Head and Heart

Love is the big booming beat which covers up the noise of hate.          Margaret Cho

Do you know when it is your head speaking and when it is your heart speaking when you say something?  Reacting to something that happens or responding to someone else’s comments, where do your words or actions come from?

Joy Cowley has a poem in Aotearoa Psalms called Head and Heart.

Head said: “I am logic.  I am structure.

I am the stake which supports the young plant.”

Heart said: “I am love. I am mystery.

I am the creative force of life.”

Not surprisingly they got into an argument ending up going to God to ask to be separated.   God’s answer: “Not even God can do that.”

They belong together, but their problem is finding peace together because they are so different.

We need both – head thinking and heart feeling – but there’s a big problem when they talk at cross purposes.  For example, when one person is speaking from the heart and the one who replies to them speaks from the head.

“I don’t want things to change”.  That’s the heart speaking.   So will it help to put the case, clearly and logically, that it can’t be helped?  That change needs to happen, that change is part of life, etc. etc.

And round the other way round.  If someone is expressing their thoughts and trying to be rational in doing so, there’s little gain in responding with feelings only.  Much better to say something like: “I hear your argument, but I need to simply say, not what I think, but what I feel.”

The most important thing is to recognise the difference.  To recognise it in ourselves and in other people.  Then there’s a chance we can communicate.  Not at cross purposes, but directly heart to heart and head to head.

God’s advice to Head and Heart in Joy Cowley’s poem is:

Respect each other.  Nurture each other.

Help each other to be equal.

Then peace will come more and more – inside ourselves as well as in our relating with others.

Rangimārie Shalom Peace, Robyn

November 2018

Shame, Lament, and Re-connection

Something got me thinking again about shame.

There’s an important link between shame and mental health.  Also shame is experienced by a wide range of ordinary people.

In some cultures shame is the reverse of honour.  In other cultures, in particular the main culture I’ve lived within, it is the reverse of success.

I got to understand this most poignantly as a minister in farming communities.  The unholy trinity of weather, markets, and government makes farming a very vulnerable occupation.  It takes a lot of trust to keep going in what is more a way of life than a job, living with so many variables.  (It does mean that farmers overall have a good idea what faith is about even if they are not part of organised religion.)

It’s also a line of work that requires almost constant adapting to the circumstances and, in recent decades that has needed to include innovation and thinking outside the box.  Once upon a time (it seems) it was simple: supply the primary produce (meat, wool, milk) and the world will buy it.  The world changed.

Central to this culture that has shame as the reverse of success is the idea of blame.  Whose fault is it when something goes wrong?   Whose fault when the potato crop fails?  Whose fault when the price of kiwi fruit crashes?  Whose fault when drought carries on longer than usual, at the same time as a drop in world markets, and a high exchange rate?  Whose fault when the company you work for goes into receivership?

And another one: whose fault when health fails?  Am I poor at looking after myself?  Am I now a useless person.

Strangely, the habit is to see any kind of failure that we are part of our own fault.  Or, in the language of shame, to be ashamed of being part of something that fails.   Shouldn’t we have seen it coming?  Shouldn’t we have made different choices?

We should have got it right.  We didn’t and as a result we withdraw into ourselves.  We can’t face other people: they’ll be talking about us; they’ll rate us as failures, which can have an impact on attitudes to anything one tries in the future.

So shame leads to losing connection with others and, as a result, losing perspective on one’s situation.  There’s no chance to talk about what’s going on, to discover there are others in the same boat, or to do something different – have some fun, relax and enjoy company.  No wonder depression, and suicide, are such big issues in this culture.

Interestingly the book of Joel addressed exactly this kind of situation.  What had hit the land was drought, locusts, and an invasion: in our time, weather problems, disease (e.g M. Bovis), and external pressures, financial or political.  “Their joy is put to shame,” says Joel.  That’s how it is.

The remedy?  “Turn to God and lament.” That is, get out, get together, speak about what’s happening.  Don’t hold it to yourself, but put it out there in the shared space we call God.  Find community again, that is find the spiritual in our midst, a safe place in which to be ourselves and know we have nothing to be ashamed of.

Apparently social connections are a significant factor in alleviating post-traumatic stress and ensuring resilience to the uncontrollables of living.

Church is this social connection, with a really strong foundation.

Rangimārie Shalom Peace, Robyn

July 2018

Rural Church Gathering

Did you see the article in Touchstone about the International Rural Churches Conference that Diane and I attended?

Touchstone is handed out at church but anyone can pick up a copy at Cornerstone, or find it on-line .

As always for me it was church at its best.  Country people, people of the land and sea, gathered from all the continents and many islands, each of us unique, all of us belonging as church together.  The theme was “Growing Together” and grow we did, with “the gifts God gave to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ”. (Ephesians 4:11-12)

Ninety-four people from India, Sri Lanka, Romania, Switzerland, France, England, Scotland, Canada, USA, Korea, Fiji, Tahiti, Australia, and New Zealand, we stayed at Lincoln University, from pōwhiri on Sunday evening (April 15) to breakfast the following Saturday.  As we wrote in the Conference Statement:

• In worship, music, presentations, workshops, and times of fellowship, we immersed ourselves in the faith that unites us, looking at the contexts we inhabit through the lens of biblical narrative. What is different between us, culturally and denominationally, is not a barrier but rather a source of inspiration and growth. We came together to encourage each other and learn from one another, in our work of serving God and our communities so that they can flourish. Sharing deeply, in a great variety of accents and perspectives, inputs reflected both our diversity and our commonality as rural people. Our common goal is for our churches and communities to live the vision God dreams for the world.

It was 2002 when I first experienced this international church belonging. I’d been handed the job of NZ email member of the organising team so I had at the conference in Chennai, South India.  There I got handed the job of Chairperson of IRCA, which meant saving furiously again and attending the next conference in Canada. (Thank you to those who helped with my saving.)  I did the same again to go to Germany in 2010, as it was also an opportunity to go to Scotland and Ireland and stand in places my forebears came from.  Then it was Malawi – wow to be with churches in one of the poorest countries of the world: what an inspiration they are.  Finally here in NZ (just as well, because my passport had run out).

We always had difficulty getting visas for people from different countries.  I used to think, if only we could hold the conference in New Zealand because it was very straightforward to get visitor visas.  But being so far away, the cost was seen as prohibitive.  Sadly, by the time the leadership group decided the distance was worth it for the benefits of visiting our fine country, the temporary visa situation had changed dramatically.

If you live in a poorer country, even though you are in ministry and totally committed to your family, church, and community, and to their well-being and growth, Immigration New Zealand assumes you won’t return home.  Therefore a temporary visa is not granted.  Even, in one case, with the sponsorship forms all filled in and signed (for my Malawi colleagues).

It was a huge gap for me in an otherwise wonderful, even best ever, conference.  It is reason to persist as a network of rural followers of the Christian Way.  Again as the Statement we want shared with churches and communities world-wide puts it:

• Our world is bigger than our own backyard. Many regions face challenges that risk lives and we are aware of the impact of climate change, especially on Pacific nations and low lying con-tinental regions, of persecution on minority faiths in many parts of the world, and of consumerism on traditional livelihoods. Awareness calls us to change our behaviours towards the planet, other nations, and others in our own context.

We ended with these words:

• The Association reaffirms its solidarity with rural communities which are vulnerable to global economic and political influences and to man-made and natural disasters. Rural areas need a voice. We in IRCA will continue to take on this God-honouring role to be intentional voice with the voiceless, and be active in raising the profile within our churches of the challenges of rural ministry.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn

May 2018

Being Community Commons

It’s been more than a year now since the Kerikeri congregation experienced something unique in the life of a congregation.  Coming to church on Sunday morning meant coming to a place that was not only fresh and new and unlike any traditional building but fresh and new to everyone attending.  Those who had been part of the Sunday group as if forever and those who came along for the first time, plus everyone in between, we equally could make ourselves at home.

And for me, leading as much as I can through words and actions, I could feel an equal open relationship with everyone present.  I could sense the even greater variety and difference among us.

We weren’t all “church” people.  We knew we didn’t all have a common history.  We could each be present with our own histories and life experiences.

In theory we can acknowledge that we are each unique and there are differences among us.  But an established church congregation develops an inner culture, a sense of shared understanding, and a common voice that probably reflects more the strongest voices than the voices of all.  You’ll hear phrases like  “We all know that…”  “We remember when…”  “We believe…”

But what if you’re present and you don’t know that, or remember when, or believe the same?

That’s the feeling of being an outsider.  I’ve known it often over the years, particularly attending church services elsewhere, and have worked hard to express something different, something that gives room for everyone, including this odd-bod me.

So the Kerikeri congregation had a unique opportunity at the turn of the year 2016/2017 and we took it and I’ve been told it was working.  I felt it – here was church that I could want to be part of always (and would miss terribly when I left).

I have a feeling that we’re now settling in, settling down.  And we’re at risk of losing something very precious.  I’ve felt the pull towards familiarity, regular patterns, sameness.  I’m told others are feeling it.  Could be that we’re not as inclusive as before.

Being present on Sunday mornings – at Kaeo and at Kerikeri – does mean being part of something that has familiar elements and something of a regular routine.  New people have always been joining our groups, and they seem soon to find their way to belong.  Often they’ve come with experience of church elsewhere and that gives a link – being familiar with church culture.

The biggest barrier to growing participation, from beyond those already “churched”, is this church culture, this sense that we all know what’s going on, or if we don’t we’re not really part of it yet.

As church, our chosen mission (God’s mission for us) is to be “Community Commons” and that’s as a community of faith as much as through our buildings.  “Commons” by definition are places open to all, all equally belonging.  Traditionally they were places to bring live-stock to graze; here and now it’s for people coming for spiritual refreshment.

We will grow our congregations when we are this for any who come.  We simply need to remember that we are all different.   This is a “we all” statement we can safely make: we all come with our own unique stories.  We build connections, but we don’t lose our individuality, and we can never presume what I know or think or feel matches the other person alongside me.   We build community by listening to one another’s uniqueness, sharing our own stories, marvelling at the diversity, and enjoying the spiritual richness that results.

In this we experience a unifying spirit among us.  That surely is the Spirit of Christ, weaving continuing and growing threads of Christ-like people.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn

March 2018

He Aituā

Millie Te Kaawa

Aituā is a powerful Māori word that can’t really be matched in English.  H.W. Williams dictionary speaks of “misfortune, trouble, disaster, accident”, and next to it is aitu meaning “calamity”.  It’s when death comes trampling, death of a person or other sorts of death – of dreams, or a relationship, of health, of prospects, of the future we thought we had.  Basically anything that bowls us over.

The only antidote to it is identified in these words of greeting I regularly use – I roto i te ringaringa kaha o aituā he iwi kotahi tātou.  Under the heavy hand of aituā we are one people.  The only recourse for finding our way through is to draw together, to share the struggle.

Not alone, but surrounded by fellow travellers – that’s what it is to be human, genuinely human.

The Whangaroa community experienced this when our good friend “Magoo” drowned at Cable Bay rescuing his daughter.  Wairongoa Clarence Renata has 1,332 friends on Facebook (me among them). We worked together on Whangaroa Armed Services Commemorations and that was enough to get a friend request from him.  His whole life was like that – meet him and you’re mates.   For a family and for community that, through the armed forces, stretches around the world, aituā indeed to lose such a top bloke.  And yet it happens.  And it’s what we do with it that counts: in particular, do the things and be the kind of person we admire in the one we have lost.

That’s the same with another person I have mourned at a distance recently. Millie Te Kaawa was a matriarch within the Presbyterian Church.  She was a mentor and a great support for me, never forgetting times years back when I had stood in General Assembly to speak up for the Māori Synod.  She lived the faith, and radiated the kindness and warmth of being motherly disciple of Christ.

But what’s really knocked me recently in a sudden discovery of illness, pancreatic cancer in fact, in our wider in-law family.  A previously fit and healthy man in his fifties so you’d never expect it. It hurts when people we care about are hurting. Even more so when it’s one’s children and in some ways the emotional hurt of others is harder to sit with than physical hurt.  But sitting with pain is always hard, unable to do anything to make it right again.

Hanging in there, being together when that’s possible, that’s what is best. Providing background support to family, or friends, that can help them cope with the fact that the future has changed.

The immediate family in this case is very much part of the Catholic Church.  Messages of prayer and love have been the key thing, and Parish Council has been brought into the prayer circle as well, knowing that our prayer support as a church will be meaningful.  Prayer is in fact an ideal way to offer a sense of being surrounded by love, without intrusion, without fuss. A way to share the journey of being human.

I pray for all these people and all those among us who mourn or who struggle.  I pray every time I think of you.

Rangimarie Peace Shalom, Robyn

January 2018