi fascinating for the simple reason that they are consistently the one element of the nativity scene (however inaccurate popular depictions of that may be) that reflects a tiny glimmer of the diversity and inclusion that sits at the heart of the Christmas story: one of the Magi is almost always depicted as a different ethnicity to the other two. The half a dozen cards which Jill offered us were drawn from a variety of time periods and cultures and yet with just one exception this observation held true.

Inclusion is at the heart of the Gospel. It's introduced in the birth narratives as God, through the angels and the star, calls shepherds and foreigners to be amongst the first witnesses to the incarnation of his Son. It's present at the crucifixion and resurrection, embodied in the women present at the cross and in the garden. It's made manifest at Pentecost when people from nations across the middle east and beyond hear and respond to that message in their own languages.

At a time when exclusion and discrimination against a whole variety of individuals and groups seems to be on the rise, Epiphany calls us to see and act on the Gospel imperative of inclusion invoked - consciously or otherwise - by generations of artists and Christmas card designers.

Belief, truth and apologising for experts

@MartinShovel

In my normal fashion I was listening to BBC4's Today programme on my drive into work this morning and over the course of the 45mins I was in the car I listened to two interviews, on very different subjects, which in their own ways cut to the heart of the post-truth, expert-hating times in which we live.

The first was with Sir Simon Fraser, a former senior civil servant and colleague of Sir Ivan Rogers, the UK Ambassador to the EU whose resignation was announced this morning. The tone and broader context of the interview was established when at the outset Fraser caveated his description of Rogers as an expert with the phrase ‘if I can use the “expert” word’.

Towards the end of the interview Mishal Hussain asked the diplomat to comment on rumours that Whitehall wanted to replace the outgoing ambassador with someone ‘pro-Brexit’. Fraser responded, ‘I think when you appoint ambassadors you don’t appoint them for what they believe, you appoint them for what they know. [Believing in Brexit] is the role of the minister; the role of the ambassador is to give advice.’

Later in the same programme John Humphrys interviewed physicist Jon Butterworth in response to an item on the existence or otherwise of dark matter. (That I have no idea what dark matter is or why its existence or otherwise is important is of no consequence here!) Asked to back one of two mutually exclusive positions, Butterworth pointed out that, ‘physics will do its thing, whatever [physicists] think.’

Belief and knowledge. Objective and subjective reality. Fact and fiction. Truth and post-truth. Welcome to 2017.


You can listen to both interviews in full here (Sir Simon Fraser is at around 1 hr 9mins and Jon Butterworth around 1 hr 35mins.

A video extract from the Sir Simon Fraser interview (which includes the longer quote above) is here.

Onwards and Upwards

Edward Monkton, Anything is Possible

At 00.14 this morning I posted the following reflection on 2016 on Facebook:

                ‘Thank goodness that’s over. Onwards and upwards…’

I’m far from alone in expressing relief that the time has finally come to draw a line under this most discombobulating of years. But that status is, inevitably, a fairly misleading summary of my feelings towards the last twelve months. In fact, on a personal level, 2016 was one of the most positive and productive years I’ve had for quite some time.

As clichéd as it might seem, turning 40 in December 2015 genuinely felt like a new start: an opportunity to draw a line under my thirties which were – particularly the latter half – pretty dreadful. It meant I started 2016 with a renewed sense of optimism and a resolve to both take and create new opportunities where they presented themselves.

This year I have lost weight (and put some back on because, you know, Christmas…), left the country (for a fortnight spent with family in Seattle), got a new job (supporting rural churches), moved into my ‘own’ house (by which I meant rented, obviously) and, as a result, started to get involved in a new church. 

Finishing the year in a much more settled state than that in which it started provides obvious opportunities to reflect and take stock. The truth is that the ‘dreadful’ few years I’ve had are nothing in comparison with the fear, trauma and displacement experienced by whole communities in war torn countries around the world.

Despite the limitations of my circumstances over the last few years I’ve never been forced to rely on food banks or been at risk of homelessness (although the extraordinary generosity I’ve received from family and friends has given me an insight into just how easy it could be for someone with a similar background to my own to find themselves at the mercy of the UK’s shrinking welfare state).

And yet I’ve been aware of some interesting markers of a growing sense of being in a much better place, particularly emotionally, than I have been for quite some time. There’s been a growing sense of feeling ‘comfortable’ and I’m grateful that the values instilled in me from my family and church community (in the widest sense) have prompted an internal alarm that warns of the complacency that can so easily follow.

But the confirmation of my sense of being in a good place came yesterday when for the first time in a while I felt bored. Properly bored. The kind of bored you feel when the basic building blocks of normal life are secure and you’re emotionally stable. The kind of bored that says, ‘right, I’m ready for what’s next’.

The last few years have taught me to sit light to plans, goals and resolutions. Yes, they can be helpful pointers, markers of the possible, but I’ve learnt that often the most important experiences, opportunities and relationships are not the ones we plan or contrive but the ones we allow room to develop unexpectedly.

In that spirit, this year I’ll be looking to invest more time and energy into being creative (whatever shape or form that might take), getting involved in gathered Christian community (including at my local church on a Sunday morning) and increasing my active engagement in politics, both locally and more widely (primarily through my relatively new membership of the Labour Party).

From a global perspective it was, in my opinion, the unexpected, the element of surprise that made 2016 such a difficult year to navigate. In contrast, some of the probable challenges of 2017 feel more obvious: the priorities and values of the ‘new’ Conservative government are increasingly clear and their practical implications worrying; President Trump will be inaugurated in less than three weeks and the scope of his policy ambitions, now hinted at will begin to become reality; the international migrant crisis and the wide-spread conflict that caused it show no sign of abating.

It’s impossible to know here and now how each or any of those issues – local and global – will impact me in the next twelve months. I do know, however, that I feel more willing and able to engage with them than I have done for quite some time, and that in itself feels like quite an achievement.