A Taize Reflection: Why not giving a sß!t is not a good enough reason to get along

In the study of history we like to celebrate the overcoming of divisions and inequalities. Whether it is the improvement of women's rights, the overcoming of racial divisions, or a greater acceptance of homosexuality, we like to think we have made some progress in moving past some of the unjust divisions over the past 10 years. And we have. While one could readily point out that there are still significant divisions in society, a quick dip into New Zealand history will show that we have come a long way. It seems awfully cynical to say we have made no progress at all ( though whether the same could be said of economic divisions, or our own complete detachment from the earth, seems less certain).

How do we become a society of less conflict and greater tolerance of each other? It seems to me that one of the key causes of division is passion. Our own concerns about difference stem from our own passions and convictions; our community, our nation, our religion, our identity, our values. True, some prejudices are just ignorant - a 10 year old boy might decide a girl has cooties because his friend said so, or he might think someone from another religion is bad because his parents said so - and sometimes we might just simply be afraid of something or someone a bit unknown. But often it can be the attachment we have to own culture that can lead us to critique other cultures, the devotion we have to our own religion that leads us to dismiss another faith, the deeply seated values we have that provokes us to deny gay marriage. I think this can often lead us to be skeptical about passions and concerns, as they too often appear to divide people. So too, the answer to many divisions often tends to be an encouragement to stop caring about things so much. Thus the central premise of A Brave New World; a perfectly peaceful and harmonious world, found precisely in the fact that nobody has any attachments to or deeply felt feelings about anyone or anything. But this raises a question; isn't passion a good thing?

Boney M's answer to the problem of racism was essentially to dissolve race altogether. Black, white, brown, pale, dark; the answer to racial divisions is to dissolve race altogether and make everyone look the same. Similar arguments seemed to take place over the gay marriage bill. Many (not all) devoted to the concept of heterosexual marriage found it hard to find room for a definition of marriage that included homosexual union. The argument against this was generally bewilderment that somebody could take heterosexual marriage so seriously; 'who cares' was often the best argument that could be given in response - particularly from Christians in fact (the few that supported the bill anyway). The fact that New Zealanders so greatly celebrated Maurice Williamson's speech seems indicative of this kind of thinking within New Zealand culture. I'm not saying people just found it funny (fair enough); people celebrated it. All the man did was get up and say he couldn't believe why anybody would be remotely concerned about the bill (after taking some potshots at fundamentalists - the easiest targets in the world). He suggested people should stop caring so much, given that the world would not explode should the bill go through. If that's the only ethical category we have then I guess we shouldn't care about anything, except perhaps climate change. I can hear people say he was just being funny; if that's the case we should have a good laugh before turning to the next person to provide us with a slightly more meaningful point, rather than celebrating Maurice Williamson as ushering in a new era of tolerance. Contrast this with Louisa Wall, who took the concerns of the many within the pacific community very seriously. She sought to listen to and seriously address the views of others, while offering her own thoughtful and detailed argument about why she was promoting the bill.  Who had the better argument here? the one who was pushed on by her interpretation of human rights and her research into disturbing suicide statistics linked to feelings of innate error and social exclusion, or the one who said 'hey you guys who care about heterosexual marriage - stop caring so much!' 

The problem with the latter approach is that, while seeking to create a certain kind of unity, it only creates other divisions. If we make unconcern the primary basis on which to create ethical change, and we fail to understand or even listen to those who are concerned, then we leave the latter group alienated and hurt. Furthermore, we dis-empower people from making truly ethical decisions; if we are left with a choice of either acceptance of others built around not caring or a feeling of being divisive by retaining a sense of concern for traditional values or ideas, then not only will we slowly become passionless people, but we will allow traditional values and ideas to become stagnant and archaic. 

I'm not saying it's essential you care about everything. You may not care about Gay marriage, and that is quite fair enough. I, for one, find it difficult to care less about denominational difference within Christianity, an issue which has led to wars in the past. But I don't see my lack of concern as the answer to an ecumenical church (an approach I have heard many take before). Rather, I would follow Taize's lead in creating a thoughtful and ethically sound rational for why Christian unity is essential for the future of the church. Such an approach doesn't dismiss passionate Catholics and passionate Anglicans, it simply offers a reason for why they may be even more passionate about greater unification between the two. Rather than seeking to suck passion from people, it seeks to trump it altogether. It is unity built on passion. Unification does not lie in dissolving concern for one's denomination and tradition, it lies in emphasising how much more unified we are in Christ. Such a perspective does not render tradition as unimportant. Indeed, part of the way unification can be achieved is by sharing stories of our traditions and our differences. This is precisely what Louisa Wall did - rather than dismissing people's values and traditions as irrelevant, she sought to provide reasons why marriage equality was of great ethical importance. One may disagree with those reasons, but at least there was a conversation.

Icons at Taize

Taize Church

Hearing each others stories and thus our passions is an important step toward unity. At times we may even believe we have greater differences than points in common, but that we simply need to find a way to coexist anyhow. In examples where differences are so pronounced and coexistence, let alone unity, seems impossible, hearing each others stories seems a good place to start. There are so many examples where convictions and passions lead to conflict. However, the solution is not to give up our convictions and passions, for that seems the worst possible method of unity. Rather, we need to create a forum in which convictions and passions are listened to. We may well not care about difference, but we cannot expect that of everyone, nor should we. We need to be more thoughtful in our quest to reduce conflict and division in our world. 

Taize is a special place. The most ecumenical place I have ever been to. This has been achieved by some of the most thoughtful ecumenical theology I have ever read and witnessed, not a dissolution of tradition. 

Saying goodbye to Taize (and Bauke) before hopping on the bikes

To the West

Turkey is a strange country. Poised between Europe, Asia and the Middle East, its hard to know just what continent it belongs to. Still, it felt decidedly more Western than Iraqi Kurdistan, and so felt like a return to a culture we were more familiar with upon arrival. Leaving Kurdistan behind felt unusual. I was surprised by how seamlessly I shifted back into the Western swing of things, seemingly forgetting than I had spent the previous 5 months in countries located in the Middle East. Remembering the people I had left behind in Kurdistan and the uncertain future they faced also left me with feelings of confusion and guilt.I continued to keep a close eye on the news, and events continued to get worse, particularly in the Nineveh province.

The old city of Istanbul is small, and so felt familiar upon arrival, even though I had only spent one night there previously. Istanbul is of course huge, and I have heard from more than one person that it takes months to discover all the city has to offer. We stayed in a backpackers with beautiful, albeit steep and plentiful, stone steps. In fact, I proceeded to slip down the steps on numerous occasions, one time even managing to hit the side of my neck on a chair at the bottom. The hostel manager became greatly concerned for my well being, as he would often hear a loud noise and then find me appear in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs in front of reception.

We flew out of Istanbul and arrived in Manchester. I had never been to the UK or Europe before, so it was quite new and adventurous for me. At first, everything just sounded like a giant television (I guess that's kinda sad to admit), and I felt like I had cricket commentators to the left of me and Coronation Street actors to the right of me. A couple of trains later the same day found us in Durham, and myself in a small theological library fairly much equivalent to Knox library in Dunedin reading William Cavanaugh's book on Globalisation, Being Consumed.    

Lindisfarne in England

Scotland is a beautiful place, although the temperature north of Edinburgh seems incapable of rising above 20 degrees. I, as usual, overestimated my ability to navigate new terrain without a map, and twisty roads made compass reliance a poor option. We drove along the edge of the Isle of Skye and walked the rolling hills in search of touristy rock formations, which we could never work out if we had found or not. After a week in Scotland we traveled south to Leeds, where any small ideas lurking in the far reaches of my mind about getting a tattoo were left in ashes (Brazil's World Cup dreams were burnt to a crisp around the same time). Mega Bus then drove us to London, where my expectations were to meet the Queen, be overwhelmed by the size of the city, and be stabbed. I wasn't stabbed, I didn't even see the Queen, but I was quite overwhelmed with city-ness. 

Scotland

Isle of Skye

Lunch at Lochness. No monster.

My continental journey began in Belgium, where I caught up with friends, drank some good beer, and got to know some anarchists dedicated to squatting in protest to the absurd amount of empty buildings in Brussels. Heading to the stunning but extremely touristy location of Bruges was quite a contrast, but I was fortunate enough to have some friends house-sitting nearby who could pick me up and take me to the country to witness significant electrical storms and almost exercise a dog to death. After a brief excursion to attend my sisters wedding in New Zealand I returned to Paris to ebb and flow with the river of tourists before heading to Taize, a place I had long wanted to visit. I was not to be disappointed. 

The Trappist monks know how to make a good beer.

Don't be lured into this shop, no matter how good the cookies look.

Perfect timing arriving in Bruges.

Sacre Couer in Paris.

Paris at night

Onto the bike and down to Taize