These are tiring times. At least, I am tired. And I have been wrestling with whether to write this post at all. However I have been challenged by a blog from a friendly vicar in a group of country parishes entitled 'Silence' about a subject of which I was blissfully ignorant. The challenge came in his alluding to the famous words attributed to the German pastor, Martin Niemöller: "First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me." Having first been impressed by Nazism, by 1934 he came to see its inherent evil.
My friend George was reacting to the storm stirred up in London by a tweet of a theologically literate clergyman about the proposed national clap for the late Captain Thomas Moore. He said he would be praying for the repose of the kind and generous soul of the man who had become the icon of practical gratitude to our NHS, but he wouldn't be joining in the clap. I think he had rightly detected that such gestures, since their rather pure and altruistic inception as an expression of national gratitude to front-line medical and care staff, had become politicised and devalued. It's certainly my perception that NHS staff are weary of such gesture politics. If you want to know more of the background you can find it in this article from yesterday's Guardian: Social media lynching. In case you're in doubt about some of the references, Jarel Robinson-Brown is, his own words, "someone who is Black, gay, and Christian" which may explain the lynch-mob who went for him on Twitter led by such luminaries as Kelvin Mackenzie (former editor of The Sun) and self-publicist and populist Nigel Farage. As far as I know, neither of them is a keen supporter of the CofE.
Photo: www.cgtrader.com/3d-models
That the UK equivalent of the ultra-cons might work themselves into a lather over one arguably ill-timed tweet is predictable, though that they have nothing better to do than to act as 21st century thought police speaks volumes about them. The more troubling aspect of the affair is that the authorities in whose care the curate is, far from supporting him, seemed initially to have been more anxious to appease the hue-and-cry. "Jarel Robinson-Brown’s comments regarding Captain Sir Tom Moore were unacceptable, insensitive, and ill-judged. The fact that he immediately removed his tweet and subsequently apologised does not undo the hurt he has caused, not least to Captain Tom’s family. Nor do Jarel’s actions justify the racist abuse he is now receiving. A review is now underway, led by the Archdeacon of London." To give them their due, the diocesan authorities are now rowing back to a much more pastorally nuanced position. But my initial reaction before I had found the story was, "I know nothing about this particular case, but in my view when those in authority take to the public forum they are most likely trying to bolster their own establshed credentials than exercising due pastoral care - which is their primary role in a case like this."
George's question remains a good if hard one to answer. "When the vulnerable and isolated are attacked by the powerful and established, whatever we think of their ideas, it must immediately make us ponder: do I stay silent or do I speak up?"
(Jarel Robinson-Brown's recent article in The Church Times "Can rage be holy?" is worth reading.)
