You are welcome

Many of you have been kind enough to enquire of me how I enjoyed my recent visit to Palestine and Israel: Where did I go? What did I see? How was it? How is it? Some of you will have experienced a response that has been hesitant and restrained. This is because it is impossible, for me at least, to have a holiday in a place where there is so much to comprehend in terms of Holy Sites, religious and political dialogue, and an atmosphere and reality of a country that is full of contradiction and challenge. Palestine is not unique in this manner of description – but its contradictions and challenges are unique.

One of the reasons my response to enquiries has been hesitant and restrained is because this last visit was hard work. I found myself one morning, about four days in, sitting in my room weeping –  but I couldn’t explain why. In fact, a friend was able to articulate what I was not. It was being in the midst of contradiction and challenge – located for me at the point on this visit when I had spent a morning walking through Silwan, and the following afternoon at Yad Vashem. In addition, I was awaiting the publication of a Report which I knew was going to impact on the lives of people for whom I care: colleagues, church members and friends alike. In this moment, I was wondering just how it is that humanity has – that we all have – reached a point when the truth that each human is created in the image of God can be so easily cast aside.

Silwan is a ‘village’ on the side of Mount Zion. It is higgledy-piggeldy in its construction and houses vie for space with small alleyways, barely two feet across in some places, leading up the hillside from way down in the Kidron Valley to almost the top of this important Mountain. The village is inhabited by Arabs and is in the Palestinian Territories. Some years ago, forty Jewish families moved into the area and you can tell their homes because they are well built, have proper entrances, and look, well, ‘posh’ in comparison to the homes of the Arab families. The choice of these Jewish to move to this area was entirely political and the plan is for more to move into the village. This has caused friction and tension as there is no dialogue, there is no recognition that this is a community to whom and for whom the Israeli Government has shown little time and commitment even though they pay their taxes, and there is a strong sense of fear and disquiet amongst the Arab families as they know that there is little they can do as the Israeli Government continue to make life very difficult for them. I walked through this village to see what this neighbourhood was like. It was quiet, people were keen to discover if I was lost or needed help. On reflection, when I was told by an Arab friend that this is a dangerous place to visit because it can be very volatile, these people were quite possibly anxious as to who I was and what I was doing there – and rightly so. 

Yad Vashem is the Memorial to those who died in the Holocaust. It is a place of darkness – literal darkness due to the design of the building, and emotional darkness as the terrible and inhumane atrocities wreaked by the Nazi Regime are recorded there. Information boards, photographs, drawings, actual belongings of those who died are all to be found there, as well as the Book of Names that records, as far as possible, the name of each Jewish person killed in the Shoah. The information boards record the truth that Churches across Europe remained silent as news leaked out about all of the atrocities taking place in Concentration Camps and Ghettoes. They record too that it was not just Jews who were exterminated, it was Homosexuals, those with Learning Needs, Physical Needs, or Mental Health issues. Sympathisers were killed too, anyone who assisted others risked their lives and often lost them. As I left Silwan, I walked past a gate post that bore the Star of David to indicate ‘you are now in the Land of Israel’; if you are Arab – Muslim or Christian Arab – you are not welcome here. As I left Yad Vashem, I travelled up the escalator into a brilliant blue sky and thought of those who had entered the Gas Chambers, cut off from friends and family who never saw the sky again, to whom the Nazis had said, you are not welcome here.

Then there was the Report due to be published soon after my return, a Report which goes by the natty name of: Marriage and Same Sex Relationships after the Shared Conversations: A Report from the House of Bishops. Following a period of time during which Shared Conversations have taken place, and discussion with various Groups and interested parties, the Bishops have produced this Report on where their thinking has reached regarding Marriage and same sex relationships within the Church of England.  This Report has caused consternation, sadness and anxiety amongst those who are members of the Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual, Transgendered and Intersex community, as well as those who stand with them. The Report calls for a change of tone and welcome but actually perpetuates the sense that to be Lesbian or Gay is a sin. If you are a Lay member of the church, you may marry a partner of the same sex, if you are Ordained, you may not. In effect this is saying that what is ‘acceptable’ in terms of partnered relationship for those who are lesbian and gay remains sinful and unacceptable overall. If the intention of the Report is not to say this, then the Report would ‘allow’ those who are Ordained to enter into these relationships too. I wish to be very clear with you, perhaps more clear than I have been before, I do not believe being lesbian or gay or bi-sexual to be a sin. The Bible is not ‘clear’ on this matter as some suggest it is and, even if it were as clear on this matter as some suggest, why do such people persist in quoting chapter and verse on this matter and ignore the verses that are on either side… no tattoos and no removal of beards, for example. And, for those who do not wish the church to ‘give way and change to societal mores’, what might we say of the church’s change of policy on Divorce? Witness today’s Gospel.

I know personally those who are lesbian and gay who have initially been welcomed to worship but then later refused a position on the PCC. I have received complete strangers at my doorstep and into the Vicarage who are transgendered or trans-sexual who have wept because they believe ‘the church’ will not welcome them. I welcome them, but I am not ‘the church’ and, by the overall thrust of this Report being presented to the Synod, ‘the church’ retains the message of ‘you are not welcome here’. This the same message as that experienced by the Arabs of Silwan and the Jews of Germany and Europe and I do not believe it to be right or acceptable.

As a woman who serves as a Priest in the Church of England I have been called an abomination for my gender. Shouted at me in hatred and anger in a church just down the road were the words, ‘You are not welcome here’. Through the years of debate regarding women becoming priests and then Bishops, women (ironically) had to have the voices of many men speaking alongside us and, indeed, sometimes for us in order to ‘champion’ our cause. It is with this as my background, my hermeneutic that, as a straight woman, I feel such concern and disappointment in the Rpoert by the Bishops that I have been moved to write to those elected to serve on General Synod asking them not to ‘take note’ of the proposals in the Report. I cannot stand by as the Church of England says to those who wish to be members of our church, who wish to serve our church, who are members of the LGBTI community, you are not welcome here.

I have written as a lifelong member of the Church of England who wishes to stand both in solidarity with and willing service of those members of the Church of England and wider community who identify themselves as LGBTI. I have made this request as a member of the Church of England who believes our church should be saying, ‘You are welcome here’ whoever, however you are – straight, single, married, celibate, gay, divorced, lesbian - whoever, however you are.

The time away in Palestine and Israel was hard work and has left me with a renewed desire to ensure that God’s people are served whoever and however they are. We shall not always do it perfectly because none of us is perfect, but the place I know we have to begin is by ensuring that the message that our community hears from us all is, You are welcome. Nothing more and nothing less, You are welcome. Amen.

The last day in the Holy Land

The last day of my travels in Palestine and Israel took in the Mount of the Transfiguration – also known as Mount Tabor. It is a mountain that stands apart from those that fill this region, with the others forming chains that form beautiful peaks and troughs along the horizon in every direction. On this mountain, Jesus is believed to have been transfigured so that his face shone as the sun, and the three disciples who he had taken with saw a vision in which Moses and Elijah appeared. It is an awe-inspiring ‘story’, the events of which must have left the disciples wondering what on earth was going on. In addition to this event, Mount Tabor is the site of an amazing battle recorded in Judges 4 in which the Prophetess and Judge Deborah joined with Barak to defeat the Canaanite forces on the Valley of Jezreel. Today the valley is fertile and used for agriculture and the like but, as we drive from here along the road to Megiddo (Armageddon), it was not so hard to recall the fact that the valley must have been soaked in blood over many hundreds of years as the warring factions sought to take control of this region – being that it was part of the well-trodden along important trade routes.

We were blessed with sunshine as we drove away from the Sea of Galilee towards Mount Tabor and the perfect weather continued just until we reached the Basilica on the top of the Mountain. Unless one walks up the mountain from the car park, the route up is via the most tortuous of roads – absolutely not for the faint-hearted of drivers. The series of hairpin bends is shown quite clearly on the map but the map doesn’t reveal the taxi-vans that come hurtling round the corners at a rapid rate of knots, taking unsuspecting drivers unawares. Neither does the map forewarn you that the wall built to protect cars from heading over the precipice in case of slipping in wet weather (or seeking to avoid said taxis) is only about a foot high, so will be of absolutely no use whatsoever if the need to use them arose. Indeed, one of the walls had quite a seriously hole in it, and I imagine it had only barely managed to stop the vehicle that had hit it. Jesus and the disciples will have been far safer walking up the mountain, whilst Deborah (whose namesake town, Daburiyya is at the bottom of the mountain) will, of course, have been riding on her trusty, valiant and noble steed! (Not that I’m biased…)

The Basilica at the top of the mountain is quite lovely. The nave is open so that the remains of an earlier Century Basilica can be revealed through glass ‘windows’ in the ground. Designed by Bertolucci, the Basilica has what I have come to think of as his trade-mark windows. These can be seen in the Church of All Nations, the Church of the Beatitudes, the Church at the Shepherd’s Fields in Beit Sehour… amongst other places. We were lucky in that a large group was just leaving and so were able to be quiet and still in this lovely place on our last day as we made our way back towards the airport.

There were a few other people around and, as I made my way to sit quietly in the nave, there were a couple sitting closely side by side, singing a hymn together quietly. They then sat in complete stillness with their eye closed, praying. My friend and I read the account of the Transfiguration, and it was so powerful to hear it again in this place. (It is interesting the things one notices though – something new each time if one is lucky. On this occasion, it was that Jesus didn’t know what to say to the disciples because they were so afraid. I was moved by his humanity and also his helplessness…) The husband of the couple by this time was taking his wife’s photograph, and I offered to take one of them both together. They then did the same for me and my friend. Of course, then we feel into conversation as I showed them the photograph I had taken of them so calm and still as they prayed and they then told us that it was ten years since they had last visited and that on that occasion, the husband had led the prayers and, as he had done so, he received a vision. It was so lovely to hear them tell of this wonderful gift. (I should mention that they were French and their English so good. I tried my best in French, but was much relived when the husband of my bible reading companion came along and could continue the conversation in much better fashion than I!) the French couple suggested we should pray together, in our own languages, and so we did – praying the Angelus. How lovely it was to be joined in prayer with these complete strangers who were also friends in Christ.

This was such a fitting end to this time I spent in the Holy Land. From beginning to end, there was so much that was good, so much that was both thought-provoking and prayer-provoking, so much that challenged me, consoled me, comforted me, encouraged me. There is much to sift through in my mind and in my prayer. There is much to try to make sense of that has troubled me or made me wonder what faith and commitment to God are all about – and what faith and commitment can lead people to do – both for good and ill – in the name of religion/God/gods. I feel such a sense of privilege for having been able to spend this time in the land that I have come to love so much but I also feel a sense of responsibility to tell the story of my time well, and to tell well the stories of the people I met and the places and sights I saw.

What gifts I have received.

The privilege and challenge of space to 'be'

One of the reasons for spending so much time of my Sabbatical in Palestine and Israel was to be able to spend time ‘being’ in places that I have visited previously, but not had so much time to ‘be’ in because there is the next place on the itinerary to get to, the counting of pilgrims to be done (or the offering of information to other visitors who think I look as though I know what I am doing because I am wearing a clerical collar!)

The time I have had in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the Galilee has afforded the privilege of being able to look, to listen, to pray, and to ‘be’ in the places that countless millions of pilgrims have visited before me – amongst whom I have also been one in earlier years. There has been space to breathe, space simply to sit and to think – with nothing required of me except that I am in this place in this moment. The space afforded has meant that thoughts and prayers have been wide-ranging and often challenging. I have carried friends in my mind and reflected on how important they are to me. I have carried parishioners in my heart – those who are unwell, those who are in challenging situations, those who have celebrated important events in recent months, and everywhere I have gone, I have lit a candle for the people of my church and prayed for them (secretly hoping, I guess, that they are praying for me.)

Today’s journey was to Nazareth. The population of the town is city is Arab - both Christian and Muslim with the people of each faith living and working alongside each other quite happily for many, many centuries. It is a city that has seen much improvement in infrastructure over the past twenty years or so and it has a relaxed feel to it – quite different to Jerusalem.

I was looking forward to visiting the Basilica of the Annunciation, built over the site of the house of Mary and Joseph. Set across two levels, the lower level is spacious and simple, with beautiful contemporary stained glass windows that almost  to colour the air – adding to the ‘scene’ something of the joy and delight that must have filled Mary’s heart (alongside the absolute terror and fear I imagine she must have felt a) at the appearance of an angel and b) the news that she was to have baby!) Set at the farthest end away from the entrance is a chapel that, when the congregation is seated around the altar, they are facing the remains of the home that Mary and Joseph are believed to have inhabited. We were so lucky in our timing as there were very few other people visiting the Basilica and, although there was a Service of Holy Communion upstairs, the singing that carried over into the lower level was stunningly beautiful in its simplicity and added to my joy of being in this place. Time spent here is always a real gift and, although I find it hard to comprehend the way in which Mary managed to understand what was being asked of her, I am so glad that she answered, “Let it be to me according to your word”. I can spend ages in this part of the Church – gazing at the windows… wondering and wandering…

Outside the Basilica, the internal walls of the ‘compound’ are decorated with images of Mary created and gifted by various nations from across the world (these continue in the upper part of the Basilica too). Images of Mary with the infant Christ are also to be found in the Greek Orthodox Church of St Gabriel in the upper part of the city. Amongst the images is one in which the angel is holding out its hand in blessing to Mary, in whose womb is the infant Christ. I hadn’t noticed this painting before – I guess, because like so many others, I have looked over the ‘fence’ to gaze at the water below that bubbles up from one of the many springs in this area and from which Mary is believed to have collected water. Seeing this image reminded me of Damian Hirst’s Madonna exhibited some years ago at a Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy in London. Considered controversial by some, I loved it – imaging as it does, a heavily pregnant Mary with Christ in her womb. Her breasts are ready to give milk for Jesus to feed on, and there we see the Incarnate God waiting to be born in the form in which his ministry would be seen and we could come to know him – the Word made flesh indeed.

I love it when artists surprise and challenge (even if I don’t like what they produce to surprise and challenge!) This Holy Land is full of surprise and challenge – for visiting the places in which Mary and Joseph lived and worked to care for Jesus, as well as the places where he taught and healed and prayed, bring surprise and challenge of their own. How will I respond? How am I being changed? What am I being led to think of, to pray for, to consider, to put aside… the answers to any of these questions will, if one is open, inspire and challenge in their own way.

We all need space and place to look, to listen, to pray, and to ‘be’… and I hope that you have space and place – and time – to do these things too. I also hope that you have the courage to be open the surprises and challenges you may discover along the way…