On Thursday this week I was at the city’s Cohesion and Diversity
Forum, which met at the Posh ground.
This is a collection of statutory and community representatives that
looks at matters of concern for how our city coheres and lives with the
differences that there are among us. It
brings together the police, council, education and community groups. The main subject for our meeting was how to
respond to radicalization, the process through which young people can be
attracted to extremist groups and led astray.
The use of mobile technology and social media not surprisingly featured,
but so did personal contact on which these build. For me, though, the crucial question was
about how someone responds when they see a video of something violent, be it a
missile blowing up a building and everyone inside or of a beheading in the
desert. Quite simply do they glorify or
horrify at what they have seen. Does the
image revolt or excite? Do they
celebrate the violence or are they appalled at the death and hatred?
Glorifying or horrifying at what we see takes us several stages
back to look at what shapes the character.
The building blocks of this are as complex as all people are, but they
touch on who we see as being equal and to be honoured, and who we don’t. They concern how we think a cause is to be advanced
and whether we feel we are being listened to.
The would-be radicalisers build on feelings of alienation, of someone not
feeling that they count, and that no one else is listening to them. They are given a distorted image of what the
future could be like ‘if you join us’.
But the violence builds on a view of the other as being other than us,
not one of us, not a brother or sister or a cousin unknown. The Wars of the Roses, in which King Richard
III died at Bosworth, which was in the centre of our focus recently, were battles between cousins seeking power. Being related does not necessarily make us
friendly and we all know there are dysfunctional families. This is a departure from how we want it to
be; we know that belonging matters and kindred is an identity-shaping form of
belonging. When it is fractured
something deep inside us is fractured too.
The power of the creation stories in Genesis is that they depict all
humanity sharing the same ancestry; we are all brothers and sisters, belong to
the same human family. War fractures the
bond which should unite, reveals the fissure in the family; it breaks the
fundamental bond and sense of who we are.
So do radicalizing politicians and groups.
Who do you picture in this reflection on radicalizing? We are familiar with the extremists of
ISIS. But the glorifying and the
horrifying are not limited to any particular faith or cultural group. It is something we can all find within us and
so the roots of radicalization and violence are within all of us, depending on
what it is that shapes our character, our approach to others. The examples discussed at the meeting on
Thursday included teenagers being attracted to travel to Syria, environmental
terrorists who attack scientists working on genetic crops and animal
experimentation, and so called ‘British’ political extremist groups. They could include the Christian fanatics who
attack those who take a different stance to them on abortion or sexuality. Extremism is not limited to any one culture;
it is how we mishandle the differences that we all have between us.
In these days of Eastertide, between the resurrection and the Day
of Pentecost, we are brought to celebrate the key faith that defines us, that
shapes who we are, our character. It is
based and grounded in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is a faith of life and hope, of welcome
and gracious embrace. It is a gospel of
peace and good will, of life triumphing over death. It is worth being reminded of this, because
it is foundational. It is also something
which should boost confidence and not despair.
Even when the worst takes place, and it can and does, life will triumph,
God will have the final word.
The reports of violence against the vulnerable fill our news. Syria has an ancient Christian church, which
still speaks Aramaic, the language of Jesus.
They are in danger of being exterminated, wiped out by violent
extremists. The Archbishop of Canterbury
is today visiting the Coptic Church in Egypt, another church suffering great
persecution at the moment. We can feel
more or less powerless to stop this without triggering a major war. That is probably what those carrying out
these atrocities would like to see happen.
There is a stark reality that when the violent are intent on bloodshed,
there is very little that will stop them, nothing short of a change of
heart. It is too late to do the work
that changes glorifying into horrifying.
The history of humanity has seen this many times over. In the long run, the power of justice,
cohesion and building the common good prevail, cut through and come to
prominence. But the steps to get there
are painful and blood-soaked. And yet,
those suffering at the sharp end here refuse to give up their faith in Jesus’
triumph over death, in the hope of his resurrection. It is inspirational for the passion and the
commitment, the strength of conviction that shapes and defines them. In their shoes, none of us know how we would
respond. The closest I’ve seen is being
with the dying and it is very moving when, in those moments, faith shines
through. This is not a moment for
lightly held beliefs. This is a moment
for what really matters and the light within them is what matters most of all,
defining who they are. Life is embraced, released and death accepted in the
hope of Jesus who suffered violence and abuse and yet rose victorious. Christus Victor, the Christ who stands in
glory but displaying the marks on his hands and feet, the marks of suffering
and death, is the image of Christ that I prefer. Not an empty cross, not a dying cross, but a
Christ who has passed through, still showing the wounds – his credentials for
those enduring suffering today, and who shows where the ultimate victory
lies. This is where I glorify. This is the character to define and set the
tone for images of violence and those who would seek to divide us. This is the basis for me of a politics of
hope as we approach a General Election.
We saw this in our readings.
The resurrected Christ who appeared to his disciples showed his wounds,
calling them to be witnesses to proclaim repentance and forgiveness, life over
death (Luke 24:36-48). Peter
addressing the crowd after healing the crippled beggar, talks of the common
heritage as descendants of Abraham, which is fulfilled in God glorifying Jesus
who had been rejected and killed. He is
described as the Author of Life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses, he says (Acts
3:12-19).
Living as witnesses of the victory of Christ over death, of hope
over despair and love over hatred, matters enormously as we approach the
challenges of the world today. It is the
character which means when we see videos or news film of missiles destroying
buildings with people inside, or at the other extreme beheadings, we do not
glorify these. It is a challenge because
we are drip-fed a daily diet of ‘them vs. us’, of films where the solution is
violence not restorative justice or rebuilding the bonds of affinity. We are in a year which has commemorations of
World Wars and my week also included an invitation to lead prayers at the War
Memorial on the 70th anniversary of VE Day on 8th
May. I will need to think of the theme
to approach that through, but celebrating the rebuilding and the peace which
ensued seems particularly important.
That peace includes the foundation of the NHS which means I can ignore
adverts for medical insurance I can’t afford.
Making ‘Alleluia’ our song becomes an anthem to define our
character. We live as witnesses to the
hope in Jesus Christ who triumphed over the sting of death and opens for us the
way of life and peace. In that we glory
which means we can be horrified by all that stands against it, but confident
that he has the ultimate victory and in that we can place our hope and trust.
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