Tag Archives: intercultural mission

Into Culture: Lingua Communis I

Last month I reflected on my previous exploration of No-Man’s Land as an image for intercultural ministry and mission. My tentative conclusion was that there was a need to acknowledge and identify both privilege and responsibility within the various spaces we traverse. As a Christian I am minded to suggest that I must acknowledge that I am, simultaneously, both welcomed in and called to welcome others in any space I inhabit. The balance is key.

In previous drafts of that published post I utilised a quote that I return to again and again. It is by Vincent Donovan in the preface of his book, ‘Christianity Rediscovered’. The quote is a succinct summary of the whole book which, in my mind, beautifully depicts a vision of intercultural mission.

…the unpredictable process of evangelization, [is] a process leading to that new place where none of us has ever been before. When the gospel reaches a people where they are, their response to that gospel is the church in a new place, and the song they will sing is that new, unsung song, that unwritten melody that haunts all of us. What we have to be involved in is not the revival of the church or the reform of the church. It has to be nothing less than what Paul and the Fathers of the Council of Jerusalem were involved in for their time – the refounding of the Catholic church for our age.
Vincent Donovan, Christianity Rediscovered (London: SCM Press, 2009) p.xix

A Slovakian family contacted the cathedral this month enquiring about baptism for their children. I was responsible that week for responding to these requests and rang the number. The conversation was confused and frustrating as his English was poor and my Hungarian is non-existent. We managed to make the necessary arrangements for them to come to a Sunday service, which is part of our preparation process, and they duly arrived and we met face to face. This conversation was easier with the additional non-verbal forms of communication and I arranged a visit to their home to chat about faith and to understand their reasons for seeking baptism for their children.

I arrived at their home and was warmly welcomed in. I had brought my standard baptism preparation material but quickly realised that this was not appropriate or useful and decided to improvise the conversation. Midway through our fumbling attempts at understanding with a significant language barrier, the mother (who spoke no English and was relying on her husband for a translation) left the room and moments later another couple came in. I was introduced to them and was told that they too wanted their children baptised. This couple also spoke little to no English. The four Slovaks (from the Roma culture) sat intently listening to me articulate my desire to welcome them and their children into our community and what it means to be part of the family of God. I attempted to describe, in simple English, what an intercultural Church should be like, one of mutual listening and learning and, ultimately, of mutuality. The person with the most English translated to the others and their eyes lit up and then I saw two of them weeping. I was told, “This is beautiful. This is what we want.” The others touched their hearts and nodded. I had done enough but I wanted to do more.

What would it mean to genuinely live this intercultural life out in practice with such a language barrier, not to mention the other, even more significant, cultural barriers? How would I encourage fuller engagement into a shared life and what did I imagine that would look like? The answer to that second question must start with both parties making an effort to learn, at least in order to cross the language barrier if not yet the cultural barrier.

“Do not try to call them back to where they were, and do not try to call them to where you are, as beautiful as that place might seem to you. You must have the courage to go with them to a place that neither you nor they have ever been before.”
A young person reflecting on the line of thought presented in Donovan, Christianity Rediscovered, p. xix

At the same time as I was processing these significant intercultural questions I was asked to organise two civic events at the cathedral: a prayer vigil for Sudan and a memorial service for those affected by knife crime. Both events had an additional request that they would be ‘interfaith’ and inclusive. I am still very new in my interfaith journey and am asking a lot of questions as to my understanding and practice. I have not yet seen, in my admittedly little experience, a good example of interfaith prayers; particularly within a particular faith tradition’s building. To pray together requires, in my mind, a shared language, not necessarily of the tongue but of the heart; otherwise our prayers would be in the same space, at the same time but would not be united and, in that way, deeply ‘together’. Hugh of St Victor, a 12th century theologian, suggests,

It is of no avail that the same walls encompass us if difference of will separate us.
Hugh of St. Victor, Dom. Aloysius Smith (tr.), Explanation of the Rule of St Augustine (London: Sands and Company, 1955) p.3

Is there a way of reaching this togetherness in an intercultural or even, more radically, in an interfaith context? Is this even to be desired? It is what I am beginning to desire.

The reality that I am becoming more conscious of is that language is cultural; sharing the same linguistic language does not mean you share the same cultural language. This has a profound impact on Bradford’s journey towards City of Culture in 2025. It cannot be a celebration of a singular culture for that does not exist, but nor can it be a celebration of a multiple of cultures for who can decide what is worthy of celebrating? The result therefore seems to be an attempt at just presenting difference side by side with no means of passing judgement, even of appreciation and good. I heard at an intercultural conference this week that we can all agree that we would want to celebrate, embrace and learn from the good from every culture. This is a nice sentiment but who decides what is ‘good’ in a culture? The judgement of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is surely culturally pre-determined. Multicultural spaces keep others at a distance and true sharing and peace is unattainable. Intercultural spaces encourages deeper interaction, with the risks that involves, but still it does not genuinely navigate a way of creating a ‘lingua communis’, a shared language. ‘Interculturalism’ is still predicated on the existence and maintenance of different and distinct cultures with competing and exclusive value systems. What is our aim when we engage in intercultural work? Is it to accept, as with multiculturism, the acceptance and promotion of difference as a desired aim? Or is it to pursue, even if it is an eternal striving, for the ever elusive and yet transcendent goal of unity; whatever that means?

In the Acts of the Apostles, the writer describes the Christian community as being ‘of one heart and mind/soul’ (Acts 4:32). The Holy Spirit had given to them the gift of being able to cross the language barrier, either by giving them a new, angelic tongue or by giving them the ability to speak in other, human tongues. Had the Holy Spirit now given to them the ability to cross the cultural barriers too? What does it mean that they were of one heart and mind/soul?

This question was central in my Masters dissertation exploring the Augustinian Orders that held this aim as their primary goal. A whole theological school developed in Paris during the 12th century called the Victorine School (based in the Abbey of St Victor). Hugh, who we heard from earlier, advanced a process of ‘reintegration’ of ourselves: a personal journey towards inner harmony of self which involved and impacted the outward harmony in a community of others. In my new role I have realised that this theological project of the 12th century could be a framework for 21st century intercultural dialogue. It begins with a change of will, an opening of the imagination and the articulation of possibility.

My hope, therefore, for the legacy of Bradford’s City of Culture is that we begin this long journey towards a new, genuinely shared culture; a place where none of us have been before. This will require some key principles and deciding on what those very principles requires radical dialogue and a sharing of will. Like my clumsy attempts at communicating with my new Slovak friends this will require a shared linguistic framework to start with but that must lead to the joint construction of brand new cultural edifice that we could share in ownership and, therefore, responsibility for. In this way I am encouraged to dust off my MA dissertation on the Augustinian approach to communal unity and try to implement it in the reality of my new complex context of Bradford.

Into Culture: No-Man’s Land

Back in 2012 I came across a gathering of people known as ‘Burning Fences’. It was a community (of sorts) that had come together through open mic nights in York and all of the participants/‘members’ were curious about faith, philosophy and art. A year after encountering this collective, and very much identifying myself as part of it, I wrote a reflection on my experience in a post called ‘Fleeing to No-Man’s Land’. In this reflection I spoke idealistically about the desire to be ‘organic’ and to refute the need for definition and boundary. This was 2014 and we were still in the first wave of the re-emergent deconstructionist movement that has now morphed into post-liberalism with all its uncertainty, linguistic quagmires and frustrations.

A mere four months later I wrote again about this community in a post called ‘Struggling with No-Man’s Land’. The title was deliberate and the post speaks of the experience of struggle with living into the initial dream and ideal which we longed to exist. I had, over four months, inevitably fallen or arrived at the trap or reality (depending on where you stood) that comes from these types of dreams. I encourage you to read this second post particularly as it gives a foundation to what I feel called to reflect on this month: that is, ‘contested space’.

I do not have space to regurgitate John Milbank’s and Rowan Williams’ profound explorations of the ‘public sphere’ wholesale and, again, I can only encourage you, dear reader, to read for yourself ‘Theology and Social Theory’ and ‘Faith in the Public Square’ as two better articulations of what I am re-examining in my role here in Bradford. These two books and the authors’ wider work have been much on my mind as I have faced some curious forces as I move around in public life.

Back in October when I was interviewed for my new role I was asked to preach a short homily on the day’s gospel reading: Luke 14:12-14. This short teaching of Jesus on the subject of acceptable behaviour in social settings is set within a scene of pure hospitality. The teaching seems pretty clear, “When this happens; do this. When the other thing happens; do this other thing.” Rules of etiquette clearly put down to abide by and do good. As I was interviewing to be the Canon for Intercultural Mission this seemed particularly pertinent as the role would require me to navigate complex cultural spaces. Bradford Cathedral also celebrates its value of hospitality and is proud of its welcome of people of all faiths and none in a multi-cultural city. A passage about hospitality in a place of hospitality for a role focussed on hospitality; what a gift!

I ended up reflecting on the overuse of ‘welcome’ and ‘hospitality’ in community identity. What do we mean by ‘welcome’? How do we express or judge ‘hospitality’? In the passage the ‘hosts’ are crticised by Jesus and then the ‘guests’. It seems that the culturally agreed system of manners and customs were wrong to Jesus. Most churches would want to be welcoming to all and yet many of them, despite their expressed aims, are judged to be unwelcoming, particularly to certain groups. People express an experience of feeling unwanted, ignored or, even worse, demonised. How does our desire to welcome go so badly wrong? How do we defend ourselves from being ‘unwelcoming’? Is it possible that those offering hospitality have a conflicting understanding of welcome to those who are looking to receive it from them? And who decides, anyway, what is culturally acceptable behaviour and polite?

The reality is that we work on the assumption that we all agree on what makes for good hospitality and welcome. My friend, Russ, came over to my house early on in our friendship. I welcomed him in and said, “Make yourself at home.” He and his wife sat on our sofa and we chatted. About half an hour passed by and Russ suddenly said, “Did I just hear the kettle go?” A more passive aggressive question I have not heard! His point though was made: I had not offered him a cup of tea nor had I made it for him. In my mind I had not been rude for I had stated, as he came into my home, that it was his home. If it was his home he would make himself a cup of tea if he wanted one. We had different expectations of what a welcome is. The same is true in community life and, indeed, in public life.

This is where my reflections on Burning Fences comes into focus. With any social encounter there are underlying power dynamics at work and different cultures negotiate that exchange in different ways. I am reminded of the HSBC advert some years ago where they promoted their banking services on the premise that they understood the cultural nuances and distinctives across the globe. This negotiation is the work of intercultural mission. We must be clear as to what we mean by hospitality, how to express it and what to do when that conflicts with a different cultural paradigm. This, however, has become so complex it might be now rendered impossible without causing offence. No man’s land can only ever be temporary before one side advances and colonises it. It is, as anarchist Hakim Bey once called it, a Temporary Autonomous Zone.

At the cathedral we welcome many different groups into our space and we often articulate it as the oldest shared spaces still being used in the city with a long 1400 year history of gathering people from different perspectives to share in the full gamut of life; sacred and mundane. This all sounds good in theory but in practice it is much more complicated. It sounds like we have ambition to create something of a no-man’s land but, of course, we’re not; not really. It will always be a sacred space owned by the Church. We, canons of the cathedral, as stewards and custodians of this historic building, have responsibilities for its upkeep so we can faithfully pass it on to the next generation of Bradford. We want, in some way, for the cathedral to feel like it is ‘your cathedral’, ‘their cathedral’ but, maybe more clearly, ‘our cathedral’. How do we achieve these powerful, beneficial elements of no-man’s land or Temporary Autonomous Zones whilst accepting that the space is possessed by one particular group, us? With that in mind, what does genuine hospitality look like, for example, when we accept the invitation to give room for communities of different faiths and none to break fast together at the the first Iftar of Ramadan? How far do we go to ensure those who do not share in our faith might feel welcome in the cathedral space? Do we allow the conflicting cultural expressions and rules take precedence in a space designated as inheritance of a wholly/holy other culture? When we hire out our space to corporate events and conferences I am struggling to balance the rules of who is host and who is guest and what rules are in play during that time. How does this space keep its integrity and not just become a hollow venue for any to make their own and go against the architectural purpose, before we even begin to talk about the spiritual purpose? What rules of hospitality do we require for guests to follow and what are they expecting from us as host?

On the hand I continue to navigate the public, secular square as a Christian working alongside people of other faiths and none. I am struck daily by the unspoken rules of social etiquette and how inconsistent those rules are applied. Again, my neuro-diversity does not help me in this but I am acutely aware on how un-neutral the secular space is. For all our culture’s explicit desires to be welcoming to all and equal and diverse, it is feeling less and less true. Secularists want us all to believe that they oversee a neutral sharing of all voices of society but that facade no longer stands the test of truth. The public square is always contested. What is happening now is that the rules of the contest are changing and we have no means of agreeing on those rules. Democracy is revealing its darker side in our days and there is no escaping an ever advancing cultural narrative of intolerance. There is some truth in the call that we are seeing a new form of puritanism in the public sphere with media and cultural organisations claiming diversity and inclusion but at the expense of selected groups and voices. The perceived no-man’s land of the public square where we all can speak and participate is being colonised; it’s just no one has won and we have no agreed way of knowing when it can be over.

If Burning Fences dreamt of creating a clearing where no one group held power then I am now at the realisation that that was always doomed to fail because power is always present. Power is what drives change and creates action. It is better to build a clearing where the power is clearly named and acknowledged and then rightly shared and is mutually beneficial for all. The power should be dynamic and not rest too long on one individual or group. Above all in that clearing, whether it is Bradford Cathedral or the public square, the rules of hospitality must be clearly stated; if there is no such thing as uncontested space, then we should at least know how we are to contest without us all killing each other or living in the polarised state as we do now.

Back to Luke 14.

Throughout the gospel accounts Jesus seems to pass through contested space with ease. He is both at home and not. He is both host and guest. Consider the story of the wedding at Cana; clearly a guest and yet he works behind the scenes to make the party happen. Jesus never claims ownership of space and yet he influences everywhere he goes. In the public square I will continue to try and be salt (distinct and set apart offering an alternative vision of society and the world) and light (illuminating, prophetically, where darkness conceals truth and confuses with lies or mistruths). In Bradford Cathedral I want to welcome people genuinely into ‘our space’, meaning, whoever I am speaking to, that we share ownership of it but, if we are going to share the space, we must share the rules of the space. There will be negotiations and, as such, mistakes to learn from, but I don’t want to become a mere gatekeeper who has to decide who is welcome and what behaviours are acceptable or not. For I am not the host. I am a fellow guest invited and welcomed by the one true host: Jesus. Now the question is: What are his rules of hospitality? It seems to me not our business to know in advance we are merely told to go and invite all into the banquet of the kingdom. He will discern if people enter in without respect and send them away.

I’ll leave you with this quote from D.T. Niles,

Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where he found bread.
D.T. Niles,The New York Times, May 11, 1986, Section 6, p.38

Into Culture: Women at the Well

One month ago I was installed as Canon for Intercultural Mission and the Arts in Bradford Cathedral. As part of the service I was asked to choose bible readings. I chose to perform one of the passages of Scripture in a way that I used to do more regularly during my training at Cranmer Hall (it was called, ‘doing a Ned’, and I was wheeled out when dignitaries came to the college as a party trick!) The reading was from John’s gospel, chapter 4, and tells the story of Jesus’ encounter with a woman at a well. I chose this story as it presents, in my mind, an excellent piece of intercultural mission from Jesus. The woman is a Samaritan, whilst Jesus is a Jew. The woman is a lone female and Jesus is a lone male. Jesus is in a foreign land here; Sychar, where the story takes place, is in Samaria. All of this means that there are multiple and conflicting statuses at play and within this complexity of who has power and who does not Jesus speaks boldly, gently and disarmingly.

In my dramatisation of the story I chose to portray the woman as having some forceful agency; a woman who has experienced much pain and trauma who is understandably defensive and strong-willed. We discover in the interaction that she has been married five times and is currently living with a man who is not her husband. I think of the many women who live in fear of physical attack, particularly when in public and the presence of a strange man. I think of women who have lived experience of being overlooked or looked over by oppressive/aggressive men. I didn’t want this female character to be read as meek and subservient; she has thoughts and she speaks her mind to Jesus. Jesus, in return, accepts all that she presents with compassion and understanding, and yet, he meets her opinions and defence with an equal but different force of love or, as Oscar Romero calls it, ‘the violence of love.’

This biblical narrative, as I say, speaks to me of intercultural mission and this is why it has been, in my first month, a framework in which I have tried to live and work.

In my first week Bradford Cathedral was privileged to co-host (with our neighbours, Kala Sangam) the Outdoor Arts UK Conference. This national gathering of outdoor artists and producers was well attended with some wonderful performers and companies coming to the future City of Culture to dream and collaborate. Part of my role as residentiary canon at the cathedral is to welcome all guests and so I was invited to do that at the conference and to give some housekeeping notices. As part of my welcome I spoke of the cathedral’s historic commitment to gathering people from all faiths and none (whatever ‘no faith’ means; that’s for another article!) to share in conversation about the immediate, real things of life as well as the sacred and transcendental things that we all experience. I quoted Peter Brook, saying that we were a stage ‘where the invisible can appear’, and then I finished by offering our side chapels as places of reflection and quiet and myself as someone who could sit with them in the silence or listen to their stories. This welcome was commented on by so many individuals who were touched by my genuine offer of support and care. It was, as one of the delegates said to me, the fact that I spoke knowingly of the stresses, pressures and particular loneliness of the artist’s life. It was the fact that I gave permission for the reality of their lives to be named and held with compassion just like the woman encountering the prophetic power of Jesus at the well.

From that conference I connected with so many exciting artists and was encouraged by the hope that emanated from the conversations. I heard subtle stirrings of people who would not describe themselves as religious (whatever they mean by that phrase; again, maybe for another time!) talk about the ineffable, transcendent quality of art that is so significant to their work and yet rarely is given space just to be; without words. It is the mystery at the heart of each one of us which, in our Western, scientific, materialistic culture is held with some suspicion or rushed to be defined or identified. It is the holiness that is fearfully known and often packaged too quickly as ‘self’. It is this rush and urgency when touching on the ineffable and often bewildering mystery at the very core of each of us that causes much of the confusion and painful divisions we see played out in our Western culture. The paradox at the heart of our self-identification is that we all believe we know ourselves and, at the same time, we know that we are conflicted contrasts evolving and growing. Hearing the stories of many artists and people across the city of Bradford, I have met, again and again, women at the well who want to be secure in themselves and yet discovering that they do not know enough and then experience profound vulnerability. Jesus met her in that moment of vulnerability and held a safe space for her to be seen and known.

The conflict experienced by each one of us as individuals has been played out in pieces of work that I have seen this month. I think of ‘Ode to Partition’ by Tribe Arts and ‘A Tale of 2 Estates’ by Jae Depz, both expressions of different forms of anger, frustration and pain. Ode to Partition tackles the complex issues of race, faith, sectarianism, empire and colonialism. This spoken word piece written by a group of children of the partition powerfully articulates the experience of living in the UK and having South Asian heritage, in particular, migration caused by the partition. I noted that I was a minority in the audience, the show being aimed more overtly to those with lived experience of partition. I felt the responsibility, guilt and shame. I heard and experienced, powerfully, the rightful accusation put upon the British Empire and my historic ancestors and their leading role in this historic division. What I took away from the evening was a particular truth that art/poetry should provoke conversation. I left, however, with a sense of lack. I think it was a lack of enough expressed desire for healing. The piece was in development and I hope that the future ‘Tribe Talks’ event will work towards more of this need for healing for it is healing that I think so many want/need and yet we daren’t engage with that need for fear of being disappointed and hurt further.

A Tale of 2 Estates was similar. This piece was a research and development piece produced over a two week period. There is so much potential in the work and I do hope they find the means and funding to develop it further. Again, however, I left feeling a lack. It was the same lack as I had experienced two weeks before. The piece (due to lack of time) didn’t engage in depth in what narratives we have for healing and reconciliation. This is what I have realised about the popular Western culture: we have lost narratives of redemption, forgiveness, healing and wholeness. We are all feeling the exhaustion of pain and struggle. We all feel the overwhelming chaos of uncertainty within and without of ourselves. We all are struggling to find peace. We just want to get the water and go home but where might we encounter the stranger at the well who sees us and names everything that has ever happened to us? How might we allow him to interrupt the story of our current culture of urgent, immediate judgement with gentleness and grace?

If City of Culture is going to have any kind of legacy in Bradford, I am praying for a legacy of genuine love. That is not the love that is broad and undefined. That is not love that is about total acceptance and affirmation of my current understanding of my own self identity. This is the love that gives me room to be and to change; to heal and become; to rest in the knowledge that I am not perfect and there is more that I can be if I allow someone to stop my inner monologue and whisper to me a different story. A society that gives that kind of space… that’s my prayer for Bradford.