Whatever next?

In his blog, the BBC sports editor, David Bond, ends his summary of the London Olympics, headlined "How can Rio follow London?" with "After the last three weeks the question might now be: How can anyone hope to follow London?" Boris Johnson fell into the same mindset when he declared, "If you were to say to me that we have just held the greatest games ever in Britain, I would say you are on the right track." The implication seems to be that it's impossible to conceive of anything bigger and better than LOCOG's staging of the Olympics. Mr Bond needs to remember that the Olympic motto isn't "maius et melius" (bigger and better). As I suspect her Majesty would say, "Good evening, Mr Bond, may I remind you of the Olympic creed? 'The most important thing is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.'"

As I've intimated before, the arms race of putting on a more impressive show than the preceding one or ones is folly. I don't know how to say it in Brazilian Portuguese, but my suggestion for 2016 is Os Jogos Olympicos Simples, the Simple Olympics, with a touch of Carnival. I think they'll manage, somehow. Meanwhile let's stop making the Olympics out of the reach of all but the richest countries - of whom Brazil of course as a BRIC nation is now one. How about putting some sponsorship into countries that need it?

PS Am just watching the closing ceremony a few hours late - what a monument to decadence and cultural arrogance - up to the handover! A shame after a thoroughly positive festival of sport. I will say no more.

Olympic mottoes

I was a bit saddened to hear our leading politicians cashing in on Great Britain's relative medal success in the Olympics, and banging on about competitive sports in schools. Not that I think they're out of place there, but I do think that there's a danger of overemphasising winning. School football pitches are already marred with over-ambitious underachieving parents screaming on the touch-lines at their poor offspring. It is plain ugly

The Olympic motto is "Citius, Altius, Fortius", which is Latin for " Faster, Higher, Stronger". All right, I suppose, but I agree with my friend, Brotherly Love, who wrote: "My motto for the Olympics would be: 'Who does the best his circumstance allows, does well, acts nobly - Angels could do no more'. That was a favourite of my dear old Dad (b. 1875) who only ever asked that I would 'do my best'." Measuring yourself against yourself and not against others must ultimately make for happier and healthier people.

As the Marathon moved past St Paul's Cathedral, I learned about the origin of the Olympic Creed. It was from a sermon there for Olympic champions by Bishop Ethelbert Talbot of Pennsylvania in 1908 that the Olympic Creed derives. The Olympic Creed, still used to this day, reads: "The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well." I think Baron de Coubertin, the modern Games' founder, did better in selecting that than the motto.

I don't like to end on a sour note, but I was disappointed to hear a commentator in the euphoria after the achievement of former Somalian refugee in the 5000 metres saying something like "Mo Farah, before the end of the year you'll be known as Sir Mo Farah." That's something I bridle at, the automatic expectation of New Year's or Queen's Birthday honours for successful sportsmen. It was a practice Tony Blair introduced, with the wholesale gong-giving to the Ashes' winning team. It seems to me they've already had their reward. It's a somewhat cheap method of politicians currying electoral popularity. A friend of mine defended the practice on the grounds that sporting success makes the country "feel better". Well, a lot of people contribute to the nation's well-being - who are not paid handsomely for doing the thing they enjoy, and receive little recognition for it.

Medals don't matter

"Can there be anything better?" I asked in my previous post, referring to the Olympics. Having watched the Men's Hockey semi-finals last night - since it was the sport I was best at, which isn't saying much! - I guess the English team would definitely say, "Yes"! After their 9 - 2 drubbing by the Netherlands (No gloating, Otto!) their captain, Barry Middleton, was given the traditional once-over by the merciless BBC commentator. The worst possible outcome would be coming fourth. Fourth in the Olympics - it's not bad, is it, after all? And yet commentators seem to regard anything outside the medals as failure - which I suspect reflects the attitude of the UK's Head Coach, Charles de Commenee.

I prefer the attitude of my ex-pat Australian friend, Liz Jones. Australia of course has had a far leaner Games than Great Britain, and I suspect sporting success is dearer to the Ozzie psyche than to us. "After hearing a newsreader saying this morning, 'Finally some gold medals, now we can be proud,' I just had to make a comment, to even make it to the Olympics is HUGE - I am proud of all of them, medals or not - they have given their lives to reach where they are now.... Yes it's fantastic to win the gold - but don't bring down the inner spirt of all who have tried so hard. I will now get off my soap-box...." Well said, Liz.

from Daily Mail

This morning I'm sorry that the BBC has completed ignored the achievement of unassuming Kenyan, David Rudisha, achieving the sole world record of the Games, in the 800 metres, mentioning only Usain Bolt, the self-appointed "legend", and our own three gold medallists of yesterday. What was remarkable about the race was the way he seemed to pull all the other runners with him so that each achieved either national or personal best times. It was a beautiful race. I think of the running track at Chogoria High (Senior) School where I taught for a year before the days of Kipchoge Keino in which the lane lines were carved out with pangas and even in those days amazing high-altitude athletics took place. Then the school's motto was something like "Thiaga Nakio Mbere" - which means, in the local language, "Press on towards the mark". That's really more like the point. It's not to achieve metal gongs you have to leave behind. It's to persevere towards the goal, as St Paul expressed it: "I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

I've always appreciated the prayer of Ignatius of Loyola. It's a better perspective than regarding completing the race but not winning as failure: 
Dearest Lord, 
teach me to be generous;
teach me to serve You as You deserve;
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labour and not to ask for reward
save that of knowing I am doing Your Will.  
In the end we won't be asked if we came in first; we'll be asked if we persevered faithfully to the finishing line.

PS Sadly I'm too late to prevent Dutchman Otto's satisfaction. He has just written: "the NINE-TWO tasted wonderfully well"!

Could there be anything better?

It's exceeded all our expectations, I think it's fair to say - the first week of the Olympics, that's to say, for "Team GB", and it looks like continuing that way. I'm told we even top the athletics medals table for a time... Could there be anything better for our rather depressed nation?

We're just back from our annual visit to New Wine. That's not, as a friend once thought, a festival of tasting the latest Bordeaux vintage. It's in fact an association of churches and church-leaders who believe that the divine person of the Holy Spirit was neglected in the life of the Church - much to its detriment. Every year they hold annual conferences near Shepton Mallet and Newark in England, attended by about 30,000 people, plus more in other countries. A week ago on Sunday we had tea with one of my oldest school friends, Alan, and his wife, Jo. It's many years since I've seen them and Jane had never met them. Jo, as it turned out, had visited New Wine for one day the week before. In an email later she wrote:
"...Would love to know how you found it.
I'll follow what you write on your blog…"

With that challenge etched on my mind, this posting is dedicated to you, Jo! However, I'm going to try and explain how I found it for those of you who may be sceptical or "iffy" about the whole faith thing, and especially of what's been conveniently and quite inaccurately caricatured as "happy-clappy religion". So here goes.

First I have to say this is not the assessment of a brief in-out journalistic foray. I reckon we've been going for the last seven or eight years. For some years we went with members of our church and since retiring we've "freelanced". So I suppose you could say we've had some in-depth exposure. Secondly, although I try to see the best in people, I'm not an utter sucker. My critical faculties haven't retired. So I have seen some imperfections in some vintages - but this year, in my opinion, was an impressive one. Not that it started that way for either Jane or me. Maybe we were tired, but, if we were, we were more tired when we left. For me the visibility was poor and the music was too loud in the main venue. Fortunately there was an escape route in the form of the Olympics marquee which was streaming various channels most of the time - not that Great Britain got off to a good start either. In the mornings we opted for the second main venue where the music didn't seem so loud and cheerful Scottish pastor from Northern Ireland, called Scott, was talking about the book Ephesians, which might not sound that interesting, but proved to be extremely so. Alan Scott's theme, which echoed that of the book, was that the Church's rôle was to love the world as God does and in fact to take that love out to communities and society. There was no quarter for a cosy clique mentality. It was a call for social engagement at every level, starting with individuals. Although I concurred with the sentiments, I can't say I was stirred. 

By the Wednesday when we drove to Sidmouth to celebrate her father's 90th, both Jane and I were, as it transpired, separately feeling this would be our New Wine swan song. We stay in a delightful self-catering cottage within easy reach of the showground, but it's an early start and a late finish. On the site - it's where the Bath and West Agricultural Show takes place - Jane pushes me in my wheelchair over rough tracks, up awkward ramps, across grass and it's hard work. The previous week had enjoyed glorious sunshine; our week had quite a lot of rain - and so sometimes Jane was splashing through streams in her flip-flops. (It was fine for me, of course, six inches in the air!) We were, I think, both feeling our ages and not inspired enough to make the effort again. It would have taken either one of us to suggest staying in for the night to keep us from going in for the evening that day.... But, as Mr Scott memorably invited us to tell the person sitting next to us (only Jane, in my case - what a relief!), "Your but is too small." 

What happened that evening? Well, there were two of my favourite worship songs, "Amazing Grace (My chains are gone)"  and "Bless the Lord, O my soul (10,000 Reasons)", and certainly a challenging talk given by Charlotte Gambill from Bradford's Abundant Life Church. But Jane had a personal spiritual experience and I was prayed for, and from then on things were different. There had been a seismic "But". I think it's reasonable to believe it was a "But God" - and that's for two reasons: first, that we'd not gone with any expectations or even hopes. We'd not turned up wishing for some special revelation; in fact, I'd say it was rather the opposite, a bit disgruntled and a bit sceptical. I even stuck ear-plugs in to damp down the invasive music! And Jane had commented that she didn't want to be challenged that evening. We weren't exactly suggestible. Secondly, neither of us invited what we experienced. It came "out of the blue". I should explain that New Wine has a tradition of "ministry", that is inviting people to come forward to be prayed for, usually at the end of a meeting. I'm not averse to the practice. But neither of us felt inclined to that evening. God, it appears, simply and unexpectedly responded to Jane's personal prayer before it was completed where she was standing, and afterwards sent some stranger to embrace her sadnesses. I was heading to leave, unprayed for, when a friend of Jane's and two others asked if they might pray with me. I don't remember their prayers, but I do recall the sense of God caring about me, that he'd not consigned me to the scrapheap - which that night was important in view of Jane's being "surprised by joy".
That's not the end of the story by any means. However it did mark a sea-change for me - which, as it turned out, was a good thing.

My sleep was not the best that night, in that I woke quite a bit. But next morning I seemed none the worse, and we headed up the road again for another day of chance encounters and planned sessions. This time Alan Scott’s teaching stirred me more, and he showed this uncanny knack, or sensitivity to God’s voice, of knowing what was wrong with people. No doubt cynics would say that simply on the law of averages in a group of more than a thousand you’re bound to have a number of people who’ve had reconstructive surgery and have metal causing them problems. But it was more specific than that. It did occur to me in this connection that second-hand accounts aren’t sufficient. Even seeing miracles with your eyes still leaves room for disbelief. I could tell you of individuals I saw doing things they couldn’t previously, people out of pain for the first time, scar-tissue restored, but I don’t suppose it would convince you - but then I don’t believe that was the point at all. If miracles have a point, it is, I think, to show the individual that the God who loves the cosmos also cares about them. And that is something which is very hard to credit.

I hesitate to tell you about my own minor miracle which happened the next morning. Although I describe it as “minor”, I have to say its impact on me has been major. There’s a phrase in the prophecy which Jesus applied to his mission: “to bestow on them... a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair”. You’ll understand that deep in diseases like MND lurks “a spirit of despair”. For me it’s symbolised in the longing to dance. My friend, Louise, who has Muscular Dystrophy, introduced me to the song by Lee Ann Womack “I hope you dance”: 
“Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,
I hope you dance  I hope you dance.” 
I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but when someone crossed the aisle and asked me to dance, to be honest, my mind freaked out. “You’re joking me, aren’t you?” I thought to myself. “Have you any idea what’s wrong with me? You’re not very tall, are you? Do you know I had a fall this morning and it took three people to get me back on my feet? You must be joking.” I’ve no doubt my fear was obvious in my eyes, as I desperately looked at Jane to rescue from this madness. However, Heather didn’t seem phased in the least. “I think I’ve heard God telling me, ‘Go and ask that man over there to dance with you.’” She didn’t look mad, I must say; just kind and calm. As she and Jane helped me to my feet on rigid legs, she said with a smile, “I am a physio. I won’t let you fall. Don’t worry.” Easier said than done! Yet it wasn’t too many minutes before I did stop worrying, and actually relaxed! She held me in a waltz hold. I admit my leg muscles were obdurate, but I can find no better expression than that my spirit danced - which is something I have not for a long time, if ever, experienced - a simple sense of being in time and in tune with praise. I discovered that it’s possible to stand and enjoy worship, even with a body like mine. And I trust that if and when the time comes that my body cannot stand at all my spirit will still dance. I’m told I was standing there doing the soft shoe shuffle for more than ten minutes. Sadly Heather was leaving before the last day, and so that was my one and only dancing lesson, but not my only trusting lesson, of New Wine.

My reflections for my sceptical self (who has admittedly shrunk) include these: what on earth possesses someone to think of dancing with a stranger she’s only seen from behind in a tilt-in-space wheelchair (i.e. which shows his muscles are feeble)? What gives her the courage to go and ask him? And to risk being rebuffed? Now the obvious thing would be to pray for healing. But where did this very specific insight come from? I wasn’t sitting there at that moment wishing I was dancing. No one else was jigging about. It wasn’t a case of mind-reading - from behind! It was almost as if someone knew better than myself what I most needed. After all, physical healing, great though it would be, would at best be temporary - and, I hasten to say, I’m up for a cure whether through scientists or intercessors anytime - but to dance in worship would last somewhat longer. So, sceptical me, what’s the answer? (Sotto voce) I guess it must be God - and a woman who trusted. And what confirms that answer is the change from the shadow of hopelessness to hope, which you may recall is one of the three great gifts of the Holy Spirit which Paul writes about, “Now faith, hope and love abide, and the greatest of these is love.” Hope says, You have a future, and it’s a good one.

However, as Alan Scott enjoyed saying, “And if that was all, it would have been good....” But it wasn’t. I lost count of the signs of God’s concern after that, like the chiropractor who prayed with us in the car park. Two final incidents are enough. On the last morning our great friends, Anne and David, were up as day visitors. They’ve been friends many years and been great encouragers to say the least. Before we came home in the mid-afternoon, we were in the worship venue and I wanted to stand to sing, with Jane on my left. Suddenly David came on my right and supported me. I could think of few better scenarios, in worship between good friend and best of wives!

The man in the wheelchair wearing a green top

The last scene to report happened a few hours earlier. We were on the way out of Venue 2 when one steward asked us if we wanted prayer. Jane said no; I said yes, as there’d been mention of backs needing realignment. As people know I’ve developed a right-hand list, caused by weak muscles. I’d noticed it when I “danced” the day before. So, duly closing my eyes, I was prayed for by a couple of helpers and felt heat down my back. I’m not making a claim about the result, but what happened when I opened my eyes was this. I was faced by serried ranks of children. They were a group from the Rock Solid children’s club, who’d been looking for a man in a wheelchair wearing a green top to pray for. Why? Because in their group they’d been looking for “treasure”, i.e. asking God what he wanted them to go out and do. And that was what they “heard” him saying. And there they’d found their treasure. Would I mind them praying for me? Of course not. So Jane explained what was wrong, and some of them prayed for me. Again the sceptical could find ways to explain away the specifics of the “word” they had. I was simply moved, and stood in appreciation.

I have to say that, even in the euphoria of Great Britain’s medal success in the Olympics, I find the impact of the kingdom of God (as theologians call it), as I experienced it last week, as even better. What the week was trying to say and model was that God whose creation is the universe wants to communicate with and cares for every individual, whoever they are and whatever their needs. That’s exceedingly exciting. Furthermore it showed that human distinctions, such as gender and colour, class and education, are irrelevant in the "kingdom". What matters is the One who is at the centre. It's a very liberated and liberating world, which is worth finding. And I have to say that it's clear to me that an outbreak, or perhaps I mean "inbreak", of that kingdom would, and I trust will, be even better than a permanent Olympic summer.

Wow?

Like most people, I gather, I was blown away by the Olympic Opening Ceremony last night. It was of course technically spectacular and visually stunning. I liked the fact that there was a sort of narrative and also some irony verging on self-mockery. I can understand why a Tory MP detected a socialist agenda in Danny Boyle's extravaganza, only seeing focus on suffragettes, the NHS, and sideswipes at bankers and exploitative industrialists. However I don't think there was a party political agenda; it was more a series of a few big images of British heritage and life, strung together with a thin story line. And it was brilliantly (and extravagantly) done. The immediate reaction of many friends on Facebook has been, "Wow, wow, wow!"

Nevertheless, after I'd listened to the lighting of the cauldron (I didn't stay up to watch, but have done since then on YouTube), I lay in bed and thought, "Yes, that was a great show. I'm glad I watched the bulk of it. But do I approve?" Do I approve of the arms race of Olympic openings? The continual effort to do bigger and better than anything before - epitomised by having the torch brought by a special effects speed boat driven by a millionaire footballer and ending up with seven young athletes lighting a succession of "petals" which came together to create the "cauldron".

Once, a long time ago, there were games in ancient Greece where people competed for nothing more than a garland of herbs. (We're priding ourselves on our gold medals weighing twice as much as China's in 2008 - get a life!) Once the Olympics were strictly for amateurs. Now our athletes are highly rewarded professionals. Once a single athlete ran into a stadium and lit the Olympic torch alone.

It's sad, I think, that corporate sponsorship - "the Cocalympics" - and the entertainment industry have such a stranglehold on the Olympic movement that no one has the bottle to say, "Enough is enough. Money is needed more elsewhere. We do not have to be bigger and better." I agreed with Trevor Nelson on the BBC commentary team who, during the parade of the athletes, said something like, "This, to me, is always the best part of the ceremony - seeing the national athletes who have trained so hard for so long, coming into the stadium." That is what the Games are about. Let's have less of the competitive corporate razzamatazz, and more simplicity.

Chameleons change colour depending where they are

I'm not going to comment on the rights and wrongs of the issue of "gay" or "equal" marriage, since I've already blogged about it here, "Humpty Dumpty or Brave new world?". As you may remember the principle that most concerned me was governments trying change reality by redefining language. I'm happy for people who love each other to live together with long-term commitment. And I readily concede that Christians, including me, have been slow to wish them well, for which I'm sorry.

However this time I'm concerned with the nature of politics and the behaviour of politicians in particular. You may remember that before Christmas the Prime Minister made a much trumpeted speech to church leaders in Oxford, of which the Daily Mail's headline was "Speak up for Christianity, Cameron tells Archbishop: PM calls on the Church to defend 'values and moral code' of the Bible". Earlier this week he made a speech (not so widely publicised) to prominent members of the gay, lesbian and bi-sexual community,  in Downing Street of which the Telegraph's headline was "We will legalise gay marriage by 2015, says David Cameron. David Cameron has given a personal guarantee to legalise gay marriage by 2015 - despite unease among his own MPs and his core Conservative supporters. The best account of what he said on each occasion was here:
http://conservativehome.blogs.com/thetorydiary/2011/12/david-cameron-we-are-a-christian-country-and-we-should-not-be-afraid-to-say-so.html, and here:
http://news.pinkpaper.com/NewsStory/7584/25/07/2012/david-cameron-calls-on-churches-to-get-behind-gay-marriage.aspx. I'm sure he would deny it, but it looks very much like a case of saying what your audience wants to hear. "But surely that's the stock in trade of all politicians?" I fear you may be right, but if so it's a sad state of affairs. There once was a phrase "conviction politics". You knew what a politician stood for, what their convictions were. Now it's a case of "focus-group" or "opinion-poll politics" and politicians are merely reflections of what they think we want to hear.

For me, the comedy "Twenty Twelve" has been the redeeming feature of all the Olympic hype to which we have been subjected in an ever-increasing crescendo. Most wonderful of all, emerging from the PR company, Perfect Curve, like a star, has been the character of Siobhan, with her indomitable optimism and unsurpassed ability to do instantaneous u-turns and to create mutually contradictory concepts: Watch Siobhan Sharpe in full flow. In the final episode, which you can still watch on iPlayer, Siobhan's stream of consciousness has infected the rest of the Olympic Deliverance Team, "totally, guys. So that's good!" I even detected some Siobhanisms in the chef de mission of Team GB on BBC Radio 4 this morning. (By the way, that's a phrase that really makes me grind my teeth - something Jane's trying to cure me of - "team GB". It's not just the phrase, though why we can't just use our country's name like every other nation defeats me; it's also the religious uniformity (no, that's unfair to religions) with which commentators use it. Clearly a governmental edict has gone forth, and those who transgress and say "Great Britain" face being thrown on to the fiery scrapheap.) Oh for the return of the individual!

Kenyan chameleon - Superstock photo

With Siobhan it is great entertainment. One of my friends described her as her "fave English person", which is fine as long as she's a caricature on screen. But when our politicians adopt her modus operandi of sailing with whatever wind is prevailing at that moment, "absolutely", then it is a danger signal. In fact people responded to the likes of Margaret Thatcher and Ken Livingstone because, agree with them or not, their principles were clear and consistent. When I consider the Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition, or the Leader and Deputy Leader of Her Government, I'm not sure I recognise any clear convictions between them, except to try to please people. They're like chameleons. I clearly remember my one encounter with one of these wonders of nature outside my temporary home in Kenya. He, or she, was a handsome creature. But I don't want my politicians to be chameleons, changing their colour according to their background. Above all, I don't want a Prime Minister named David Chameleon. Even so, I trust he's able to have a relaxing and hard-earned holiday with his family this summer. Despite the perks, he has a tough job. Bless him!

Oh Lordsy Lords

Two things concern me over reform of the House of Lords - well, three in fact. I get the point that there seem to be too many of the chaps and chappesses - and judging by some bishops' expenses they don't come cheap (not to mention those archaic robes). But I'd have thought a reasonable retirement age might sort that out for a start. However here's the thing.

1  We're told there doesn't need to be a referendum about it because the electorate have already been given the opportunity to vote about it - at the general election. A commitment to Lords' reform was in the three main parties' manifestoes, we're told. QED. Eergh? What choice did that give the population then? I suppose, theoretically, if that was the overriding issue for you, you could have voted for the Monster Raving Loony Party. However in practice the choice between 'Yes', 'Yes', or 'Yes' is no choice at all. In other words, the electorate has expressed no opinion on Lords' reform.

2  If it ain't broke, don't mend it, and certainly don't mend it in a hurry.

3  And this is the most significant, in my view. The down-side of electing peers is that you will change the nature of the House. Admittedly some peers at present are career politicians (come up and out through the Commons) and more have taken a party whip (in other words they're more likely to toe the party line), the present house has a distinct weight of those who haven't sought power but who are disinterested and distinguished people who have been asked to serve. The Clegg proposal will radically lighten this weight, and therefore the Lords' will have less of a critical voice and more of a party one. I suspect I'm not alone in wanting less party politics in Parliament and more wisdom.