Category: Lent 2017

A slightly different piece from me today, written inside an exhibition at the Baltic in Gateshead.

I’m here for the day and decided to pop into the gallery and see what exhibitions might be interesting. There’s currently one called Mare Nostrum about the current situations facing refugees, which looks specifically at the sea. I’d recommend a visit, it’s powerful and moving and beautiful.

One part of the exhibition literally made me catch my breath and kneel on the floor. It’s a darkened room, with five screens of different sizes. The largest is accompanied by headphones, which cut out all other noise and play haunting music along with sounds of water and waves. The video is a loop of footage shot under or on the surface of the sea, showing rocks and wreckage and, most poignantly,

human-sized packages wrapped in burlap and tied in rope

floating through the sea

resting on the seabed

hanging from broken boats.

It’s an immersive experience and a powerful one. I didn’t realise I was holding my breath until I found a quiet corner of the room and knelt, which was my gut response to the piece. I let go of my breath and felt an overwhelming urge to lie face down on the floor. My public bravery doesn’t extend that far so instead I stayed kneeling and feeling and remembering to breathe.

I felt moved to take my scarf and wrap it around me as a prayer shawl. I’ve never done anything like that before, so I wasn’t sure where that came from. But I did, I kneeled and covered myself in my scarf and at first I had no words to think or say.

I was reminded of the words in Genesis which talk about the Spirit hovering over the waters and I knew that God was present.

And then, simultaneously, I wanted to run outside, into the sun, into the crowds of people enjoying their Sunday and shout and scream and drag them in with me to kneel and lie and weep and repent.

So … I stayed a bit longer and then I too went to sit in the sun and eat and smile and enjoy my afternoon. I also looked up the biblical significance of prayer shawls.

And now I’m back in the darkness, surounded by the sight and sound of water. I’ve come back with my prayer shawl/scarf and my laptop, to bring some of the outside world in and to try and find some kind of connection between all of this.

I cover myself in a symbol of the presence of God and

I acknowledge the covering of the Spirit

even and especially

in those places which seem formless and empty and full of darkness.

I kneel and

I lament the brokenness of a world which values

some lives more highly than others.

I whisper and I shout aloud

in repentance for a world which honours

some lives more highly than others.

In those places which seem formless and empty and full of darkness

I acknowledge the covering of the Spirit

and I choose to be a living symbol of the presence of God.

There are so many overlapping and interlocking injustices and sorrows here but there are small steps we can take to enact repentance for the brokenness we benefit from and are complicit in and enable to flourish.

Help Refugees is an organisation working in and around the Mediterranean to save the lives  and honour the dignity of displaced people.

You can find contact information for your local MP or councillor (if you’re UK-based) and send them an email directly here. If you want help knowing what to say I’m more than happy to help.

The Refugee Council and The Detention Forum  are two organisations working for compassion and justice in the UK.

As I continue to reflect on repentance, I’ve been thinking about apologies and how we communicate to others that we are repentant. I heard an apology recently that was full of so many caveats and provisos that it didn’t really express any meaningful repentance. I’ve given those kind of apologies too!

“I’m sorry you didn’t understand.”

“Maybe I could have chosen a slightly different way of expressing myself, perhaps.”

“I’m sorry that you seem to have been hurt by what you think I did.”

“I’m sure that’s not how it was meant but I’m sorry the church made you feel that way.”

“Aren’t the people who say those kind of things awful? I’m sorry other English people did that to you.”

“I guess I would have done it differently if I’d known you might react this way.”

and so on and so forth.

They feel like apologies to me when I give them, and they often contain words of sorrow and regret, but actually they don’t acknowledge the harm or injustice done to those receiving them. I read an article once about teaching children to apologise (I think it was this one) which listed the 4 steps of a meaningful apology:

1. I’m sorry for…
2. This is wrong because …
3. In future I will …
4. Will you forgive me?

I’d encourage you to read the article as it goes into more detail about each of these steps and gives great examples.

I’m trying to practice giving these kind of apologies, where I apologise without reservation for my specific words or actions, state what was wrong about them, give a way that I will act differently (because true repentance involves changed behaviour), and acknowledge that granting forgiveness is a choice the other person can make, rather than something I am automatically entitled to.

I’ve been thinking too about ways to give these kind of apologies when it’s corporate or communal repentance that’s needed, like Isaiah talks about. As I wrote in my last post, it’s all too easy for me to distance myself from the communities I’m part of which have caused injustice or hurt or oppression to others. But where I am a part of them, I need to fully acknowledge that and not separate myself out when expressing regret and sorrow for their our actions.

For example,

“I’m sorry for my church’s refusal to make room for the leadership gifts of gay, lesbian, and bisexual members of our congregation. This is wrong because it means we limit and dishonour the God-given strengths of our siblings and cause hurt and harm. In future I will speak up against this so that I am not complicit by my silence, I’ll refuse to be part of groups which do this and I commit to unlearning the ways I perpetuate this discrimination. When you are ready and willing, please forgive us.”

or

“I’m sorry for white people’s overt and covert racism towards people of other races. This is wrong because we dishonour the God-given identity of our siblings and cause hurt and harm. In future I will speak up against this so that I am not complicit by my silence, I’ll refuse to be part of groups that do this and I commit to unlearning the ways I perpetuate this racism. When you are ready and willing, please forgive us.”

(What I’m not trying to do here is make the apologies all about me, rather than those who have actually been harmed by the words and actions I’m repenting of. There’s so much nuance and much care needs to be taken, which is why I keep trying to learn and do better!)

And of course, these apologies are meaningless without the true repentance of changed behaviour too. As Isaiah says:

You humble yourselves
    by going through the motions of penance,
bowing your heads
    like reeds bending in the wind.
You dress in burlap
    and cover yourselves with ashes.
Is this what you call fasting?
    Do you really think this will please the Lord?

“No, this is the kind of fasting I want:
Free those who are wrongly imprisoned;
    lighten the burden of those who work for you.
Let the oppressed go free,
    and remove the chains that bind people.
 Share your food with the hungry,
    and give shelter to the homeless.
Give clothes to those who need them,
    and do not hide from relatives who need your help.”

Isaiah 58:5-7

I think that’s why these kind of apologies are so powerful, because of the “in future, I will” step. It’s not about going through the motions. Instead, it’s a commitment to positive action to change my behaviour and it’s a promise not to be given lightly and then ignored. God’s word tells us to ‘overcome evil with good’ and these are the two sides of true repentance:

acknowledging the evil and redeeming it with goodness

Or to put it another way, we lament the terrible and we look for the beauty!