I am and you are

Those of you with particularly good memories might remember that way back in November I wrote a poem inspired by the "I am statements" in John's gospel. (http://www.stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2011/11/artistic-interlude.html) This second poem and painting, inspired by the same verses along with one of my personal favourites "I have come that you may have life in all its fullness" (John 10:10) is maybe a little more abstract, but if you search for them, I hope you might be able to identify references to all seven "I am" images: the good shepherd, the gate, the bread of life, the way the truth and the life, the resurrection and the life, the vine, and the light of the world.

I am

And you are

Walk my way

Living is being

Called by name

Called to be you

Called in to shelter

Called out to shine

With the light of love

Called to have life

In all its fullness

I in you

You in me

A vine, intertwined

Together

Living

And being

Loving because I am

Loved because you are

Giving myself

Still, I am

Give of yourself

Even more

You will be

I am

And you are

Come,

Go,

Love,

And live!

(John 6:35; 8:12; 10:7; 10:14; 11:25; 14:6; 15:1)

A window on our world

In sharp contrast to our two years in France, where we welcomed many visitors and visited many friends, our social contact this year has lacked the variety we have perhaps come to take for granted; and our opportunities to host visitors have been distinctly limited: which is not to say it has not been a sociable year; it has. Part of our motivation in coming here was an exploration of life in community, and I enjoy sitting down each day to community meals and having a routine of regular community prayers. Our work at TVED is in no small part a social role. As much as ever, we spend a lot of time with other people, the difference from past years being that they are always the same people. It is an interesting reflection that this in some ways intense community experience involves spending nine months with a group of people who, when we say goodbye in a couple of months, there is a strong chance we will not see again.

One of the things we loved about living on the edge of Paris was how many people came and spent time with us: it made me feel very popular, even if the Eiffel Tower was the real attraction, rather than me! We knew this year we were unlikely to receive anywhere near as many visitors (if any at all), and were delighted when one friend decided to make the trip. It was a particular pleasure to welcome Janet when she headed half way round the world to join us during her Easter holidays: I only hope she enjoyed her visit as much as I did. Aside from lots of long conversations putting the world to rights, some extra help in a few lessons, and an excuse to be tourists for a few days; welcoming another European visitor was also a reminder to look again at the world which surrounds us here. A reminder that many of the little things which have just become part of our daily reality are actually very alien and different. An opportunity to reflect again on our experience and open our eyes anew to our environment. Which is as good an excuse as any to publish some photos of our local area, hopefully opening a window, albeit a small one, into our world:

Janet is in the process of publishing her reflections on her trip which can be read here: http://jeepneyskaraokemutantcoconut.blogspot.co.uk if you are interested in a different perspective on Cebu.

Island Hopping

The Philippines is made up of more than 7000 islands, and we have no intention of ticking them all off during our time here, but a couple of recent trips have taken our total to 7.

After a late night on Easter eve for the post-vigil karaoke session, we were up early the next morning for a return trip to Bohol, the island we visited after Christmas. We would be back in the classroom on the Tuesday so spent just one night in the jungle hideaway of Nuts Huts. Although it wouldn’t always be convenient, I do approve of places you can only reach on foot: it gives a certain satisfaction to arriving! Not that we were energetic all the time: there was a lot of sitting admiring the view; but we did also kayak up stream to the nearby waterfalls, where, somewhat to my own surprise, I managed to get back into the kayak without capsizing it after a swim in the refreshingly cool plunge pool.

A week later we were back at the port, this time heading to the fabled city of Dumaguete on Negros. Fabled, because, home to one of the other Salesian communities in the Philippines South province, Dumaguete is spoken of with great love by the community here, all of whom would quite like to be assigned there ... and after a couple of days, it was easy to see why it might be a more popular place to stay than Cebu. A much smaller city than Cebu, Dumaguete is quieter, calmer and altogether more attractive. Appeal undoubtedly added to by its sea front promenade and beach, sea you could happily swim in, and spectacular countryside in easy striking distance, including the 30m Casaroro falls. Less accessible since typhoon Sendong destroyed the access path and bridge, it was well worth the scramble over the rocks and through the river to find them.

During our stay on Negros we also added another island to our list, with a day trip to the tiny but idyllic Apo Island. Apart from a brief trip up to the centre of the island we spent the day on the beach and in the perfect blue sea. Neither words, nor photos can really do it justice; and not owning a waterproof camera, you will just have to take my word for the beauty of the underwater world of the coral reef, with its colourful fish and most amazing of all the turtles with whom we swam through the coral.

And if you were wondering, yes, this blog post was really just an excuse to share some holiday photos. 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

After a fortnight without updating my blog, the longest gap since arriving in the Philippines 200 days ago, I have plenty to catch up on, beginning with a greeting:

Happy Easter!

For anyone who is thinking it is already a little late for such a greeting, I disagree. With the Easter season lasting 50 days, I am well within my rights to still be celebrating the resurrection.

It strikes me as significant that in the church calendar, the season of Easter lasts for longer than the forty day period of Lenten fasting which precedes it. This is, to my mind, no mistake and no coincidence: the period of celebration should surpass, not only in time but also in magnitude, the suffering before it. It is sad that all too often, Easter is reduced to one day of gorging on chocolate to mark the end of a time of fasting, rather than being lived as an extended time of joyful celebration. With or without karaoke, Easter should be a party which exhilarates and inspires, and one which lasts.

This is my faith. A faith where joy and celebration outweigh sacrifice and suffering. A faith where self-giving gives birth to the greater joy of loving and living together; and where limitations only serve to engender the deeper freedom of fulfilling true desires.

This is my faith. A faith where eternal life is not a reward for a life of duty to be laboured for and looked forward to, but is a reality to be lived here and now in the fulfilment on each new day.

This is my faith. A faith which encompasses Lent, certainly, but where Lent is immeasurably surpassed by Easter joy.

This is my faith. A faith of resurrection and of life.

Happy Easter!

A day of emptiness

Today is Holy Saturday and God is dead.

It is a time of sadness, grieving and desolation.

This week is the biggest week of the church year, and lived and experienced as it should be, it is a roller coaster of an emotional journey. Sandwiched between the suffering of Good Friday and the joy of Easter, the risk is that Holy Saturday becomes little more than a rest day in the midst of a busy liturgical time, or a day of preparation and getting ready for Easter.

But maybe Holy Saturday is an important moment in its own right. This space between crucifixion and resurrection matters.

Most of our liturgy, most of our faith is a celebration of God's presence. Immanuel, God is with us. The incarnation is about God becoming one of us, becoming closer to humanity by becoming part of humanity. And it is right that God's presence with us is the primary focus of our church, our liturgy, our faith.

But what about today?

It is also the incarnation, the same incarnation of God with us, that, at this point, brings us to an intense experience of the absence of God, of a sense of desolation and separation. Today is the only day of the church year when we commemorate not God's presence, but his absence. Written into the calendar of a faith built on God's presence is a day when God is absent. It is a day of emptiness and absence: which presents a challenge we are perhaps tempted to shy away from.

Of course, we know this is not the end of the story. Inherent in the emptiness of Holy Saturday is the anticipation of what is to come. The end of the story never changes. Because of this anticipation, the absence and desolation we feel cannot equal that of the first disciples who really did experience, in the depth of their beings, turning upside down their entire existence, the Death of God; who lived this time as a moment of total absence of consolation and hope.

There is nothing wrong with anticipation. But maybe today is about more than just looking forward to the resurrection, or even back to the crucifixion. Maybe it is too easy to empty today of its meaning, by looking somewhere else or; by pre-anticipating the end of the story and denying this as a time when God is dead.

But maybe today is about stopping and looking in. Maybe today, in the midst of the preparation and anticipation for the resurrection, we need to find time to experience and in some way we don't fully understand, to appreciate the absence of God.

After all, it is this absence and desolation which makes an explosion of joy possible at Easter. It is this emptiness which creates the space for new life to be possible.

Today you will be with me in paradise

As promised, another poem for Good Friday. The footprint on the accompanying picture, incidentally, has nothing to do with yesterday's post. Rather it is part of a (currently incomplete) way of the cross. 

Contrary to what is sometimes suggested, the men crucified either side of Jesus are unlikely to have been common criminals or petty thieves. Crucifixion was a punishment reserved for those the Roman Empire saw as a threat to itself, and let us make no mistake, Pilate may have washed his hands, but Jesus’ message of equality for the poor and freedom from oppression was definitely a threat, even if it was preached in love and peace and without violence. It was a threat to the empire, in the same way that Ghandi’s peaceful march to the shore to make salt was a threat to the British Empire in India, and the same way Martin Luther King’s demand for equality was a threat to the establishment in the USA, but I digress.

The point is this, those who are with Jesus in his final moments of human life, those who take up their cross and carry it with him, those who do not abandon him even when all his closest friends have fled, are not just any old criminals. In all likelihood, they were Zealots, the Jews who had taken up arms to try to expel the Roman occupiers. They are those who, at least in part, share his convictions. They share his convictions of freedom from oppression, even if they have chosen the wrong route, to try to share their message, resorting to the violent tools used by the oppressors themselves.

Small wonder, perhaps, that it is to one hanging on a cross beside him that Jesus promises, “You will be with me in paradise”. The ‘repentant criminal’ may not have fully understood the gospel, in the face of hatred and hardship he may have resorted to those same tools of violence, he may not have lived a full and true life of love; but he knew that standing against oppression was worth dying for, and he did.

“Today you will be with me in Paradise”

Abandoned by those he shared his life with

Abandoned as they run away in fear

Abandoned but not yet alone

Those you might not expect remain near

He offered love and consolation

But there is a challenge in being his friend

Take up your cross and follow

Walk this road with me to the end

But somehow when it came to the moment

It was others who were at his side

A man of love between men of violence

As he suffered, as he died

Those other nail-scarred hands

Whose wounds cut just as deep

Whose pain is just as real

Whose friends look on, whose families weep

A fighter against injustice

The courage of a cause that is right

Standing firm in the face of aggression

How sad he chose weapons to fight

To fight against oppression

He chose the oppressor’s way

He raised his hand in violence

He let night be stronger than day

Can love be preached with a sword?

Freedom brought through the barrel of a gun?

Injustice can’t be beaten by violence

But with love the battle can be won

But he saw in that other a hero

A shared conviction, and message to tell

A different route of humble innocence

Let me walk that way as well

The same message against oppression

A shared truth they both believed

Give life to the poor and the outcast

Thus a gospel of truth is weaved

Did he realise in that moment

As violence scarred his flesh

That another way was better

Was it too late to start afresh?

A violent death expected

Maybe a violent death justified

He too chose weapons of destruction

So from violence had no place to hide

But he embraced the other’s innocence

With arms stretched wide on that tree

When you come into your kingdom

Please, Jesus, Remember me

You too have seen the injustice

You too have paid the price

The answer, ever loving

Today, join me in paradise

On Holy Ground

This week has been marked by the sad demise of my sandals, and after seven and a half years it is time to take them off for the last time. As I do so, inspired by something I was asked to write a few months ago, the verse “Take off your shoes for this is holy ground”, God’s call to Moses from the burning bush, comes to mind. Appropriate, perhaps, that I should be writing this post today when God again calls his disciples to remove their shoes. There is a symbolism of service as Jesus washes his disciples feet, but maybe also a reminder that this ground, this place of encounter, this shared meal, this experience of the every day, is our Holy Ground. A recognition of this place as Holy Ground is the context in which self-giving service becomes a reality.

The death of my sandals, originally bought for our trip to Peru in 2004 is a chance to reflect on some of the Holy Ground they, and I have walked on these past few years. All told, my sandals and I have covered a good few miles (and that’s without counting the miles it has been far too cold to cover in sandals!).

Iquitos in the Amazon jungle was my first experience of visiting a very different and considerably poorer part of the world and my time there undoubtedly contributed significantly to where I am today. Since leaving the Amazon jungle, my Holy Ground has spread out to cover quite a few places in the UK and Europe, as well as a few further afield.

I have walked on Holy Ground in many parts of the UK and Europe surrounded by natural beauty (and sometimes manmade ugliness). I have walked on Holy Ground in Cuba, where despite the imperfections and abuses, there is evidence of a semi-successful attempt to work with a model different to the dominant god of Capitalism. I have walked on Holy Ground in the Philippines, first in the North meeting producers of recycled, far-trade products and being inspired by the reality of making a difference (www.fairgrounds.org.uk) and now here in Cebu. I have walked in Taizé, where the Holiness is tangible, holy ground I walk away from each time refreshed and renewed.

My journey across my Holy Ground is a journey which has taken me to a lot of different places in a lot of different ways. It is a journey that has taken me far from home as well as to more familiar surroundings. It is a journey over ground which is easy to recognise as holy, and ground where you have to search for holiness. It is a journey of walking to meet many, many friends old and new. It is a journey which has opened my eyes to different realities and moved me to new places. It is a journey of growth and change (although not of shoe size, fortunately!) My holy ground is truly a complex patchwork of places, people and experiences.

It is a journey I feel hugely privileged to be walking. All of this is my Holy Ground, and with a new pair of sandals, it is time to keep on walking.

7 last words

My plan was to put this poem up next Friday but I have now almost finished writing another poem, also on a Good Friday related theme, and thought two in one day would be excessive, so have brought this one forward a week: which seemed more appropriate than delaying it and putting it up during the Easter season.

The Philippines is famous for its Holy Week commemorations, particularly people nailing themselves to crosses although that only happens in one place, and nowhere near Cebu, so that's one cultural experience we won't be taking part in. It remains to be seen how Holy Week will be celebrated here, although so far Lent has been remarkable only by how unremarkable it has been. Other than purple stoles and no meat on Fridays, (and as we often eat fish anyway that's hardly worthy of much note), there has been little to mark out lent from the rest of the year .. but we shall see what this week brings.

Anyway, a few fruits of my own Lenten reflections:

Father forgive them, they do not know what they are doing

Do they know?

This pain inflicted

Not with nails

But with oppressive domination

Do they know?

Their violence

Cannot silence the voice of love

In truth I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise

Where am I going?

to death

Or new life

Where is this paradise?

Is it as you expect?

It is here on this cross

Journey with me

Woman this is your son. This is your mother.

Open your doors

Open your hearts

One to another

Be a family

Be my family

Be one

Share my love

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me

Alone and abandoned

Only I can live this moment

Only I can die this moment

Not forsaken

But dying to this world

Dying as humanity

Dying as God

I am thirsty

I thirst

In the depths of my humanity

I thirst

Not for the bitter wine of my pain

I thirst

For the living water

Of love outpoured

It is fulfilled

Is this what the promises promised?

Is this what the prophets saw?

Is this what you sought when you followed?

It is the only way

Fulfilment found

In love

To the point of death

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

I give my spirit

I give my all

Offered to the world

Offered to the hands of God

Offered in love

Take what I offer

I say no more

And you

What will you say?

I lift up my eyes to the hills

One of the many activities which make up the TVED programme is the "Youth Encounter" a three day retreat (encountering themselves, each other and God) which takes place in the "Don Bosco House of Peace" in Mantalongon. Each of the last three Fridays a group of students has set off, and each of the last three Saturdays, after our lessons finish, we have set off to join them, staying the night and returning with the students on Sunday afternoon. It has been a welcome break from the somewhat mundane routine of planning, teaching and marking, and also been very positive to spend some time with the students outside the classroom.

Mantalongon is about a three hour drive from Cebu, including the last half hour or so up a steep and only partially paved mountain road. For some of the students, who have never left Cebu city, it is a major adventure. For us, currently living on the opposite side of the world and accustomed to travelling fairly extensively around Britain and the rest of Europe, talking to some of the students gave a real insight into how small their world is. We talk about the world shrinking because of technology and transport, but for some of our students the world is very small in a completely different way, and the world outside that still seems like a very, very big place.

Being in the mountains, Mantalongon is noticeably cooler than Cebu, which for us has been a welcome respite for the ever-increasing summer temperatures; and for the students has brought another novelty: feeling cold. By British standards, it would hardly be described as cold, but then we do have glass in our windows, central heating and appropriate jumpers, coats and shoes.

The middle weekend was notably marked by my overnight battle with a very hungry mosquito, which I lost, spectacularly, meaning I spent the following two days looking like I'd been in a fight with my face so swollen that keeping my eyes open required physical effort. The swelling had gone down by Tuesday allowing me to count the 32 bites! For this weekend's trip, duly armed with an extra weapon in the form of insect repellant, it was my turn to come out on top!

Each Sunday morning we have been awake at 4.30am to be out and hiking up the nearby Mercado Peak by 5am. It has been a very pleasant change to be somewhere cool enough to go for a walk of a reasonable length at a reasonable pace. The top of the mountain is the location for photo taking, breakfast and individual silent prayer. Each week, the weather for these morning excursions has been gradually improving. The first week we sat on the mountain top buffeted by wind and rain, with some students believing they might die of cold.  The rain held off for our second climb, but any sort of view was shrouded in cloud. Third time lucky, for our final trip, the weather was perfect: still cool enough to be pleasant but bright with just a light breeze, meaning when we reached the top of our climb a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and the sea were spread out beneath us.

With the sessions mostly conducted in Cebuano, I can't really comment on the content of the retreat, but I know enough to know that the whole experience is something the students won't forget, and, in spite of the very uncomfortable bus rides, and not having had a lie in or day off for a month, it's something I am very glad we were a part of.

In their own words, part 2

You may remember that a while back I posted numerous quotes from the brochures for TVED which the senior students wrote for their English group assignment. Along with the written task, part two of that project was to produce and perform a television advert promoting TVED.

The quality, as you might imagine, varied considerably, as did the amount of effort the students put in to their production (not everybody made their own set of chalices from cardboard and silver foil, or paper ties colour-coded for the different courses, or borrowed uniforms from the students on other courses). It has taken me a while to get round to it, video editing is a time consuming process, but here are the edited highlights of what were probably the best three.

What we take for granted, part 4

It is now summer in Cebu. I'm not sure why the Philippines has its summer in March and April, but it does. TVED are still hard at work, but the main school broke up last Friday for the long summer break and the college will be ending their term soon too.

But although it is now summer, there aren't many indicators of the passing of the year and the changing of the seasons. It may be the hottest time of the year, but it hasn't exactly been cool the rest of the time, and the temperature increase is fairly negligible. The length of the days has changed slightly, but the shift from darkness falling at about 5.30, to about 6pm is insignificant enough to be barely noticeable.

In some ways, I have really enjoyed missing a winter. I have enjoyed not having to wrap up in endless layers to step outside. I have enjoyed swimming in the sea when I know friends back home are curled up by the radiator.

That said, there is a rhythm created by the passing of the seasons that just isn't as marked here. The year is passing by, but there is little to differentiate this month from the last. We might not like winter much, but maybe we do take for granted the variety of the seasons and the way it structures our experience of the passing of time. We might not like winter much, but it does allow us to appreciate spring.

Don't get me wrong, on those days next winter (of which I'm sure there will be many) when it scarcely seems to get light all day, where the wind whips your face and when although it is not exactly raining you end up soaked to the bone only minutes after stepping outside, I will be dreaming of a Filipino December.

But the crunching of autumn leaves beneath the feet, a bright, crisp day with a sparkling frost (and then coming in and snuggling up with a duvet), buds of leaves and blossom and the first daffodils, long summers evenings where the sun shines until way past bedtime. Maybe these are things I will appreciate just a little bit more next year.

Literacy and literature

I am a great lover of literacy and literacy teaching, so designing a literacy curriculum from scratch ought to be my dream job: and I am enjoying putting together an appropriate and adapted programme for our students. I am, because I am a bit of a grammar geek, enjoying organising the progression of skills and finding ways to explain at least some of the complexities and subtleties of the English language. But there is one thing that has made planning the curriculum here less fun than it might have been ... there are no books.

I have never taught literacy without books before, and, if I am honest, I wouldn't want to again. Being here has only served to reinforce in my mind (as if that were needed) that literacy and literature are and should be inseparably intertwined. I am sad enough to think that grammar can be fun and that playing with words is endlessly stimulating, but it is more fun in real books than in an abstract form. 

Part of the reason for the lack of books is financial, and my best laid plans of photocopying texts were also stymied by financial restrictions on paper, but the subject matter and expected outcomes also squeeze out the potential for literature in our literacy. The English curriculum here is teaching "functional literacy skills" - the English the students will need to survive in the workplace - so they can write an application letter, but we never write a story, they can read a set of instructions but not play with words in poetry. It is a sad reality that function has squeezed out fiction.

Don't get me wrong, I agree language should be functional. Its primary purpose is to enable communication and it is a great joy to me that, as an English speaker, language opens up a whole world of potential friendships, but I can't help feeling that language is also so much more. Yes, some would argue, linguistics is a science, but language itself is definitely an art: and like all the best art it should communicate something certainly, but also provoke questions and move you to new places, it should inspire thought and invoke emotions. It should be beautiful, which even the most well written CV, well, isn't.

There are interesting further reflections beyond our own educational circle. In the bookshops in Cebu the vast majority of the books are written in English, and the remaining small section is of Tagalog books: neither of which are the first language of our students and the population of Cebu. Cebuano exists primarily as an oral language, meaning you have to be relatively fluent in a second or third language before really being able to read at all. It makes for a culture much less literacy based and much less literature based than our own. Being able to read and having access to more books than I could get through in a lifetime, in my first language is yet another thing I take for granted.

So although I hope our students will speak and write English more fluently by the time we move on from here, and although I hope they will be in some way inspired to continue learning and exploring the language, I can't help feeling a little sad that in its functionality maybe we aren't doing justice to the beauty of language. 

So I encourage you to go, read a good book, a book that inspires, a book that is beautiful.

What we take for granted, part 3

We seem to be, at least briefly, in a period of relative routine at the moment, meaning our lives are dominated by planning, teaching and marking, which is, primarily, what we are here to do. Hopefully, by the time we leave, the students we teach will be marginally better at maths, and marginally more confident English speakers, and perhaps more importantly we will have written a teaching programme adapted to their situation and needs which will be able to be taught here after we leave.

Maybe because it is something of which we all have first hand experience, maybe because deep down we all recognise its central importance, education is something which generally incites interest and comment from, well, just about everybody. It is something that I, as a teacher, am of course very interested in, so prolonged contact with the education system here has given me plenty of food for thought.

On a global scale, the Philippines track record on education is fairly reasonable. Free, public school education is widely available and over 90% of children finish primary school, many of whom also complete high school. A system of state "night high schools" running in the evenings for students who have to work during the day, extends opportunities to those who might otherwise be outside the system. A closer look at the figures does show that the near 100% completion rate in Manila distorts the figures which range downwards to only about 30% in parts of rural Mindanao, but even so, the figures here are not as bleak as in numerous other countries.

All of the students we teach have made it through the basic education system, and emerged as high school graduates. For some, this in itself is a considerable achievement. TVED is the next stage, an opportunity for further education, which is the educational domain dominated here by private institutions and therefore for many students, including ours, prohibitively expensive.

As can be expected in any education setting, the ability of our students varies widely. Natural intelligence, of course, has a role to play. That said, as students who have "graduated" from high school the number who lack even the very basic skills is astonishing. How have so many of our students reached their late teens or early twenties unable to do simple calculations? Why did I spend a session teaching a 24 year old to count backwards on his fingers, something he appeared never to have seen before?

I haven't actually visited any public schools. I am sure some of them are doing an incredibly good job with very limited resources. I am sure there are some outstanding teachers striving to their very best for students in circumstances I have never had to contemplate. Obviously I don't know the many issues and questions which contribute to the difficulties of the Philippine Education System, nor is it, really, my place to judge. That said, I suspect an inability to fund the education system as fully as is needed, leading to huge class sizes and limited resources is probably a factor. I also doubt that the education system is exempt from the endemic corruption for which the Philippines is renowned. I have no easy-fix solution to offer, but it is certainly true that, whatever the causes and whatever the solutions, a lot of young people are being failed by this system.

Meanwhile, I certainly have no illusions about the British education. I do not think it is perfect. I wear no rose-tinted glasses. In fact, like most teachers, I can quickly identify many of its flaws and have experienced first hand its many frustrations. Our system's insistence on a results driven syllabus which can be measured by how many students can tick a certain box, and the valuing of individual academic achievements at the expense of everything else are, in my eyes at least, barriers to achieving perfection: the perfection of a system which inspires every student with a love of learning and a sense of their own inherent worth.

And yes, I know there are children who have been, and who continue to be failed by British education, which, in one of the most "developed" nations in the world, remains a scandal.

But somehow, I'm not sure we always appreciate enough just how good we have got it. So, even with a Conservative government claiming that I "am happy with failure" because I think academies are a really bad idea, even with Michael Gove at the helm of Education; we do still have an education system of which we should be proud. Not proud so we don't strive for something better, but proud so we don't forget to appreciate what we already have.

And why did he die?

It is Ash Wednesday, and as this is a time for repenting sins rather than committing them, I won't lie and say I have written this poem especially for the occasion. In between teaching, marking and unsuccessful trips to the immigration office, I haven't had a lot of time this week. However, in true Blue Peter style "here is one I made earlier" and today seemed like an appropriate moment to share this peom, and its accompanying picture.

And why did he die?

As he kneels in fervent prayer

To a God he knows as Abba

A prayer that asks for an easier road

But knows nothing hurts like love

With a cry of deepest anguish

What depths of suffering humanity

And what did he do? And why did he die?

As the lash cuts deep in flesh

And his heart is torn apart

The pain of divided communities

And of those who society excludes

With a cry of searing pain

What deep scars mark his soul

And what did he do? And why did he die?

As he wears his thorny crown

And calls for a different authority

A fight fought without weapons

As he stands against oppression

With a cry of hidden glory

What painful kingship this

And what did he do? And why did he die?

As he dares to lift this burden

And offer the gift of freedom

The release from violent force

And the possibility of life to the full

With a cry of torturous effort

What heavy burdens borne

And what did he do? And why did he die?

As his arms stretch wide in love

To live love and forgiveness to the end

A gesture of poverty and weakness

But with the hidden strength of God

With a cry of final abandonment

What vulnerability of love

And what did he do? And why did he die?

I wish you all a reflective and fruitful season of lent.

In their own words

Recently, we set our students a group project in English, to produce a brochure and TV advert for TVED. Here in their own words (but with a few spelling and grammatical errors corrected) is what some of the students have to say about their school:

“All I can say is it’s the best training I ever experienced. The training centre conducts an orientation to test how determined you are about studying here in Don Bosco. The student must be poor and interested to study because if you are poor there are scholarships to be offered.”

“TVED department has low tuition fees and it is a good school for me because they train you well and give you the opportunity that you are looking forward for.”

“I’m so glad when I was “in” because my first dream came true. Don Bosco teaches mostly about the values and morality and the spiritual things. He encouraged mostly the poor children and the young who are in bad ways.”

“The orientation is a kind of endurance that will measure or test the determination of the applicants if they are willing to be part of the team as Bosconians. Most of the challenges are to test your patience. It is also to measure your creativeness, attitudes and strength, to help us know if you are really capable to be a Bosconian.”

"If you are qualified to become a Bosconian you always remember the saying of the Bosconians, not only to remember it but to do it be a good Christian and honest citizen.”

“TVED is a training centre that teaches skills such as technical and intellectual and being here every day is worth it because you are learning new things every hour of the day”

“Like St John Bosco they teach young people the knowledge that they could use in life and to improve their skills like technical skills and also in sports, in using musical instruments like guitar, flute, beat-box, organ and drums.”

“There are many courses that TVED offers like IE, MT, HST and WFT. TVED has 200 plus students, 8 instructors, 2 teachers from England, 1 training coordinator and 1 training director. For me TVED is the best vocational training center because they have time about God like every morning has a mass except Saturday”

“After we log in we went to the chapel to have a mass. When the mass is ended the next task is chores. It is nice to see when everyone can work independently. After that we have a morning assembly. One student leads the prayers. We sing the Philippine National Anthem and someone will give a morning talk. When the talk is finished that is the time of our class hours. We have also different subjects but more on technical which is related to our courses. Before we end our training we have our hobbies, during this time I see the true meaning of life. It is nice to see when everyone is living together in harmony. We end our activities with afternoon assembly”

“DBTC-TVED just only helps you to learn something new that you never knew before. So be wise to use the time given to you for the hobby so that in the end you will be proud that even though you’re too busy for your study, you also learned some skills. The DBTC-TVED only wants you to learn not only in subjects but also in skills because we need an enjoyment in ourselves to continue to live life.”

“The most exciting day of Intramurals is the championship day. The winner of the game will be the champion and the champion will be proud of their team. The loser will be sad but the most important part of the game is that you do your best and most especially enjoy the game and show good sportsmanship.”

“When retreat day came we were all very excited. We all believed and expected that this retreat will give us the chance to discover our inner self. We entered the retreat house. It is situated in Mantalongon. It is a very suited place for people who wanted to relax and have peace of mind.”

“As a trainee here in TVED you are practising the good deeds of St John Bosco by doing your tasks extraordinarily well. Being a Bosconian is not easy especially doing things that are new for you but if you believe in yourself doing what is right and keep in mind that it is for your own good and you will become a good Christian and honest citizen because it is the only one thing that Don Bosco wants us to be.”

What we take for granted, part 2

I would probably have returned to this theme sooner, but a lot has happened and there has been a lot to reflect on in the last couple of months. February has brought with it a return to something vaguely approaching routine, and so, with the celebrations out of the way for a time, it seems appropriate to reflect further on the main part of our life here, our work with the vocational students.

Working with the students at TVED continues to open my eyes to the many things we take for granted, the many privileges we have come to see as rights, rarely pausing to consider that many are luxuries a large part of the world's population can only dream of.

There are plenty of signs of poverty among the students of TVED, but there are certain things in life which are so much part of meeting our basic needs that not only do we think of them as rights, but so should we, and so should everyone: surely something as fundamental as sleep shouldn't be considered a privilege? Probably not, but some of the students here certainly don't get as much as they need.

The TVED programme is all encompassing - the students are expected to dedicate themselves to the course and give 100% - not only to learning their practical skills, but to the social and religious elements of life too: TVED is forming characters as well as employees. It means an 11 hour day, six days a week, which alone is a pretty intensive programme. There are no optional extras here, it is all or nothing, and lateness and absence are not tolerated.

For most of us, a sixty-six hour week probably already sounds like more than enough, but for some of the students, that is not all they do. Although the fees at TVED are low, and not all of the students even pay those,  they still have to live. I don't want to exaggerate, many of the students are supported to study here by their families, but there are a fair number who, either before school or after, or in some cases both, have to work. Considering they have to be on site for 6.30am, that is no small thing. Some students earn money by driving the bicycle taxis in the early morning and evening, at least one we know does odd jobs at the home of a wealthy Filipino to support himself.

As a teacher, I find it very irritating when students doze off in my classes, but although I wake them up and ask them to concentrate, part of me can't help feeling that anyone who is tired enough to sleep on a hard wooden chair with their head on a desk, possibly needs the sleep more even than they need the English lesson!

So when you go to bed tonight, sleep well!

Shaken not stirred

Another week, another experience ...

Shortly before lunchtime on Monday, Negros island, the next island to the west of us here in Cebu, was struck by a 6.8 magnitude earthquake. They are still searching for the missing but so far about fifty people are thought to have lost their lives. Travelling to the north of Negros island is currently pretty tricky as a lot of the bridges have been damaged.

Hopefully, if anyone was worried about us, you know by now that we are fine. Here, the reverberations from the earthquake were significant enough to be exciting, but not serious enough to be scary. Cebu is, by Philippine standards relatively safe. Negros, like many islands here is volcanic, but Cebu is a coral island so at much less risk from this kind of thing.

I can safely say that earthquakes have much the same effect on students as fire alarms do, causing much excitement and unsettledness! The students were sent home on Monday afternoon, as a precaution, which did mean some of them arrived back on Tuesday morning asking if we could "have another earthquake today please"!

The damage at TVED amounted to a couple of broken windows, and part of the ceiling falling down in one of the classrooms where we teach (although that possibly says more about the shoddy construction of the building than about the severity of the earthquake!)

The aftershocks are continuing as the fault settles back into place, one of which woke me up at 5 this morning meaning I am now quite tired. Later in the morning I think the overreaction to a very minor tremor suggested the students were just looking for an excuse for a break! Earthquakes or no earthquakes though, the teaching must go on, so if the third floor classrooms were too risky, we decamped to the outdoor areas and carried on regardless!

The challenge of David - part 4

You will be pleased to hear that I think this may be the final part of my current series of reflections!

All of this thinking about David has led me to also reflect on Jesus’ life and in what ways he might be seen as David’s successor, an identity he is given in at least some of the Gospels.

Geographically, Jesus and David both grew up far away from the corrupting influences of armies and palaces of the centres of power, and David, a shepherd and Jesus a carpenter, were hardly those at the centre of political and financial power. It is there, at the outskirts of society that both grow in wisdom and learn to listen to God. It is there, too, that both experienced intense moments of receiving the gift of God’s spirit, David, anointed in the fields by Samuel, Jesus, baptised in the desert by John.

Both came into contact with sin and both, eventually, made their way to the centres of power, but their chosen routes and responses were very different. Perhaps it is these different choices which show how Jesus became truly the king after God’s own heart that David had been unable to be.

Like David in the cave on the hillside, Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemane, in the face of violence and danger to his own life, understood God’s call to non-violence. David and Jesus both told their followers to put down their swords. It was a vocation to peaceful, non-violent resistance from which David was tempted to stray by the trappings of wealth and power, but to which Jesus remained faithful to the point of death.

Like David, Jesus encountered both sexual sin, and financial crimes: but while David lamented his adultery while continuing to justify his vast wealth, Jesus shows himself forgiving and understanding with those who have committed sexual sins (for example, the woman caught in adultery in John 8) whilst he reserves his harshest condemnation for those who oppress others, who refuse to share their riches, and who live a hypocritical life condemning the sins of others whilst justifying their own immoral lifestyles.

While geographically Jesus followed David to Jerusalem, to the centre of power, and by some at least was heralded for kingship, ideologically Jesus rejected this place at the centre. He refused to collaborate with those currently in power, but nor did he agree to become a political opposition leader in a power struggle; rather he rejected the prevalent model of domination and authority, maintained by armies and aggression.

I think the stories that immediately follow Jesus entry into Jerusalem on palm Sunday in the different gospels are hugely significant in demonstrating Jesus’ response to entering the centre of power. In both Matthew and Marks’ gospels, immediately after his entry into Jerusalem, Jesus leaves again to spend the evening outside the city in Bethany, symbolic of his rejection of this place at the centre of power; and while in Luke it does not say he leaves, his reaction to arriving in the city is lamentation.

The first story John tells after Jesus arrival in Jerusalem, that of two Greeks asking to meet Jesus, perhaps adds a further dimension to our understanding of Jesus relationship with this centre of power. Perhaps if Jesus is going to come to the centre of power, he is determined that so is everyone else: the centre of power cannot be a place of exclusivity, but a place of welcome for all. Only in opening the power centres of our communities to be places to which everyone has access, and which do not define themselves by those who are in and those who are out, can we create a true kingdom of God.

Maybe the message of David’s life, and of Jesus’, is how hard it is to listen to the voice of God from the centres of wealth and power: to really hear what God is saying, maybe we have to choose to stay on the edge: which is a huge challenge, because how do I, as a Brit, as one of the richest few percent of people on earth, and very much from the centres of financial and political power, continue to live on the edge and hear God’s voice. Perhaps there are some very difficult choices to be made ...

The challenge of David - part 3

As well as the sin of sleeping with Bathsheba, David compounds matters by the state-sponsored murder of Uriah. So why the change, from the man who refused to kill Saul to the one who hardly had a second thought about ordering the death of Uriah: could it be the riches and the palaces, could it be the money and wealth that drives a non-violent man to surround himself with armies? Perhaps it is always inequality that makes us hide behind violence and aggression.

And just maybe, the different kingship, the ‘kingship after God’s own heart’ to which David was called, and to which God hoped he would be true was actually a rejection of all of this. A rejection of the palaces and the armies. Maybe the reason he was anointed for kingship as he came in from the fields to a family meal is because this was the kingship God was looking for, this was the kingship of service that would have made David a ‘king after God’s own heart.’ Perhaps the many “blessings” that David received from God in the form of riches and wealth were written into the story later, a justification of power, nationhood and empire; when God abides not in the centres of power, but at the edges of society, and alongside the poor.

How often are we tempted to justify our wealth: by giving token amounts to good causes to salve our consciences, by claiming God has blessed us with our possessions and our ability to oppress others. How true the words “How poor is the rich man who thinks he’s been blessed, by God, for the wealth that he hoards, how poor is the rich man who’s doing his best, to justify serving two Lords.” (Garth Hewitt)

Uriah is the named individual who suffers at the hands of a king maintaining his power and position by military might: but actually his death is no more of a crime than the thousands of others who die alongside him on the battlefield, for whose deaths David expresses no remorse, or even recognition that their deaths are a crime. Not much has changed. The nameless corpses on the global battlefields continue to pile higher and no one is repenting the deaths of the “unknown soldiers” and “unknown civilians” all around the world.  As the bodies pile higher no-one is even keeping count, let alone able to name, the victims of violence and aggression.

But maybe David’s prior step of accepting wealth and power, is also our preceding sin. The violence and aggression which we see as essential, as "protecting our security", are a side-effect of the local, regional and global inequalities which persist in our world and which most of us hardly even pause to question: or certainly not for long enough to make the sacrifices that are necessary to bring it to an end.

We claim that security and peace are high priorities, and most of us, if asked, would say it is wrong that children die of hunger while other countries are bowed by the pressures of over-indulgence and greed; but are we willing to step away from our palaces if that is the cost of setting things right. Do we, like David, cling to the centres of power, resorting to violence to defend them, or are we prepared for that truly different kind of kingship, that of God’s own heart?

The challenge of David - part 2

The story continues though (if you are wondering from what, please read part 1 first!), and somehow, it all seems to go very badly wrong. Taking up kingship, David, who has been anointed to be a different sort of king, a ‘king after God’s own heart’, seems to resort to exactly the same strategies as his predecessor, maintaining his power through violence and military might, and living in the midst of riches and wealth. When God called David to a different kind of kingship, I have to question whether this is quite what he had in mind.

David commits what is, probably, his most famous sin: Taking the wife of another man, and then to cover the deed, causing the man to die ... how different this from the David who refused to kill another man, even when some would have justified him doing so as self-defence.

Another prophet comes on the scene, and Nathan recounts to David his sin, through the use of a parable (2 Samuel 12). Sleeping with Bathsheba is generally recognised as being the sin from which David needs to repent, but reading the story more closely, I wonder whether Nathan actually identifies a far greater sin of which David is guilty: it is not just killing and eating the poor man’s ewe lamb which is the sin, but the preceding reality of having many flocks and herds in the first place, while another man has virtually nothing. The sin which allows the man of the parable to take the poor man’s lamb, the sin which leads David to think it is acceptable to claim another man’s wife as his own, is the sin of allowing the inequalities in the distribution of wealth to persist, and of justifying that this inequality is acceptable, even right.

Heading off at a slight tangent, this brought to mind the Sodom story (Genesis 19). In a church which can seem to be obsessed with the gravity of sexual sin while ignoring other far greater sins which are much more actively condemned by the bible, this story is usually presented as God’s wrath against sexual sin. However there is, in the text, another explanation of God’s anger: the sin of refusing to offer hospitality, the sin of refusing to share what you have with those who have nothing, the sin of excluding the outsider.

Maybe sexual sin is an easier and less challenging target for our condemnation than the acquisition of riches. Maybe we can be tempted to hide behind condemnation of the sexual sin to avoid the greater challenge of the call to open our doors to outsiders and to share what we have.  Maybe we, like David, are repenting of our peripheral sins while, with our eyes blinded by wealth and privilege, ignoring or even justifying our most significant ones.

To be continued ...

The challenge of David - part 1

At daily mass recently the readings have been following the books of Samuel and the story of David, shepherd boy, anointed by a prophet of God and destined for kingship. They have prompted some reflections which I share here in case you are interested in my theological ramblings.  I am not setting out to be a biblical scholar, so these are just my thoughts, in some sort of hopefully semi-cohesive form.

I have particularly been reflecting on the incident where David, in hiding from Saul’s violence, has the opportunity to kill the man from whom he is fleeing (1 Samuel 24). His companions urge him to do so, reminding him that the Lord has promised to ‘deliver Saul into your hands’. David throws down his sword, and instead of killing Saul, offers himself to him in humble, loving service. Saul’s response is, at least temporarily, repentance.

Perhaps it is this moment that marks David out as a true Man of God: his understanding that when God delivers Saul into his hands, he does not ask for violence: God never calls us to aggression. Rather, that Saul has been delivered into David’s hands through love, and it is to love than David is called. The recognition of this call to loving service is what proves David is really listening to God. And the message he hears is that meeting Saul’s aggression with love is the response that God himself asks. And Saul’s response, at least in the short term, is repentance. David either already knows, or learns in that moment that love holds a power greater than violence.

It is a tough call. David, literally, takes his life into his hands when he goes out empty-handed before the king and his armies who have headed to the hills with the express purpose of killing him. How often, not in the face of death perhaps, but risking ridicule or even just questions, do we opt for the easier path of aggression, be it actions, words or just in thoughts, rather than the self-sacrificing choice of loving service. 

David comes out of the cave empty-handed. When he offers himself and rejects violence he does it openly, visibly on the hillside. The choice to reject violence is not just about putting down the sword, it is about him coming out from the shadows, leaving his hiding place and approaching in vulnerability and weakness. It would be unrealistic to suggest that for all who choose this route the outcome is as fortunate as David’s. The route of loving service can also be the path to martyrdom. But maybe it would lead to a situation like David’s more often than we think. 

If only we had the courage to put down our weapons, to put down our harsh words, to come out from behind the masks which have become our security and to give it a try.

There is more, but this is long enough for one post – watch this space for the sequel!

All Hail to St John Bosco!

Today, 31st January, the church celebrates the feast of St John Bosco. We, on the other hand, have already been celebrating this feast for nearly a week. Lessons ended on Wednesday to be followed by three days of events and activities with the students, Sunday was family day, and yesterday the whole staff headed to the beach to swim in the sea, eat (a lot) and play mad games. By comparison to the goings-on of the last few days, today is fairly quiet. Time perhaps, to reflect on this saint who we are celebrating.

There is no doubt about it, Don Bosco certainly gets his name about (partly owing to the Salesians' lack of originality in naming their projects - of the twenty or so in this province, I think all bar two are called Don Bosco something!) It is a name which, this time last year, I knew of vaguely, and in a short space of time has become incredibly familiar. Along with the name, I have come to know something of the story of this holy and pioneering spirit.

In the midst of the industrial revolution, John Bosco became a priest and dedicated his life to working with those most other clerics of the time wouldn't touch with a barge pole. He called to him the boys from the streets, brought to the cities in search of employment or wealth but finding instead only poverty, destitution and abandonment. He welcomed those who were unwelcome elsewhere, he offered them a place to call home, a chance of an education and skills. He invited them to play and have fun and be children. He offered them the gospel of a God who loves them just as they are.

Mixed up in his story are tales of magic and miracles, incidents we might doubt through our 21st century eyes, but which were perhaps much more easily accepted by the people of his day. Irrespective of whether they happened as written, or have a more rational explanation, there is no doubt in my mind that the true miracle of Don Bosco's life was his absolute commitment to the poor and destitute children, migrants to the growing industrialised cities, abandoned by society at large. The miracle of his life was to pray holding nothing back, and so be willing to give up everything to serve these kids whose existence everyone else would rather forget.

And the miracle to which he calls us, is not to perform feats or tricks but to place those who are most excluded by society at the very centre of our thoughts and lives.

The need he saw then, for someone to show these poor, destitute, unloved children that there was someone who cared is just as real today. There are still children displaced by poverty, damaged by abuse or abandonment, scarred by war. There are still children searching for a place to be themselves, to run and to play. There are still children who need to hear someone say "you are loved"

St John Bosco has left a legacy in his name plastered on schools and youth projects around the world: but a greater legacy will be the day when the rest of the world wakes up to the call to care enough so that no child dies of a disease that could easily be cured, no child starves on the streets, no child is dragged into the misery of war, no child is left abandoned and alone, no child descends into a spiral of depression and fear.

If we live in a civilized world, surely that shouldn't be beyond our reach?