sustain:if:able kiwi

social impact of religious practices: pilots and letter boxes

I’m researching the social impact of selected religious practices. The 12 month research project is funded by John Templeton, located in the University of Birmingham and administered through the University of Otago, where I am a Research Affiliate with the Centre for Theology and Public Issues.

I am using an action research approach, in which I invite people to share a selected religious practice for a period of time. I conduct a survey at the start and end, using several established psychological scales, to explore if participants experience any changes in aspects of social connection and human flourishing. I ask participants to keep a journal, writing weekly about their experience of the practice. I also host a focus group in which participants reflect together on their experience of the religious practice. These three modes of gathering information uncover how religious practices are experienced in relation to social aspects.

In November, I gained ethics approval.

In December, I began a pilot. Undertaking a pilot allows me to get things up and running. It also gives me feedback on different parts of the research, testing the questions I am asking and understanding how much time is involved.

This pilot involves working with a local congregation who have an established religious practice. During Advent, the congregation are invited into four weeks of slowing and silence in daily life. This is facilitated by lighting a candle for a defined period of time. The practice occurs during the worship service. People are also invited to take and light a candle daily in their homes, as a way of continuing the practice in daily life. During Advent, the length of silence slowly increases (in this case, one minute in week one, two minutes in week two, and so on). Could this practice, of slowing and being silent, impact social connection and human flourishing?

In this pilot, I am testing two of my three modes of data gathering. Participants interested in being part of the research have given their ethical consent. They have each been sent a survey. They have also been given a journal, in which they are invited to respond each week to four questions about their experience.

Which meant that this week my time as a researcher included dropping journals in letter boxes and wondering what people will write, as they reflect on their experience of this particular religious practice. Such is the joy of undertaking empirical research into the real life experiences of religious practices in daily life.

The social impact of selected religious practices research project is one of seven different research projects I am currently involved in. For example, I’m also involved in researching digital activism, experiences of reading out loud, knitting as craftivism and race, justice and mission in the history of Oceania. Plus I’m undertaking longitudinal evaluations of different interventions in two church organisations and have just wrapped up a project writing resources to encourage ecological readings of Advent and Christmas Bible readings.

The Social Impacts of Listening Practices in Religious Organisations

The Social Impacts of Listening Practices in Religious Organisations: A pilot study*

This project applies research related to the science of listening to analyse how religious practices might contribute to social connection and human flourishing.

In religious settings, the importance of listening is emphasised. A range of religious activities could be said to facilitate listening, including contemplation, confession, examen and lectio divina. However, there is little theoretical or empirical research into the social dynamics surrounding these religious practices. In psychology, there is a growing body of research into the science of listening and how attention, comprehension, and intention contribute to social connection and human flourishing.

Hence, research is needed to understand how selected religious practices contribute to social connection and human flourishing in religious organisations. This twelve month pilot study will
• undertake a literature review to assess religious practices against the psychological framework of listening structures and listening as attention, comprehension, and intention
• conduct a real-world intervention by offering selected religious practices in small group settings in local religious communities
• conduct mixed-methods research to assess the social impacts of these interventions. Two religious practices will be offered. Quantitative data will be gathered using pre- and post-intervention psychological measures to assess social impact over time. Qualitative data will be gathered from participant observation, participant research diaries and summative focus groups exploring how religious practices contribute to social connection and human flourishing.

Hence, the research project will offer theoretical, practical and foundational benefits. Theoretically, the project creates an interdisciplinary dialogue between listening research in psychology and religious practices. Practically, the project sheds light on how religious practices might foster stronger connections within religious communities. Foundationally, this pilot study will guide further research into the social impact of religious practices.

The research project offers an exciting mix of academic outputs in psychologically-informed theology and research shared with religious communities and religious leaders. Some of the outputs include
• an academic article
• a conference presentation
• an online presentation of findings to interested church leaders
• an online workshop inviting interested researchers and religious leaders to consider further research into the role of listening in community building

For enquiries or to register interest in the online presentation or online workshop, please email s.j.taylor at otago.ac.nz (Research Affiliate, University of Otago | Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka; Psychology Cross-Training Fellow, University of Birmingham; Director AngelWings Ltd).

*This project was made possible through the support of a grant from John Templeton Foundation, awarded via the grant entitled “New Perspectives on Social Psychology and Religious Cognition for Theology: Training and Developing Science-Engaged Theologians,” University of Birmingham.

Visualising climate change activism – Edinburgh IASH seminar

I’m delivering a Work-in-Progress seminar on Thursday 27 June at 13:00 BST as part of my Visiting Research Fellowship. In the tentative and exploratory nature of work-in-progess, here’s my work today as I conducted an interview to reflect on online images, transcribed the interview, then did an initial thematic analysis of the 4010 words.

Visualising climate change activism: A visual grammar beginning with online Pacific/indigenous eco-theologies

My research at IASH is focused on grassroots digital activism and how organisations use social media to activate for climate justice. This research could have practical outworkings for organisations seeking to activate online for climate justice and theoretical implications in challenging Euro-centric theorisations of digital activism and visual grammars.

My initial challenge, and in outworking the IASH 2021-2024 theme of decoloniality, is how to research online images produced by indigenous communities. I propose an interdisciplinary side-by-side method that weaves visual grammar approaches from sociolinguistics and talanoa, a Pacific term for sharing stories in the space between. Such a side-by-side methodology could respect the interpretive visual resources of local communities and honour their commitment to communicate through the globalised flows of what is a world wide web.

Folk can join in-person in the IASH Seminar Room, or contact me for a zoom link to join the webinar.

Psalms as builders of solidarity

Psalms are a prayer book. First the Jewish people, then down through the centuries in the Christian church, the Psalms have given voice to the full range of human emotion. There are happy Psalms, event Psalms, sad Psalms and angry Psalms. Psalms remind us that God is present in all of life; that no matter how we’re feeling, there are words that can give voice to all our emotions and feelings.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

Psalms help us pray for ourselves. Psalms also help us pray for others. We can do this by reading a Psalm slowly, phrase by phrase, and by taking the time to let the words of the Psalm connect us with the experience of other people.

Let’s look at Psalm 107. First, verse 3, God has brought back from foreign countries. Now because of pandemic lockdowns, not many of us can say these words. Not many of us get to travel back from foreign countries. But there are plenty of people in our world this week who are travelling. So we use this Psalm to pray for travellers. We think of refugees and those looking after MIQ facilities. So the words of the Psalm help us build solidarity with the experience of other people, who are travelling even if we’re not.

Verse 4 Some wandered in the trackless desert. Again, I suspect that not many of us have got lost in the desert. But there are plenty of people impacted by the Tigray War in Ethiopia. Which includes reports of mass killings of civilians, and people forced to flee into the desert. So we use this Psalm to think of people in Ethiopia. So the words of the Psalm connect with the experience of other people, who are displaced by war even if we’re not.

Verse 10 Some were living in gloom and darkness, prisoners suffering. Again, I suspect that not many have been released from prison this week. But there were 649 people in NZ in 2020 who completed community work sentences and were freed into society. So we use this Psalm to think of New Zealanders who completed community work sentences. We pray these 649 people will be surrounded by good support structures in making good decisions.

Verse 17 Some were fools and there is suffering because of our actions. Again, I suspect not many of us are happy to stand and admit to each other that we’d been a fool and that people have suffered the consequences of our actions. But here in Dunedin we do have a problem with people running red lights. And there can be tragic consequences when we are foolish and break the road rules. So we use this Psalm to think about drivers. We pray that all drivers, no matter their age, will drive not foolishly, but wisely and in ways that don’t put other people’s lives at risk.

Verse 23, Some sailed. Again, I suspect that not many of us here this week have sailed the ocean in ships. But we do live just down the road from a major Port. So we use this Psalm to pray for every sailor in every ship that has birthed in our ports this week. We pray for protection for them, for good decisions during storms and safe return to their families.

So this is how Psalms help us think of others. They help build solidarity with migrants, refugees, those who suffer and those who sail. We do that by taking the time to let the words in the Psalm connect us with the experience of other people.

practically practicing kindness in times of scarcity

I was asked to provide some spiritual input into a gathering of denominational Ministry Educators last week. KCML was invited to be present given a warm appreciation for the knowledge and insight we are currently providing in areas of mission and innovation. The input I offered was at the end, as folk began to travel to the airport and homeward.

I begin with an ending. When I finish, I will offer thankyou cards as a takeway. They will be here on the table.

I’ve been on Outside Study leave for three months earlier this year. I had some aims. I wanted to finish a book on mission and innovation for SCM press. I wanted to present research on life-long learning at a teaching and learning conference and complete a journal article in mission crossing cultures and spend time in indigenous contexts and I wanted to walk daily.

Alongside planned outputs, I also wanted to be open to surprise, the unexpected encounters. I found this in a book by Janet Martin Soskice called the The Kindness of God: Metaphor, Gender, and Religious Language. Through a set of unexpected research moments, I find myself reading, then re-reading, about the kindness of God. It was an image that stuck with me.

• How does God relate to me? In what ways do I value and experience God as kind?

• How do I relate to others? What does it mean for me to extend kindness?

In the Hebrew, the word for kindness is hesed. It’s a mix of God as faithful and god ask kindness. It appears in the book of Ruth, in 1:8, “May the Lord deal kindly with you.”

What is interesting is that Ruth 1 is all about scarcity.

• physical scarcity – times of famine and the absence of food
• cultural scarcity – moving from Israel to Moab means a crossing cultures into new language and new patterns
• relational scarcity – moving to another community, then losing husbands means a scarcity of relationships
• generational scarcity – losing husbands means, in that culture, the end of that family line, the line of Elimilech.

And in the middle of scarcity, there is this understanding of God as kind.

Times of scarcity can produce  other responses. There can be competition for limited resources, a hoarding of what is precious, grief at the loss of what was, fear of having no future.

Yet in Ruth 1, God is kind. This shapes how we might relate to God – as kind – and how we might relate to others – with kindness.

We live in a time of scarcity. There is physical scarcity, as the Presbyterian church declines. There is cultural scarcity as new migrants and new cultures appear in our communities. There is generational scarcity, as we see our children and youth leave our churches.  It is easy to respond by competing, by hoarding, by being afraid.

Yet in times of scarcity, God is kind and this shapes how I relate to God and how I relate to others.

So in the last few months, I’ve wondered what practically it means for me – in this time and place of scarcity – to be kind? For me, it has involved hand-written thankyou cards. It is so rare to receive a letter these days. It is so easy in the church to be critical and impatient. So I have started to send random hand-written thankyou cards – to people I see in action, to people at a distance, or in a committee that I work in – in which I use words to express kindness for what they do.

As we leave, as we return to contexts of scarcity, you might want to join me. Take a card. As you sit on airplane, why not write a handwritten thankyou card. Express in actions that Hebrew word hesed and the ways of the God of Ruth – a God of kindness.

Photo by Sandrachile on Unsplash

Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen theological film review

Monthly I write a film review for Touchstone (the New Zealand Methodist magazine). Stretching back to 2005, some 140 plus films later, here is the review for June 2019

Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen
A film review by Rev Dr Steve Taylor

Merata Mita, Ngāti Pikiao and Ngāi Te Rangi, was a pioneering Māori filmmaker, the first Maori woman to solely write and direct a dramatic feature film. Her work included documentaries like Bastion Point: Day 507 (1980) and Patu! (1983), feature films like Mauri (1988) and music video Waka, for hip-hop artist Che Fu.

Merata became internationally respected as an indigenous film maker, teaching documentary film making at the University of Hawai’i-Manoa and recognized by the Sundance Film Festival’s Native Film Initiative.

Heperi Mita, Merata’s youngest son, born long after Bastion Point: Day 507 and Patu!, surprised by Merata’s sudden death aged 68, sets out to discover his mother. He begins by turning to the film archives at Ngā Taonga, spooling through the abundance of Merata’s film and television appearances. Having watched the past, Heperi then cleverly splices in the present, interviewing his siblings to gain their human story on his mothers cinematic past. Thus Merata becomes a film about a film, in which a film maker and her family is filmed by her family.

Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen is an uncovering of Merata’s work: located in her experience, of being Maori, raised in rural Maketu, a woman, a victim of domestic violence, a solo mother raising four children in urban Auckland. It is equally an affirmation of culture. For Merata, as Maori film maker, she is working in continuity with the carvings crafted by her grandfather for the wharenui. Both carving and film are image and story through which life speaks.

Decolonisation is related to the search for justice. Decolonisation pays attention not to individual acts of protest, but to the processes of liberation by which indigenous communities are freed from the colonial imposition of imperialism, patriarchy and racism. Decolonisation sounds academic but it is as simple as a Maori woman finding her voice, as tough as Merata turning a camera on the reality of Police brutality during the 1981 Springbook Tour.

Merata is a profoundly theological film, an indigenous meditation on resurrection. The first words we hear are theological, Heperi’s announcement that “A resurrection is taking place. Our hearts and spirit respond as the past lives again. She shows me things as I hear her again.”

At one level, it introduces Heperi’s spooling through the archives.

At another level, it affirms that the past brings revelation, ushering in a search for justice in which a whole person transformation is possible.

At times Merata felt a bit like Jesus in the garden, calling Mary Magdalene to declare to the disciples that they are now part of a new family, gathered around ‘my God and your God’ (John 20.17). These five words spoken by Mary Magdalene are an echo of the words spoken by Ruth, a migrant woman, to Naomi, a solo mother, as together they seek to find a community in which they can be fed amid the poverty of a famine.

In these five words, the resurrection becomes a call to decolonise. All those who respond to ‘my God and your God’ are finding a community in which women have voice and the poor are given daily bread. Which leaves the church – having heard ‘my God and your God’ – with the question: what might we need to decolonise?

For this Sabbath time

For this Sabbath time
A stroll in life’s light
Illuminated in silence
Divine with human

In steps
Of writing
First expressions
Tracing the light in dark of community, institution, structure

A path
Hewn in love
God’s marks of mission
Tihei mauri ora
-Now read again, from bottom to top

Craftivism in (Transitional) Cathedral Extra

In September last year, I was asked to speak at the Transitional (Anglican) Cathedral in Christchurch. It was a 30 minute talk as part of Prophets in the Cathedral, a combined event run by the Diocesan Education Office and the Cathedral. I was delighted to be asked and I really enjoyed putting something new together. I wanted to look a fresh expressions of mission and in ways that a Cathedral congregation might find new possibilities and in ways consistent with their Anglican understandings of mission.

To my delight, the Dean was so enthusiastic about what I said that he that he emailed afterward asking if a summary of my talk could be used in the Cathedral Extra, the quarterly magazine, which goes to supporters all over Christchurch. It was quite an integrating (weaving) experience for me to knit (pun intended) reading and ideas together from various places in the last 5 years.

What I wrote appeared late in November. I got the back page and all!

Craft-ivism is as simple as the joining of two words: Craft + activism. It is a form of activism, centred on domestic craft (Greer, Knitting for Good!: A Guide to Creating Personal, Social, and Political Change Stitch by Stitch, 2008). It tends to utilise needlework, including yarn-bombing and cross-stitch and value collective empowerment and creative expression. It has been linked with elements of anti-capitalism, environmentalism and solidarity.

For those who like practical examples, it is the knitting of Christmas angels. In the UK, in 2014, some 2870 Christmas angels were knitted and left in public places, with a message of Christian love. By 2016, this had risen to 45,930 (http://www.christmasangel.net). Domestic craft had become a way of spreading good news in public places.

In 2008 four women in a small Methodist Church in the middle of a housing estate near Liverpool, met to knit prayer shawls for the bereaved and those in hospital. Then they moved to blankets for the local women’s refuge, followed by hats for shoebox appeals overseas. Everything they knitted, they would lay hands and pray for those who would receive the finished items. Three years later, by 2011, that initial group of four women had grown to sixty, meeting weekly to knit and pray, many with no previous church connection. Many of these women were calling Knit Natter their church. The story of Knit and Natter is a fresh expression is analysed by Christine Dutton in Ecclesial Practices 1(1), 31 – 50).

These are contemporary stories. Yet craft-ivism is deeply rooted in the Christian tradition. In Acts 9, Dorcas crafts clothes for widows, an activity that mirrors the diaconal activity of Acts 6. Her craft-ivism builds a community of widow’s who have found a strong, clear and articulate voice, able to show a visiting Peter what the Gospel looks like in their community.

The Anglican church has five faces of mission and there are elements of all five faces in the work of Dorcas:

• in nurture and teaching of people – and nurture is what Tabitha is offering to the widows; while teaching is there in the sharing of craft across generations
• in loving service – and the robes and clothes offered to widows are a wonderful example of practical ministry
• in proclaiming the gospel – demonstrating Christian community to Peter
• in transforming society – given that in New Testament times, widows were poor and lacked protection, yet finding in Tabitha an advocate
• in caring for creation – seen in the role of upcycling as garments are fashioned and re-fashioned

This example from the New Testament suggests that craft-ivism is rooted in Christian history.

Turning, to the Old Testament, God is a craft-ivist in Proverbs 22:2; “the Lord is the maker.” Drawing on the Old Testament wisdom literature, theologians like Paul Fiddes (Seeing the World and Knowing God: Hebrew Wisdom and Christian Doctrine in a Late-Modern Context)and David Kelsey (Eccentric Existence: A Theological Anthropology (2-Volume Set)), argue that to be fully human involves being like God

• practicing delight (crafting)
• practicing wonder (making)
• practicing perseverance (a discipline known to all crafters and makers)

Craft-ivism is thus a human participation with God the maker.  What is significant about Proverbs 22 is that God’s craft-ivism is then located in the context of justice and mutuality.  We see this in verse 9 – “Those who are generous are blessed; for they share their bread with the poor.” Hence Proverbs 22 provides a way to think Christianly about prophetic craft-ivism.

Bird prayers: contextual Spirit at Pentecost

I was asked to do a workshop at the NZ Association of Religious Education Teachers and School Chaplains (NZARETSC).  The theme was On the Thermals of Grace, so given the theme, I offered Bird prayers – a workshop which reflected on the theology of the Spirit by looking at bird images in the Bible and then pondering NZ birds in order to invite folk to write contemporary-Kiwi-Spirit-as-bird-prayers.

A creative spark was the New Zealand bank notes, which each feature a different indigenous New Zealand bird.

$5 – Hoiho (yellow eyed penguin)
$10 – Whio (Blue duck)
$20 – Kārearea (NZ Falcon)
$50 – Kōkako (Blue wattled crow)
$100 – Mohua (Yellowhead)

So I printed off some different bank notes and put different notes/birds on seats.

This meant that when folk arrived and chose a seat, they were choosing a bird, which they were then invited to use in writing a prayer at the end of the workshop. I wove in some Rupert of Duetz (in The Holy Spirit: Classic and Contemporary Readings), who weaves Spirit in creation, with Spirit in baptism and Spirit in mission. Plus the missiology of Kirsteen Kim, The Holy Spirit in the World: A Global Conversation who provides a person of colour critique of the Christian use of the dove, as promoting a whiteness which diminishes pneumatology.

the use of the dove alone is distinctly unhelpful in communicating the reality of the Spirit of God … The dove is very white … and does not do justice to all the dimensions of the Holy Spirit or to the nature of reconciliation that the Spirit brings … we have captured the dove of freedom and power and caged it.” (Kirsteen Kim, The Holy Spirit in the World: A Global Conversation. 180).

And so we turned to the birds of New Zealand:

Whakarongo! Whakarongo! Whakarongo!
ki te tangi a te manu e karanga nei

Listen, Listen, Listen
To the cry of the bird calling – chant by Eruera Stirling, in Tears of Rangi: Experiments Across Worlds by Anne Salmond

The result was some beautiful prayers, richly located in New Zealand experience. A fun workshop. Thanks for asking me NZARETSC. For those interested, my workshop resources are here: On the thermals of grace bird prayers workshop notes

Can those fines: graced redemption in a modern space

An email a few weeks ago from the University library. With winter approaching, it was an invitation to bring an item for a food bank. In exchange, a library fine forgiven.

I pondered the grace. A call to participate in making the world a better place. In exchange, redemption, as my shame (a library fine), was redeemed.

A lesson for all those who seek to communicate. The easy way is to point the finger, to name the blame. Such is the cry of fundamentalism.

The sliding way is to ignore the sin. “Don’t judge me” is the cry of tolerance. Yet, as London Grammar remind us, truth is a beautiful thing.

“Miles and miles on my own
Walk with shame, I follow on
…
You’ll be on your knees and struggle under the weight
Oh, the truth would be a beautiful thing
Oh, the truth is a beautiful thing” (Truth Is A Beautiful Thing)

Hence the intriguing way is to invite me to participate anew in mission, in ways that name my shame, all the while immersing it in grace.

“Can those fines” did that. It was graced redemption in a modern space, a lesson in speaking the gospel.

a daily sabbath: urgent, important, necessary and restore

The last 15 days have been very intense here at KCML. A Pre-intern block course of 6 days to bring our incoming interns up to speed was immediately followed by a Summer block course of 9 days. In addition, KCML:Dunedin hosted a variety of public events, including our inaugural lecture and winetasting, a creation care workshop and a Christian education event resourcing children and youth workers. All told, we’ve resourced over 130 people over the Summer blockcourse, engaging all sorts of ministers, leaders and lay folk from the wider church. It’s been great.

I woke this morning aware that in the intensity, a good number of tasks have been left undone. “This is a really busy spell, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” has been a necessary, and valid, response. The result is a building inbox of necessary and urgent tasks. Equally, 15 intense days mean I’m personally tired and drained. Yes, I will take time off to relax. But this tempts me into a binary: days working either on relaxing or on the necessary and urgent.

In recent days, I have also been pondering the creation story of Genesis 1. At the end of six days work, God enters a sabbath rest. Hurrah for weekends. Yet equally, during every day of work, God is also pausing, to name things as good. Every bit of hard work is enjoyed not in hindsight, while relaxing, but also in the moment. In other words, in Genesis 1, a sabbath pattern is both daily and weekly.

Pondering this, I found myself drawing a quadrant with four parts – urgent, important, necessary and restore.

This gives me a way to structure my day. Daily, I will seek to spend time in each of these four quadrants. For every urgent task, I will also undertake a necessary task. For every necessary task, I will undertake a restoration task. As I gain energy from some restoration, I will invest that in an important task. And so on, around the quadrant: a daily sabbath pattern.

I have run off copies of the quadrant on the photocopier. As I finished work today, I used a copy and reflected my way around the quadrant.

• Important and I noted the sending of an email about work needed for a meeting next Wednesday.
• Urgent and I had supplied some words to a colleague needed them for an event on Friday.
• Necessary and I noted thankyou letters written to three folk involved in our blockcourse.
• Restore and I recalled lunch outdoors in the sunshine and an end of work drink with the team.

Tomorrow when I arrive, another day will await me. I will write out my to-do list, making sure there are tasks in  each of the four quadrants. In so doing, I will be entering a daily sabbath pattern.

visual examen: colour in prayer

We finish each day of our internship intensives with a daily examen.

Examen – defined as a prayerful reflection on the events of the day in order to detect God’s presence and grow in understanding how God is present.

Mixed with a morning devotion and a lunchtime intercession, it provides a three-stranded pattern of prayer that weaves through our block course intensives. The danger is that examens become essentially word based – more words at the end of a day full of words in a classroom.

So today, in order to engage our eyes and our sense of touch, I offered a visual examen. I cut up red, green and yellow card into different shapes and grouped them on plates. I walked around the room, offering first red, then green, then yellow. As people chose a colour, I asked them questions to reflect on their day.

• Red – a strong emotion (how did you feel? who was there? what was said before and after? where was God)
• Green – a moment of growth (a learning? an insight? a challenge? a connection?). Give thanks to God for these gifts.
• Yellow – a joy (a moment in relationship? a joke from a colleague? Give thanks to God for these gifts.

I then read a Scripture – Philippians 3:8, 10. “More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ. I want to know Christ[a] and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death.” It was a reminder of the importance of surrender into the shape of Christ, an invitation to release.

I located one of the icons I have written during my time in Australia (here’s a video of me talking about icons as spiritual practise) and placed it flat, as a sort of plate. I then invited people to place their colours on the icon, as a way of releasing our day to God, returning the gift we’d been given and surrendering ourselves to being in Christ.

Praying in crisis: the implications for chaplains from an empirical study of how local churches respond to global events

Abstract acceptance. Delighted to be presenting with my partner, Lynne Taylor, at the Chaplaincy in Aotearoa New Zealand: Telling Our Stories conference, December 2-3. It will be a public outing from empirical research we did into how local churches respond in worship to global events.

Praying in crisis: the implications for chaplains from an empirical study of how local churches respond to global events

Steve Taylor and Lynne Taylor

Chaplains often find themselves as a Christian presence in the midst of crisis. This can present a particular set of challenges regarding how to speak of the nature of God and humanity in tragedy. How to think of faith in the midst of unexpected suffering? What resources might Christian ministry draw upon?

Over 150 survey responses were received. In the midst of global tragedy, how had the church prayed? What might be learnt from these moments of lex orandi, lex credendi? This paper will address these questions. It will outline the resources used and the theologies at work. Particular attention will be paid to the curating of “word-less space”, given the widespread use of non-verbal elements in the data. The implications for those who pray in tragedy will be considered, with particular attention to the ministry of chaplaincy.

Flags as lament: Brooke Fraser for Paris, Beirut, Kenya and violence

Brooke Fraser’s song “Flags” (from the 2010 Flags) album) became a place of thoughtful healing over the weekend. Certainly the weekend brought news that was “plenty of trouble, from which we’re all reeling.” The suggestion, to “listen,” to news of lives flapping empty (“our lives blow about, Like flags on the land)”.

There is something disturbing, challenging even, in the line “My enemy and I are one and the same.” The reminder that Jihadists are humans, who have mothers and brothers, and they will awake today to grieve a dead son. What will they be feeling? And to wonder what drives a human, a person born vulnerable like me, to such extreme acts.

And then her turning to Scripture; with the verses that reference the Beautitudes. In these verses (pun intended) is a place to feel – “to mourn, to weep.” In these verses is faith, not in triumph but in reversal; for the innocents who have fallen and the monsters who have stood; “I know the last shall me first.”

Which gives me a place to act: To listen, to feel, to retain the will to faith. Thanks Brooke.

Come, tell me your trouble
I’m not your answer
But I’m a listening ear

Reality has left you reeling
All facts and no feeling
No faith and all fear

I don’t know why a good man will fall
While a wicked one stands
And our lives blow about
Like flags on the land

Who’s at fault is not important
Good intentions lie dormant
And we’re all to blame

While apathy acts like an ally
My enemy and I are one and the same

I don’t know why the innocents fall
While the monsters still stand
And our lives blow about
Like flags on the land

I don’t know why our words are so proud
Yet their promise so thin
And our lives blow about
Like flags in the wind

Oh oh oh oh

You who mourn will be comforted
You who hunger will hunger no more
All the last shall be first
Of this I am sure

You who weep now will laugh again
All you lonely, be lonely no more
Yes, the last will be first
Of this I’m sure

I don’t know why the innocents fall
While the monsters stand
I don’t know why the little ones thirst
But I know the last shall be first
I know the last shall be first
I know the last shall be first

For more of my writing on lament and popular culture, see U2 and lament for Pike River; which became a book chapter in Spiritual Complaint: The Theology and Practice of Lament, when I worked with a colleague, Liz Boase, to explore Paul Kelly’s concert response to the Black Saturday bushfires and U2’s response to the Pike River mining tragedy.