Ukraine

The situation that is developing in the Ukraine is of course profoundly disturbing. What I am finding most disturbing however is the attitude not of Russia but of the Western powers and the European Union. The Ukraine is not a nation state like say for example France, with a very long history of struggle to establish itself, a complicated education system enforcing linguistic unity etc. It is a comparatively recent political construction and the existence of the Ukraine following the collapse of the Soviet Union does not have some sort of long term validity which needs to be protected by war.

There are so many telling events at the moment. For example refugees leaving the war zones in eastern Ukraine, well not officially yet war zones, are heading eastwards largely into Russia. Clearly that is where they feel safer. The Ukrainian government, perceived by the Western media as the “good guy” in this current situation, has insisted on resorting to military conflict in order to re-establish its control of the eastern cities which have so-called Russian separatists operating within them. At no point does any voice in the mainstream Western media raise the question of whether or not the Ukraine should be doing this? Why not allow ethnically Russian groups of people stapled on to the Ukrainian state, to secede? Why not?

Yes of course, it would be so much better, wouldn’t it, if Russia were to encourage them to do this through what we might call legal, in other words non-militaristic means. However what chance of success would that actually have? And there is something called a fait accompli, the eastern regions are in open revolt against the central Kiev government, they are being assisted by Russian soldiers, perhaps “on holiday” as Putin and others have said, perhaps encouraged by the elements of the Russian military who are involved in that region. However these groups are in open armed revolt and already thousands of people are dying and hundreds of thousands being made into refugees. Why not open the debate from the West’s perspective of allowing these areas to join either Russia or to become independent states next to Russia. Nobody raises this issue. It has become so quickly accepted that “war” might take place.

Even a mainstream newspaper like the Guardian, is finding itself carrying stories talking almost in passing about the increasing possibility of a European war. At what point did this become possible. American senators are trying to vote to increase arms aid to the Ukraine. When the Ukraine raises the issue of wanting to join NATO, instead of the West reacting by saying “you’ve got to be joking, you can’t join NATO when you’re about to launch into some sort of war with Russia”, the West and the Western media, the politicians, respond as if somehow this was a sensible reaction. Why would we want to ally ourselves immediately with a country about to instigate some sort of war with Russia?

I can see that from the perspective of the Ukrainian state what is happening in the eastern part of the country is clearly a sort of assisted invasion, not dissimilar I supposed to the sorts of political events that took place in countries in South America with the aid of American money. However the West did not think it a good idea to start a global conflict or at the very least a European conflict to protect the rights of Guatemala or Colombia. Yet it is now becoming possible that this is some way feasible in order to maintain the integrity of a state which has no particular reason to remain a state in that particular formation.

Indeed America and the Western European powers have worked together to dismantle states in the Middle East and North Africa with absolutely disastrous outcomes. But this doesn’t mean that all of a sudden it’s a good idea to fight to maintain a state on our own borders when it may be the maintenance of the state in this particular instance which brings about disaster. Imagine a situation in which the eastern part of the Ukraine was allowed to secede from the main body of the Ukrainian state. It is not difficult to imagine that this would cause suffering and possibly require the relocation of hundreds of thousands of ethnic Ukrainians frightened to live within the Russian direct sphere of influence. The Ukrainian people may not feel protected by the Russians and would it be so awful to consider accepting their relocation? Many many people were relocated following the Second World War. How many people are being forced to become refugees in Syria that moment? How many people are relocating from Africa at the moment? It is not as if this is somehow something that cannot be countenanced. Our attitude is often that it is just “natural”. Surely it is better to strategically encourage such an event rather than to risk launching into some sort of conflict with a far more dangerous and unstable outcome.

Yet the Western powers, the newspapers, all voices in the mainstream media, continue to speak as if Russia was the evil enemy. At no point do they countenance the possibility that from the Russian perspective things might actually look different? They might actually look slightly different from the other side. The only possibility that is being considered is that the Russians are straightforwardly lying about things. What is absolutely evident from the current circumstance is that we too are completely lying about what is going on.

I am not generally given to nor particularly tolerant of conspiracy theories. And I don’t think that in this particular instance I feel the term conspiracy accurately reflects what is happening. However the ease with which the Western world is considering confronting this particular set of events in the Ukraine with a possible NATO response, leaves me with no other way to understand this other than seeing the events as part of some strategy of which I am completely unaware. It seems to be a strategy whereby this war serves some purpose to somebody and as is often said, follow the money, where is the benefit and to whom.

My first thought was that it must be related to energy consumption. By considers that the West may have some long-term strategic interest in making it more difficult to access Russian supplies of gas. If it became politically possible to close down those supply routes it would make political consensus in favour of fracking in Western Europe far easier to push through the political system. It will not be an easy route to bring around large-scale extraction of gas reserves through fracking when it is possible to source cheaper gas from Russia. If that supply line were to be closed down due to setting up a new form of Cold War then it would be hard to resist.

A friend of mine suggested that fracking had an involvement in this in the sense that eastern Ukraine itself was a site of natural resources of value to the West. He told me that mining companies already had bought the rights to fracking in the eastern Ukraine and even suggested that one of the directors of one of these companies was the son of Joe Biden.

Who benefits? It leaves you nothing other than paranoid in a sense. I imagine Western Europe as some sort of sore thumb in the world order. This old small peninsula packed full of self righteous nations with long histories who have sown so much disorder into the wider world. Maybe the superpowers of Russia, the United States and China might find things easier if Western Europe was simply crushed. Maybe some sort of long-term plan to reduce the political independence of Western European countries through encouraging Russia to become more aggressive and silence the annoying voices of these multiple children. Babbling voices.

I know very little but I have a profound sense of knowing practically nothing. I talked about this with my friend Ben Graves. We discussed what sort of mechanisms might actually lead to events like this. How old do conversations in corridors of power or discussions in restaurants lead to the silence from the mainstream media. It is almost as if some sort of fatwa has been pronounced and everybody is going along with it. Nobody wants to break ranks and say “hold on, this is ridiculous, you can’t do that”. What might bring about such a fatwa? Is this something related to the automatically regulated citizen? That’s nobody even thinks to say these things? Is it that the liberal left still hope that the world really is not in the control of huge corporations? That people really believe in the potential of democracy to produce anything other than ruling and self reproducing elites? It is a profoundly depressing set of events taking place. Rather like suddenly realising that there is abuse taking place in your neighbour’s house. Despite appearing charming when you talk to them at the front door.

palimpsest being

So – a few days here and there feeling depressed at not having achieved anything of note – nothing special there – and there’s the rub. Nothing special. I’ve always found it difficult accepting being like everyone else. So, in this instance, I rationalise myself, my view of myself as someone who’s not bad, as a palimpsest. I’ve a set of things I do and have done and each one is nothing of great note but I’m at least an interesting complex of over-writings.

shh…

The terrible war in Gaza is taking place as I write with yet another cease fire ending with ceaseless fire. My question to myself is what is it not to take a position against Israel despite the clear case for one. Although the case is clear and there is a strong popular voice to support Palestinians politically the Israel remains inviolate. Still I feel uncomfortable with the voices that call for the demonisation of Israel. I’m not even Jewish but I feel that in taking this position of not condemning I am opening myself to agression. I remain uncomfortable with the ease with which Jewishness and Israel are confounded and fearful of the repercusssions. It is rather similar to the position my mother took before her death vis a vis the war in Iraq which she couldn’t bring herself to repudiate. Confusion and discomfort with the popularism of the call to abandon Israel. I keep this to myself by and large.

the beginning of the end

I found a mechanic to repair the brakes on a couple of the bikes we have with us on this extended visit to France. The man running the shop in Marignane was born in Brittany, near Rennes. He’d been living in Paris until 1969 when he moved down south following his father’s work. “You’re a 68er” I teased…

Don’t be fooled by what they say about ’68. I was there at the time. I remember being on the boulevards when according to the newsreels it was all riots and revolution. Well – I could see the CRS on the other side of the road and the cameras, well they filmed it from a certain angle to make it look like a huge crowd, but really, it wasn’t like they said. Well, things did change after that. It was the beginning of the great mess. The beginning of the end.

“Well” I replied, “there had been a bit of a mess a few years before… the war and all that”.

Junior Ethnography

Kaius has accompanied me a few times for an early morning visit to a bar/café where I’ve had coffee and he hot chocolate. This morning we were sitting at a table inside a bar in Ensues La Redonne and Kai pointed this out to me:

Dad, every time we’ve gone into a bar there have been men inside and also a man has come in and kissed a woman who is behind the bar.

the free mediterranean

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So we are staying in a villa in the commune of Ensues La Redonne which lies 10 miles to the south-west of Marseille on a stretch of coast known as the Blue Coast. The Coast forms part of an area known as Les Calenques, the more famous area carrying that name lies south and south-east of Marseille. It is an area of coast where the cliffs abut directly onto the water, access is very difficult to the sea and it is in the Calenques, small sheltered coves, that villages have grown up around small fishing ports. The area is reminiscent of the Cinque Terre in Liguria several hundred kilometres further to the east beyond Genova. Road access to the villages by the sea involve steep descents and a railway line runs the length of the coast through tunnels and over viaducts.

We have rented a villa through one of these on line not quite standard rental agencies, where individual householders advertise their personal properties for rent. There is quite a Hoo Haa in France at the moment with this system as this can become effectively a way of avoiding paying the complicated set of taxes to which officially declared tourist operations are subject. So we are renting our house from a family who appear to have vacated it for the period. There are a variety of issues that we are facing in this respect, particularly concerning insurance and the oddity of paying a lot of money for somewhere that doesn’t actually provide certain basics. Anyhow, these are not the subject of this note, generally the place is lovely with a really nice swimming pool and a series of ground floor living areas and a kitchen which are cool. Always needing some sort of hobby with which to distract myself I am engaged in an intense cooking exercise, perhaps more on that later.

So I knew nothing at all about this area before coming here. Of course I have heard of Marseille and slept once outside Marseille Central Station, St Charles I believe it is called. This must have been in 1980 perhaps even 1979. I would have been travelling the south coast busking in the resort towns. What I remember about that night at the station was that I slept in a sleeping bag and tied, as was my wont at the time, my guitar to my feet or arms. However what happened that particular night which never happened before or since is that when I woke up in the morning to put on my shoes, they were probably Clark’s desert boots, all the rage in Italy at the time, I found a scorpion in one of them. So apart from scorpions I know Marseille to be a lively, fast, energetic, busy, ethnically mixed, left-wing, Mediterranean melting pot. The coast however, in contrast to the extensive areas of poverty with which I associate areas of Marseille at least, I associated entirely with wealth. Cannes, Nice, Menton, the Cote d’Azur.

However this area of coast has completely confounded my expectations. The commune in which we are located is a Communist commune. Prior to that socialist. There are no obvious elements of touristic infrastructure. There are no other foreign visitors here on holiday or so few that I have yet to encounter them when going to the shops. All the cars are locally registered that I have noticed. Inside the bars and in the shops I feel that I am in a working-class area and more distanced from the sort of impact I associate with tourism and Anglophone “leisure migration” than I can remember for many years.

In a very telling episode the 5 children, Saskia and Wendy walked down from our villa to the small port at the bottom of the hill, a steep walk past the station. They were looking for somewhere to take the children swimming in the sea. They found two small gravelly beaches. When they came back there was a distasteful discourse in respect to that seaside settlement. It was described as scruffy, the people as slightly rough. A nasty block of flats was near the beach area and it was not that clean.

I think the element of proper snobbish commentary is clear. I, perhaps in my reverse snobbism, found those very elements refreshing. It is such a relief to be in an area of the Mediterranean with beautiful clear waters in a wonderful bright blue landscape which has not been colonised by the bourgeoisie. Where in fact people usually consigned to estates at the back of coastal towns, live with views over the open sea. In some ways it has reminded me of the sorts of places you get in the North East of England, areas like North and South Shields, where working cities occupy the coastal strips. Somehow I didn’t expect to find this any longer in the French Mediterranean.

Why it is like this, I hesitate to guess, but it may have something to do with the heavily industrial nature of this area. To the east lies Marseille and beyond that the city of Toulon, a major military port amongst other things. To the west lies the Camargue, which while it is a huge expanse of Marshland, also houses vast areas of salts pans which produces a very complicated industrial landscape. There is also a power station some 20 km up the coast and various industrial offshoots that sits near the canal of the Rhône which reaches the sea in the Camargue. To the north lies a very extensive inland lagoon surrounded by manufacturing, light industry, storage depots and the airport. So whilst this area, the blue Coast, is pretty and the water pristine, it sits in a sense as a backwater to the industrial hinterland.

So, quite the discovery. However potentially not the most comfortable place to be without a strong command of French. I don’t know if this is the case yet, but certainly the interactions I have had in local shops and bars have not been straightforward. People are surprised to find what is evidently some sort of tourist present.

local object biographies and the Queen’s Scout

duggan_vases

Patrick Duggan died several weeks ago now. For a variety of reasons I have taken on the task of boxing up items in the house which are not wanted by either of his cousins know by the Scout Association. I have found this tiring and taxing emotionally. Patrick is not my family and I know very little but the reference points of his life are, obviously, recognisable to me as we are both British. He died at the age of 76 always having lived with his mother and being an only child. He had lived in the house here on Holtwood since 1952 and before that down at the bottom of the hill on Atlas Street, in an area of housing above the steelworks now completely demolished. This family, Irish at least on his father’s side, had lived in the area since the 1890s at least. The house was full of bits and pieces that dated from this period onwards. They had been what my mother called respectable working-class. Even back in the pre-First World War days they had a small haulage business, which meant they must have owned a flatbed trailer and a horse. Patrick had a very good memory and I know that he knew many of the stories that link together the vast number of photographs and odd bits of paper and records and ornaments which lie around the house. Without his knowledge, and there is nobody really to put it all together, the items begin to lose any coherence at all. This has happened to so many people’s objects as is evidenced by the clutter found all over junk shops and of course in antique shops as well. So it is annoying in some way to have to pack all these things up and make decisions that pull things out of context and put them into a new set of relations, those that live set up, things that I bolted together.

Saskia had said to me maybe you could keep some for Abbeyfield House? She had been particularly moved by the collection of old toys which had been kept. She wanted some sort of memory box connected to Patrick. I don’t like the idea particularly of commemorating him like this. Fran, from down the road, she too had suggested to me that maybe something for Abbeyfield house might be a good idea? If not World War I then other periods could be represented. Wendy to who was over yesterday evening for a drink suggested that a box of objects like the briefcase of bits and pieces I was showing her might be interesting for children to look at. From these exchanges and from my dusty hands has emerged the idea of bringing the items to Abbeyfield house and putting together a series of memory boxes. Collections of oddities and items from Patrick’s house which could be used as the basis of activities with children and adults. This would give a fantastic context to this collection of items which emerge in this area over the last hundred years. Suddenly the locality of the things in Patrick’s house would once again have a sense and would not be lost. So now I have to contact Alan and Mary and Norma and get their permission to donate objects to the house.

So the decorative bits and pieces, like the ornamental vases in the photograph, might suddenly find the context once again that keeps them closer to their own very local biography.

they are their country

18 July 2014

Queens Road neighbourhood centre Halifax

Carl and I drove up to Halifax. I set my phone to satnav and followed the instructions and as we drove up Hopwood Lane we began to see Roma Halifax people walking down the road’s and side streets. Halifax is an impressive town when approached from the right direction. The route we took brought us into the new part of the centre of town to begin with but as we skirted the Victorian town and moved up Hopwood Lane it was clear that the area had been wealthy at some point. There were walls suggesting decorative gardens had lain behind him at one point and the road was wide. Further up more and more terraces began to appear with narrow cobbled lanes between them. The buildings were of an apparent high quality, made of a cut stone rather than the brick we see here in Sheffield. As well as Roma people there were lots are being called South Asians as well. The area didn’t give off a sense of prosperity at this point but my first impression was not one of great poverty. I think it is the apparent quality of the housing which gives that impression. Overall Halifax does not have the impression of a failing city. I say this in the context of the journeys I made into a number of the northern Lancashire mill towns where the dilapidation of the city centres was so evident. Halifax sits in very beautiful steep sided valleys and the hillsides, presumably once entirely to needed of trees, are now richly clad in small forests which make the views from the town quite exceptional in places. The main Victorian town centre sits on an easterly facing slope which must make it cold in winter. In the bottom of the valley runs the railway line and on the hillside above it a dark green coniferous woodland.

We were heading for the Queen’s Road neighbourhood centre. This too is an extremely impressive building. I met the caretaker bust I was there and the building had been erected in the 1860s as a school, not a church school but a school provided by the civic authorities. It differed from the sorts of schools I have seen in Sheffield in that it looked more like some sort of all-night greenhouse. It had very high windows along the whole frontage which stretched a good 60 m. There were two wings to the building which stood proud of the main facade which was entered through a very tall and light main door. Once inside the impression of space and light was not diminished and it was ugly inexplicable to me as I entered what this building must have been like. Very cold is one thing for sure. The caretaker said that originally it had been heated entirely by coal although a boiler system had been put in place around 1900. He said that the building had been put up by the town council on a site which at the time had an income but use across the and onto the hills beyond, facing eastwards towards the rising sun. He said that the front courtyard which must have been almost half an acre had originally been paved entirely with Yorkshire stone. Into this Yorkshire stone had been cast a map of, I think it was Britain, rather than just England, with all of the detail showing the various ports and major cities, natural features carved into the stone as well. He said that the council had taken these paving slabs up and reused them in the town centre turning them upside down. What a waste he said, can you imagine what sorts of heritage was destroyed at this point?

The building is clearly used now by a large variety of community groups and the houses a Council service which is taking the brunt of organisational issues in this area which are resulting from a great increase in the Slovakian Roma population over the past three or four years. We were told to go down a corridor to the left and in the corridor were sitting probably 10 men and women. Two or three of these appeared to be of Pakistani origin, one of them an older man in very traditional costume with a short beard. The majority of the people were Roma. Quite how Roma people are recognised is almost impossible for me to write about. It has to do with people’s clothes and it has to do with the way that their clothes fit their bodies. This feels uncomfortable to write down even in an effectively private sector fieldnotes. But at the same time Pakistani people are recognised, to an extent, by their clothes and the way their clothes fit their bodies. With Roma people the clothes they are wearing show their bodies. Although this is not any sort of rule. Roma people like everybody else vary from very very thin people to very large people. The clothes worn by the Slovakian Roma are distinctive space-space they tend to wear a variety of sportswear, it is not uncommon for men to wear long nylon/silk shorts and very common to wear some sort of sports or running shoes with socks. By and large the men are stocky and very muscular. They are not highly toned but have extremely powerful upper bodies. However they do not exclude any aggression in my experience although I would be naive to imagine that aggression and physical encounter is not a feature of the life for both Roma men and Roma women. The women to our heavily built and often very strong looking. However there are also extremely thin men and women too.

We were meeting with Janice Dawson who works as some sort of council employed community or neighbourhood officer. The area is known as the Park Ward it and extends for a square mile also to the north of the town centre and consists of a number of heavily populated terraced and back-to-back housing areas interspersed with small scale manufacturing or brownfield sites. Driving through I saw there was a mosque and I was told that the area had been populated in the post war years, the 1950s, by Italians and Ukrainians coming to work in the mills. This was followed by the arrival of the South Asian population who became the predominant group in the area. Over the last four years there has been a dramatic transformation and Janice was keen to emphasise how quickly and the astonishment at this taking place. The issues the area faced she said were the same as were probably faced in Rotherham or Sheffield. Issues with the number of school places particularly in the primary system. Demands on health care systems. Concerns about trafficking and prostitution.

She said that they had made a short to DVD at the centre. She had found a Roma Flag or possibly a poster of the flag and put it up at the centre in the hall. She had noticed that people stopped in front of the flag and said pointing at it I am Roma, we are Roma. She realised that it might be helpful to allow people to identify as Roma saying that initially people were frightened, or appeared to be frightened as far as she was concerned, to say they were Roma. The DVD is available on the website.

http://hxcentral.com/ward-forums-other-meetings/projects-in-park/

The centre hosts a variety of council services. The first person to whom I spoke in the office was Shakeela Zaman. At first she appeared to be diffident, and I felt that I was stepping on her toes asking to meet with Janice. However this turned out not to be the case at all and once we had made contact with Janice, who was an extremely if you so friendly and welcoming person, Shakeela also became extremely open and friendly. The office atmosphere was one of humour and gentle ribbing. That there were obviously pressures in the office as well. Janice made a point that during the drop-in which was taking place that day people might turn up from the Roma community with a huge variety of issues some of which were extremely difficult to deal with. She made the point which was corroborated by the other people in the office that it tended to be on a Friday afternoon that the most difficult issues would arrive, the implication was that these were issues connected with trafficking and all prostitution or some form possibly of abuse. In no way it was she trying to suggest that these were slowly problems connected to a Roma population which she clearly saw as a population with a large number of positive attributes. She has been quite clearly very moved by getting to know this group of people and reminding me of the people I have met in Rotherham she was a very clear working-class socialist.

Here is the email I sent to Janice following our meeting:

Hi Janice,
This is what I guess I do as well as be nosy! I keep minutes…
Our discussion today which both Carl and I found really helpful and encouraging – many thanks – consisted of the following points/ideas which you are going to try chase up one way or another! Each one is a photo possibility either at the Queen’s Road centre or elsewhere?

NOTE: we are coming to Community Iftar on 24th so if poss to set up some of the photo opps on the Thursday afternoon from – say – 15.00 onwards (could be there at 13.30 at earliest)

DONE
1. STAN FAKO – done!
2. KAREL – setting up as self employed carpet cleaner – done

TO DO
3. LUCAS – young man with Uni place in London
4. IVAN – Lucas’ brother involved in a Roma Matrix funded initiative and within that doing voluntary work at Credit Union
5. RAHILA – working with a Young Roma Youth Service
6. HALIFAX ROMA GROUP – recently constituted and possibly willing to be photographed
7. COLLAGE – gather together past images of Roma and mixed groups – send digital files to Carl for him to make a selection edit – include such a collage in local exhibition
8. EXHIBITION –in the Queen’s Road building in late/mid November 2014?
9. COMMUNITY IFTAR – Carl and Tim to attend on Thursday 24th

Best
Tim and Carl

Stan Fako was the Slovakian speaking or perhaps speaking worker at the centre. Czech I think he was only partly Roma possibly on one side. With Janice I had a discussion about the issues surrounding the use of non-Roma workers and the attitudes of ethnic Slovakians and Czechs towards the Roma. She understood exactly what I meant and cited an incident in which a worker had been sacked once it was realised that they were belittling and laughing at a class of Roma children acting out I think some sort of Christmas pageant. The Slovakian worker was at that time sniggering and saying what is the point into them doing this they don’t have any sort of religious beliefs or anything they are just ignorant. This person was immediately sacked. Carl photographed Stan when he was talking to firstly one young man who I briefly spoke to afterwards in my very poor and broken Romani. Secondly Carl photographed him speaking to Karel. Karel is setting himself up to be a self-employed carpet cleaner and was filling in some forms while Stan helped search for some cleaning equipment online for him. Karel had some English although it was very limited. Shakeera Immediately said that if he was starting as a carpet cleaner she would give him a go because currently she had to send her carpets of to Huddersfield to get them cleaned.

I went into the corridor while Carl was taking these photographs and tried to introduce myself to 3 Roma people sitting waiting outside. All of them turned out to be from the Czech Republic. The woman had skin which looked as if in some way it was smudged. She didn’t really respond either to write English nought to my attempts at Romani but one of the men dead and engaged with me in a really friendly fashion as if I were a visitor in a foreign country. He had what looked like a very damaged right of eye, glazed and partly white.

This notion of what it is like to learn the language has been very important to me in the past couple of days. I am having great problems learning the language because I have no immediate interlocutors where I am living, by which I mean on my street. Also I noticed that the Roma people I meet, by and large do not appear to have a great interest in my learning to speak their language. I contrast this with the passion with which people in Turkey, including the Roma, were excited that I was trying to speak their language. Is this a normal reaction of a migrant community? That they do not feel comfortable with someone trying to speak their language? Or is it something partly to do with the Czech republic and Slovak people who have some sort of what almost feels like a complex in that approach to speaking English?

I’ve also been thinking about the way that Roma people feel like a people on the move. When a Pakistani person moves or a Greek person moves or an Italian they leave behind their country and come to another country where they live and settle maybe keep or possibly allow their particular identity to gradually be assimilated. The Roma however do not leave the country behind but bring a country with them. They are their country.

st martins chapel – wells

Yesterday eveving I attended  Evensong at Wells Cathedral.  I had gone assuming that it would be a sung Evensong but found myself in St Martins Chapel amongst a small group of worshippers with the Book of Common Prayer in my hands.  I experience formalised worship like this as something akin to those little wisdom expressions that come in sweets, Chinese something cookies.  I also have ideas of the I Ching in my mind, in the sense that I understand the texts of the Bible to carry the possibility of meaning appropriate to any circumstance.  So I sat there listening or rather trying to keep up whilst listening as those taking part have a role to play in speaking through the responses and finding the correct rhythm to the pauses. 

The meaning that I might have found is secondary to my surprise.  I returned this morning to Matins to experience it again.  The odd manufacture of the Christian liturgy, of the whole edifice is quite a  construction.  Most of all it is the maintenance of the Old Testament in the present.  The constant reference to the people of Israel, the promise of God to the Israelites.  In this century when the real Israelites have returned to the Holy Land (Holy through Jesus not David) the use of their name to speak of Gods purpose and mystery is very painful.  No wonder that Islam sees Israel as the spear of a Christian west when the formal Church continues to rail at the Philistines. 

Wash out your mouth said the Lord.
This land is not yours any more that theirs.
All fall short of my command.
Pharasees and Philistines alike.
It takes a mighty army or a sling
But either way its not justice recorded
But victory called by some defeat.

So its restful in St Martins Chapel, intimate, you might be next to a Bishop or pauper in a small room.  Barely any one really cares is the truth.  We pray for the Cathedral and it is a good measure of the faithful.  Don’t trust God,  War or food you gather from the floor.  Don’t even trust museums, even living ones like this great edifice with its worshippers like lice eating a fictive dandruff.   I’ve nothing against lice and they do live on and on. 

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