Some thoughts on Mental Health Issues

Do you know anyone who suffers from a form of mental illness? Maybe anxiety, depression, or one of many serious conditions that impacts on their lifestyle. The answer is a guaranteed “yes”, whether they show it or not and whether you know it or not. About one in four people in this country is affected by some form of mental illness during a year, so we all know someone.

Because of the stigma attached to mental illness and the legacy of much casual language about it, many sufferers just cope in silence - they don’t and won’t talk about or show what is going on in their heads and in their lives. They function like anyone else, hold down often powerful, responsible jobs (e.g. Winston Churchill), they may often smile and say they are fine in public. But all this comes at a huge personal cost of fatigue, inner turmoil and sometimes difficulty with relationships. The daily struggle can result in serious collapse and sometimes, sadly, self-harm or suicide.

Let’s think for a moment, if somebody has an obvious physical disability, even if temporary, for example a broken leg, we all make allowances and sympathise. They may take longer to do something, they may need to rest more because of the effort involved in getting around, they may need help to carry out some tasks, they may have to miss out on some social activities. We don’t exacerbate the situation by taking away their crutches or by kicking the leg that is broken. They may seek help and follow a course of treatment. Some physical disabilities are only short-lived, some are life-long.

Mental illness is absolutely no different, except it is usually invisible. It is not a weakness or cry for help, any more that getting a bout of the ‘flu is. It doesn’t have an instant solution any more than does a broken leg.

Those who suffer have a real, day by day battle to function in a world that demands so much of them to smile and conform, to put on a brave face. They often live in fear that revealing their struggle will be interpreted as an inability to take responsibility, resulting in reduced prospects, and that it may damage personal relationships, because of prejudice or fear. If they do speak out, many well-meaning friends, not knowing how to respond, may suggest easy ways to “snap out of it”, emphasising the existing feelings of inadequacy.

People have campaigned for years for equality of access for the physically disabled and on gender issues. We are getting somewhere slowly. But there is a very long way to go for mental health equality. We do not seem to show the same understanding as for physical ailments when someone, through a mental health crisis, must have a day off from work, is late or fails to keep an appointment, has to leave a meeting or party early because they are fatigued, or behaves irrationally. Mental illness is as real as a physical problem.

If you suspect someone has mental health issues, be prepared to listen non-judgmentally. Be there for them, and, above all, do not give advice or pressure them to conform. They may need to be encouraged to seek good professional help to find their road to well-being. Their illness may be acute, and it may be chronic and life-long. The way may be rough and demanding. Walk with them, unconditionally, on that journey, reassuring them and supporting any self-help strategies they may have.

For further information see organisations such as Mind, Rethink and more on the internet. There is also a very good Metro article by our daughter, Frances, “Mental Health First Aid – what is it and how can I do it?” at www.metro.co.uk – just go to this link and type the title in the search box.

But Is It Art?

Introduction:

I am no great poet, but I have enjoyed writing a ditty or two over the years and have kept them in a file. To rekindle my blog I'm going to publish some of these verses just for fun.
Here's the first. It was started after visiting Tate Modern in London circa 2000 and modified in 2005. I offer it to you.

But Is It Art?

A pile of bricks upon the floor,

I heard someone ask, "But what's it for?"

When is a building merely a structure,

And art marries into architecture?

When does naked become a nude

Or flesh become erotic or rude?

No doubt art should provoke a reaction,

Celebration of creation or derivation?

Art may fall foul of stereotype,

Of pretentiousness and media hype;

I heard it said that it was frue

That all art must have a commercial value?

Sherman and Pollock hung on the wall,

McQueen and Gormley, I've seen them all,

I stood and I looked at the Bourgeois towers,

Can they compare with Van Gogh's flowers?

Who's to say that Tracey's bed

Will not be remembered when she's dead?

So, is modern art really that bad?

Or should we be asking, ' 'Who's been had?"

Then we had Starling's shed,

Some people say "It does my head

In", but I'm not sure -

Better that, than to bore.

Let's push the bounds beyond again

And avoid another cold refrain

Of all the strains that have gone before

The conflict cries out, "More, more, more!"

Just what is it to understand

The integrity of the artist's plan?

The excitement with contemporary art

Is that no one knows just where it starts …

...or finishes.

© Kevin J Wright - July 2000, revised 2005

Coming back soon

It’s almost three years since I posted a blog. Far too long. I have things in my head that need working out on paper. Watch this space...

How Old is Old?

“I don’t believe it”, conjures up the image of the grumpy old Victor Meldrew as portrayed on TV by Richard Wilson - amusing, but sadly stereotypical of the intolerant characteristics attributed to older people. Then there is Dot Cotton, a devoutly Christian lady of the East End, who drinks sherry (“I don’t drink. Just a small one then”) and clings to her anachronistic hymns, quoting from the Authorised Version of the Bible. Dot embodies all that is popularly seen as the intransigent conservatism of the elderly and the irrelevance of the traditional Church of England. 

"Old age is forever stereotyped", writes Penelope Lively, quoting Simone de Beauvoir, who pointed out decades ago that we regarded old age as "something alien, a foreign species". For an actor to be asked to act an older person still seems to involve the parody of shuffling along with a walking frame or assuming signs of dementia. The media seem to do their level best to reinforce the age-old myths about aging people.

But what does it mean to be elderly in the 21^st century? When do you become “old”? When I was younger, people who were 60 all seemed old to me, a legacy of the war partly, but now I’ve turned 60 too and I don’t feel old yet. I’m pretty fit and active physically and mentally. We are all very different and life-expectancy has increased, so the group labelled as “elderly” is now a very disparate group ranging from people in their 60s suffering illness or disabilities to extraordinary 90+ year olds who live a very active life.

Michelle Hanson wrote in The Guardian (06/10/13), “Some friends recently visited Paris, where they saw old people in restaurants with their families, drinking wine. Bliss! Here we offer tea dances and singalongs for a separate group of what seem to be rather simple-minded charity cases.”

How patronizing it is to expect us all to drop into the stereotype! I don’t wear beige and happily wear purple (see Jenny Joseph “When I am old”). The rock ‘n’ roll culture has now matured and some musicians are still rocking past seventy.

Older people are as varied in their abilities and desires as any other group, perhaps even more varied. We may easily make assumptions about what “they” might like based on our own or historic images that have been blown away in recent times with health care, longer life and more exciting opportunities. As Christians we must not perpetrate the myth that beyond a certain age everybody homogenises into a grey mass, but love and serve each person as they are and as God does.  

What is important is to get to know the older people already around us that we don’t know so well, those who have chosen not to “join in” or who seem stand-offish, those reaching the retirement age who move in, but don’t seem to want to “get involved”. Maybe they are not like us cultural, psychologically or socially. How have the needs of this group (if it is a group) changed as the years have gone by? Maybe some don’t want or need the coffee mornings, bingo and sing-along tea parties that churches and villages offer now. I for one don’t. What new things ought we to consider organising in our communities that are really relevant in the 21^st century for the active and spirited group formerly known as “the elderly”? Any ideas?

Remembrance Sunday Thoughts 2014 - Poppies and more

Remembrance Sunday Thoughts 2014

I imagine most of you have read about and perhaps seen pictures of the amazing installation of poppies round the Tower of London. Artist Tom Piper has created over eight hundred thousand ceramic poppies, representing British and Colonial troops who lost their lives in World War One. If you haven’t seen it, these are planted so that they seem to flow from a window in the Tower and round the moat; a glorious red sea that can be seen from aeroplanes flying into Heathrow. It’s impressive and a wonderful spectacle.

 However, like all good art, it has also challenged us and produced controversy and discussion. Jonathan Jones in The Guardian and Simon Jenkins, I think of The Mail, have criticised the work and, I think, they have raised some really pertinent questions we, if we claim to be Christians, may need to ask ourselves. I’m not going to answer them, just reflect on some of them and invite you to reflect too.

The poppies form an installation undoubtedly of great beauty, but Jonathan Jones suggested that, as such, it sanitises war and maybe the moat should have better been filled with barbed wire, mud and skulls, symbols of the hardship and death of the trenches, along the lines of poems by the Great War poets, like Wilfred Owen in “Dulce et Decorum Est” – he didn’t pull any punches and destroyed the lie that it is “a sweet and honorable thing to die for one’s country” (Read it here). I don’t think people would have flocked to the Tower if that had been so.

Buying and wearing a pretty poppy is such a relatively easy token, but we must not shy from the horror it represents as poppies sprouted from the soil of the battlefields; poppy seeds that had remained dormant for decades in the soil, now stinking mud, churned up by bombs and shells and tanks and weary worn boots. It was only as a result of the awfulness that we have the symbol of the beautiful poppy.

 War is not beautiful or glorious and, as we wear a pretty poppy (or indeed use our hard-won freedom to choose not to wear a poppy or to wear a white poppy), we need to be honest and recall that mud and the smell and the blood. Mr Jones questions and so should we, is the artwork a sentimental piece that just makes us feel good? Each one of those eight hundred thousand poppies represents a life brutally ended. People around the artwork have been chattering, singing and shouting. It should make us weep.

But that then poses a further question. Whom do we remember?

This artwork has one poppy for each of the British and Colonial troops who died. What about the rest of the allies, many dying far from their homes and families?

And what about this? In Ablain-Saint-Nazaire, near Arras in France, there is a new war memorial, which commemorates all those who died in Northern France in WW1 – and I mean all those who died. (Click here) There are 42 John Robertsons, but also 72 Karl Schmidts. The Germans are listed alongside the Allies all in straight alphabetical order.

If you have been watching The Passing Bells on TV, you will have seen parallel stories of lads growing up from opposing sides – their families, their lives and their loves – growing up to fight and die for their respective countries, experiencing national pride and courage, mixed with absolute terror right down to their bowels. Every German soldier and of course German civilians too, had a mother and father, and brothers and sisters, maybe a fiancée just like “our lads”, and they died doing what they were trained to believe in, just like “our lads”.

So the critics of Tom Piper’s art also wonder whether narrow nationalism has any part to play in our quest for true peace and freedom as we look to the future.  The earth’s resources know no national boundaries – God's rain falls across man made borders – and yet we seem to put great store in them. We need, in my view, to avoid pandering to those who promote political nationalistic superiority, if we believe in the future of humanity – I think they, you know who I mean, are taking advantage of a centenary groundswell of nationalism. We are all equal children of God. Perhaps this French war memorial is more appropriate these days and perhaps we should think about being more generous than remembering only our own dead. What do you think?

I wrestle with all this. I wrestle with the rightness of war every year and sometimes I weep. I recognise that war is regarded sometimes as being the only remaining option in the face of evil, but it is surely never right. It is simply the least bad option. Even Winston Churchill is reputed to have said, “To jaw-jaw is always better than to war-war”.

Although Jesus got angry at times, he said to Peter to put down his sword in the garden of Gethsemane, when the heavily armed soldiers came to arrest him. Jesus then went on to win the greatest ever victory over the greatest ever evil. If we claim to be Christians, what does this teach us about the road we must take? It may be counter-cultural. It may lead us to question openly some of the behaviours expected of us around this time of year. We may have to be the ones bold enough to be the ones who go the extra mile to achieve tolerance and peace; tolerance that is not just putting up with others, but complete acceptance of them and their differences; non-judgmental generosity to their needs, whatever their culture and religion. And Christ's peace is a peace that is not only an absence of war, but absolute confidence and trust in others. As with so many things, it starts with a commitment to prayer for ourselves and above all prayer for our political leaders for right decisions, for that peace can only be achieved with God's help. It is said that charity starts at home, so too do tolerance and peace.

Until we find that true peace, then every life lost in war has been in vain and the artwork of poppies is a hollow gesture, because nothing has changed, and wearing a poppy is pointless. We have a responsibility to those who have died in war not to forget. If we have taken part in an Act of Remembrance it is incomplete without a genuine Act of Commitment for a better future. 

Silence - some thoughts

I’m blessed to live in a really quiet part of the country. At night, on a calm night, you can have the windows open and hear nothing except stillness. It’s something to be treasured.

There are examples in The Bible of people seeking solitude and silence. The prophet Elijah in Kings Chapter 19 was recovering from a period in his life where he had been dashing around making prophecies; some of which were less than popular. He had taken part in a terrifying dramatic incident where fire rained down from heaven to repudiate the gods of Baal. He had been threatened and fled for his life. He takes refuge in a cave and seeks solace from God. In his contemplation he realises that God is not in dramatic happenings like fire from heaven or winds or earthquakes, these are physical events, but God, he discovers, speaks in a “still small voice” – as we sing in the famous hymn, “the still, small voice of calm” – through the silence; a sound of “sheer silence” it says the NRSV translation.  Other versions say a “gentle whisper”. I've also heard “the sound of slender silence”, though I’m not sure who said this. It may have been me in a moment of inspiration.

In the Gospels Jesus seems to spend a good deal of time ministering to bustling crowds. Even when he tries to get away we read that crowds of 5000 plus follow him. He still ministers to them and feeds them. But at times even Jesus has had enough. He needs time out and sends away his disciples, packing them off in a boat in Matthew 14. He needs to recharge and meet with God alone. “He went up a mountain to pray” it tells us. Like Moses, like Elijah and others he finds a quiet place on his own to pray in solitude and silence. And of course we also recall he spent 40 days on his own in the wilderness before his ministry started.

 It’s said that we humans speak an average of 16 000 words per day, some of us more than others; I did say average! I am aware that church liturgy is filled with words and it has become commonplace for us to have music or hymns in all the traditionally silent parts of our services. I recently went to a service advertised as a contemporary service of praise and contemplation “with periods of silence”. In fact there was no silence; even the periods for silent prayer were all filled with music, someone praying aloud or someone telling me what to think and pray about. This is one reason that I make a pause every now and then in services that I am leading and leave a space to sit a dwell with God, to “be” with God and listen. Life is filled with noise. “Noise pollution” is an accepted phrase on the eco agenda – it’s sadly often true in our worship.

We all say we want some peace and quiet, but then do we actually seek it out as Elijah and Jesus did? I think we should.

But being silent is hard for many people. There is the challenge firstly of putting everything else aside, of clearing your mind, when there is no distraction of music or the radio or TV to supress your thoughts. You know the feeling when every time you try to stop and be still other things pour in – the shopping, the jobs that need doing, concerns or plan that you have. Even the sheer effort of trying to fight these thoughts off can disturb the stillness you’re trying to achieve. There are strategies for dealing with them. One is to acknowledge them and then consciously set them down one by one as you move into silence. Affirm to yourself that you can deal with this or that later.

Another issue with corporate silence is the fear that one’s own body may disturb it. I have had embarrassing moments in silent vigils which are best not talked about! Even one’s own heartbeat or breathing can be a source of distraction.  They can be turned however into a way into relaxation – listening to and using the gentle rhythm of your breathing, consciously slowing it down. It takes time to be still.

Of course silence also requires sound if you like. In order to appreciate silence one has to stop the sound. We talk about free speech and conversation, both being seen as good. Silence therefore requires oppression, I guess, as you have to reject others’ talking by going away, like Jesus, or asking for quiet, and this is an alien thought to some people, even seen as unsociable, rude and selfish. It’s perverse; like many things noise impinges on those who want silence, but you can’t impose silence on people who seek security in noise; noise dominates; it always wins. It’s hard to champion silence in a world where sound is the norm. 20% of people are sensitive, 20% highly sensitive and like quieter things, but 60% haven’t a clue what they’re concerned about. The noisy majority, those addicted to sound, don’t understand how they impact on the quieter ones; the sensitive ones, in our community. Many of these won’t come to church or find it very hard, because too much goes on in many services. The Quakers have something to offer here.

I know also for some silence equates to loneliness. I appreciate that many people live alone. Conversation is company and even the radio is better than hours of nothing. But in this context I’m thinking of a particular chosen silence, deliberate silence, making space for God.

Other people really seem to fear silence and avoid it; talking is a kind of defence mechanism. I suspect the reason is, they fear if they stop, they might have to listen and then they might just hear something they don’t want to hear, maybe it will be God, a still small voice, speaking in their heart. Only if we face our situation honestly, without hiding behind words, can God meet us where we are.

I really would commend finding time for deliberate silence in the presence of God, if you don’t already do so. For some it is easier than others. Incidentally, you don’t have to do nothing; an activity may help you to avoid those distracting thoughts. Anthony Bloom from the Russian Orthodox Church and Radio Four contributor, advises us to “take your knitting and for fifteen minutes knit before the face of God, but I forbid you to say one word of prayer”. Others may find lighting a candle helps.

A great book to read if you are worried that silence is just too challenging is by Sarah Maitland, simply called “A Book of Silence”. It describes her craving for silence and the difficulties she had in coping with it, even when she took a cottage on The Isle of Skye. It’s very honest.

The noisy storm outside in our world reflects the turbulence in our lives and in our world, like the storm on the lake in the reading. The busy-ness of life batters us; feelings of desperation overwhelm us and our faith is challenged or simply side-lined by doing too much; it’s like Peter trying to walk on the water, trying to stay on top; life is a moving active fluid. We try to do too much on our own.

The solution is to hold out our hands like Peter did and focus on the calmness and stillness that Jesus offers; tranquility Jesus attained and nurtured by spending time alone and in silence with his Father.

I’d like to offer you two things.

One is a short poem that I wrote.

Hush the noise, still your breath,

Calm the clamour of your lives.

Close your eyes; open your ears,

Hear the sound of slender silence speaking to your heart.

Amid the blasts of life’s fierce storms,

Free your mind of all care;

Quieten your thoughts, open your mind and

Hear the sound of slender silence speaking to your heart.

And secondly a prayer from ROOTS magazine:

Make this a personal prayer.

Jesus, my Saviour,

when I am sinking under the weight of perceived obligations,

save me from my busy-ness;

when I am sinking beneath the waves

of other people’s expectations,

save me from anger;

when I am going under with worry about the future,

save me from despair.

When my inner faith slips through my fingers,

save me from the storm of life and take my hand.

Amen.

The Big "C"

I’ve heard it said a remarkable number of times even in the last few days that you don’t have to go to church to be Christian; that to be “spiritual” is not to be “religious” or aligned with a religion. People tell me they believe in God and explain that they have some notion of a higher power, but they don’t feel the need to worship. I’m told by them that they pray, especially when times get tough and maybe sometimes to thank God, but not often. There is a general belief in an afterlife (I always ask this in funeral meetings to know where I stand), though the pressing materialism of this temporal world gets in the way of thinking too much about it. While I know what is being said in all these cases, I cannot agree with it anymore. Faith is personal, yes, but faith in a gracious, unconditionally loving God requires a big response, not a mediocre take-it-or-leave it attitude. It demands a commitment. Now I’ve said it, the big “C”, commitment, so lacking in the disposable, easy-come easy-go world today.

The question is what is that commitment? Initially coming to faith or growing further in faith is an individual choice, but it is not a path one can walk alone. Rarely do people realise their faith without the guidance of another person or other people empowered by the Holy Spirit. Nurturing and fostering the sparks of faith is much easier if one enjoys regular fellowship, prayer and Bible reading with other believers – not necessarily more mature Christians, as we all know “out of the mouths of babes…” Isolated the tiny embers can so easily grow cold, unless they are drawn together and fanned into life. This is the big “C”, commitment to each other, a promise to love and support each other in faith.

Moreover, we all have our God-given skills, gifts and talents, but none of us is really an expert of all, nor can we or should we do all. We need each other like a body has many parts, which work to make up the whole organism. Christians together form the complete Body of Christ here on earth now. We are his eyes, hands and his feet, every cell of his body. Of course, this image is not original. St Paul wrote eloquently in 1 Corinthians 12 about it. Being part of a body requires us all to pull our weight; we need each other and God needs all of us.

For us today I feel we need especially to share in the Body of Christ in Communion for two good reasons. Firstly, as a Eucharist or Thanksgiving in response to all he gives us, not the least his gracious love shown in Jesus’ sacrifice remembered in the service, but also in sheer awe at this wonderful creation (ah, yes, I crave silence in worship). Secondly, because by receiving the consecrated bread we sacramentally become the Body of Christ full of his Holy Spirit, empowered to live and work to his glory, genuinely inspired. All this requires the big “C”, commitment to worship – regular, weekly worship focussing on Holy Communion with other Christians as part of the church, the Body of Christ. Corporate religion is the only way by definition; it is Christ incarnate in the world.

Accepting that mainstream religious organisations have not always got it right (and for that we must repent), without them our spiritual platitudes about belief in God and saying our occasional prayers are hollow. You cannot be a Christian and not go to church as often as you can.