Hope in a turbulent world

For the poor shall never cease out of the land: therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hands wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land. [Deuteronomy 15:11]

If we open the pages of a weekend travel supplement, we are confronted with idyllic images of sun kissed beaches: tranquil getaways in exotic destinations or mini-breaks a mere short haul flight away. The world is presented as a realm for us to explore and delight in for our indulgence.

If we look at the front pages of those same newspapers we are confronted with terrible images of those same holiday resorts. The sun still shines on golden sands; the blue hews of water and sky are vibrant as ever. But over the last 24 hours, we've heard of the horror of an attack on a Tunisian beach; armed men emerging from the sea with volleys of gun fire; sun loungers and towels becoming shrouds.

Over recent weeks we've seen images of migrants being plucked from the Mediterranean waters; in Kos western holidaymakers share beaches with those fleeing conflict in Syria. Reflecting on her cousin's determined walk across the Sahara to Europe, the Nigerian writer Chibundu Onuzo says: there are no oceans wide enough to stop migrants... from dreaming of a better life. 

We live in a turbulent world wrought with contradictions.The social, economic and political life of the European Union is under strain: member countries facing a range of challenges from the immigration crisis in Italy to the debt burden of Greece.  The horrific violence perpetuated by Islamic State and affiliated groups adds to the fear and instability across North Africa and the Middle East.

Such violence makes us face the problem of evil in an acute way - we seek answers in psychology and military tactics.  If human nature includes a deep capacity for love and empathy rather than violence, how to make sense of this? How do we respond? The longing for liberty and justice embodied in Magna Carta have universal resonance. We continue to seek peace and pursue it.

Neither Deuteronomy nor Paul's experience in Acts offer us easy answers to the situations underlying the headlines and images. They do however invite us to think and act with prayerful generosity. The Hebrew books of the law, build into the workings of society a pattern of remission of debt. It is the vision which inspired the Jubilee Debt Campaign, that countries might be free to invest in their health, education and infrastructure.

Alleviating need is a source of divine blessing. Hard-heartedness and tightfistedness are condemned. Giving liberally, with an open hand and heart, is what God commands; it reflects God's image in us.   Acting in this way draws us into God's purposes; we become a source of blessing to others, who in turn bless.

In the Acts of the Apostles, we glimpse how the good news of God's love made manifest in Jesus Christ was proclaimed across the known world in the power of the Spirit.  From Jerusalem, Athens and Rome we travel through a world like ours: competing philosophies, episodic persecution, expanding trade routes and the ebb and flow of cross cultural interactions. Throughout this, Paul is trying to make sense of his encounter with the risen Christ and how to share it.  Might the change of heart he experienced  transform not only his life, but the whole world?

Paul finds himself in a ship, crossing the Mediterranean: stormy seas, rocks, overburdened vessels and shallow waters made it as  fearful an  experience as it is today.  On the one hand we see a pragmatism to Paul. He tells people to eat that they may survive. On the other, he offers spiritual encouragement. He takes bread and gave thanks to God; he broke it and they ate.

He brings into a situation of fear and uncertainty a glimpse of God's grace, enacting what we might recognise as the Eucharist, Holy Communion. He declares that all shall be saved.  Seeking the welfare of all is an  action that engenders trust; a sign that preserves the lives of prisoners.

Violence perpetuates destruction and division.  Yet human beings dream of a better life and God longs to bless us. There are seeds of hope. For us, that is not just about empathy but seeing in God's image in the other.

Overcoming conflict and inequality will demand something of us and our leaders. We pray that our financial and political systems, our engineering skill and entrepreneurial imagination may be combined with open hearted compassion to create a sustainable future for our world.

May our nation be source of blessing, hope and healing.

As Archbishop Justin put it in his statement in response to Friday's attrocities: we must reaffirm our solidarity with each other and affirm the great treasures of freedom, in religion and so many other ways. Our strength is in the God who conquered evil when Jesus rose from the dead, and on His death and victory we find the basis of our future.

A prayer for peace following attacks in Kuwait, Tunisia  and France (from the Church of England  website):

Compassionate God and Father of all,
we are horrified at violence in so many parts of the world.
It seems that none are safe and some are terrified.
Hold back the hands that kill and maim;
turn around hearts that hate.
Grant instead your strong Spirit of Peace -
peace that passes our understanding but changes lives,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


© Julie Gittoes 2015

See these women!

Last night, it was wonderful to be with friends and colleagues at Chichester Cathedral for the private view of Chris Gollon's major touring exhibition "Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible". Following words of welcome by the Dean, David Tregunna (Director of IAP Fine Art) thanked staff and sponsors for their support. He also spoke about the impact of working with Chris for 20 years - highlighting the critical acclaim that his paintings are receiving. He focused on the Pieta which Lord Richard Harries described, in a lecture at the Museum of London, as having prayerful posture which was a sign of hope. Here follows the text of my talk; and a reflection on the Q&A session led by Canon Anthony.

It's thrilling to see Chris Gollon's work in a Cathedral which has a well-established vision for the arts; it's fitting that this show opens during the first week of the Festival of Chichester.

From Guildford onwards, this company of women grows cathedral by cathedral.  It's been overwhelming to see how Chris has responded to Canon Anthony's suggestion to paint an image of Judas' Wife.

Before I say something about women, Mary and Incarnation, I want to talk about Chris. I often say on such occasions, that he has a tremendous capacity to hold "moments" in narratives: moments of decision, exhaustion, tenderness and violence.  He draws us into moments in time, an intensified present, as we anticipation a resolution.

Chris does this by paying attention to words & the gaps in stories, to anonymous women and those we think we know.  He reflects our humanity in these particular women: sexuality and power, grief and tenacity, prayer and desire.  It's all laid bare.

I'm not going to tell the stories for you: read about them, interact with them and be interrogated by them. Look, wait, walk away; respond to what you find compelling or provocative; see what unfolds.

Chris Gollon - The Marytrdom of St Cecilia (1st Version) 2014

We can't avoid the physicality of these women:  bruised skin, tear stained eyes; hands that touch, hold, accuse, protect; cries that are heartrending, ear-piecing and silent. Paying attention is more than looking at these women. Chris makes us wait with the infamous, iconic and unknown; Hannah, Cecilia, Mary Magdalene, the women of Jerusalem, and the many nameless wives.  Their loves and losses interact with ours. Our now meets their fear and potential.

Chris's diptych manifests these layers of recognisable human story.  In Madonna & Child we see intimacy of a mother cradling an infant son, in a glow or radiant light.  Mary holds the one who is God with us. She also holds an apple. An echo of Eden - goodness, creation, freedom and abundance; a reminder of temptation, our misdirected desires and capacity to wound others. In Mary's hand it becomes a sign of God's faithful love Rather than abandoning us, he reaches out to us.  This is the mystery of incarnation; God becoming flesh of our flesh.

Chris Gollon - Madonna & Child  2013

Dare we make sense of this we can only make sense of this as we look on Judas' Wife.  Chris holds this dark moment, encapsulating all we fear.  Her expression conveys the visceral pain of grief and incomprehension and the chaos of suicide. This woman has lost her husband: life forever disrupted, diminished, made other. This woman faces confronts Judas' part in Jesus death: a burden of alienation for which heart-break is too weak a word.

Chris Gollon - Judas' Wife (First Version) 2015 

Judas dies; Jesus dies. We wait. We endure. Grief is overwhelming. A woman howls; a woman cradles her dead son.

In Chris's Pieta, which Lord Harries describes as being prayerful and hopeful, we see the cost of love: her son lives, suffers and dies for us. We see the unimaginable grief of Mary bearing the dead weight of her child. And yet, in the fragility and resilience of her prayerful composure, we glimpse something of the beyond breaking in, what we might call grace, otherness, transcendence or the divine.  It's a love that restores us, gives us new life. Incarnation is the ultimate expression of love, actually.

Chris Gollon - Pieta (2013) 

The graced-ness we see is the enduring power of a love that will not let us go; that will not stop forgiving.  Love that reaches to the depths of taking life; and mourning death.  Love we glimpse in gestures these women make; the pauses we hold; new life that breaks in, like the dawn light rising as Mary Magdalene lies in exhaustion face at the foot of the cross. This isn't the ending we expected.

Thank you Chris for opening up new horizons of incarnation, Mary and these women; for letting us explore love, intimacy, grief and renewal.

Thank you for allowing us to ask:  What sense to we make of this? What meaning do we find in this?

© Julie Gittoes 2015

At the end of the talk, Canon Dr  Anthony Cane spoke about the research he done on Judas for his PhD (now published by Ashgate) and he explored the way in which he was given a back story - including his wife. He talked about the way in which she was presented as Eve, tempting or persuading Judas to betray Jesus.  He asked whether Chris had thought of pursing such an approach, because the final painting conveyed something very different. 

Chris responded by talking about the different versions he had painted, but whcih didn't feel right because she looked too pleased with herself (whatever her complicity with Judas' actions). He went on to consider  the impact of what I had described as a double bereavement; resulting in an image that liberates Judas' Wife from the negative mythology. It gives her  an expression that is overwhelming and intense about the nature of grief. Canon Anthony responded with refelctions on the pastoral side of his ministry - in relation to death, but also in relation to the accute grief in relation to suicide. 

A question from the audiance picked up on the suffering and pain in Chris's work and asked about having more about the resurrection. I responded on how resurrection is rarely sudden and painless; and that Chris draws us into what we call Holy Saturday, a time of waiting and uncertainty. I felt that Chris gives us hints of resurrection and renewal - in his use of light and in the sunrise surrounding Mary at the base of the cross. Chris's work has an honesty about it in relation to human experience of death, suffering and hope; but he also makes us work quite hard at glimpsing and thinking through what we mean by resurrection. 

Why are the arts so important to us?

Today I was very warmly welcomed by Canon Anthony, friends and colleagues at Chichester Cathedral. It was a joy to preach at the  Eucharist which marked the opening weekend of the Festival of Chichester, especially as the work of the Chris Gollon will be on show there until August. Chris and David, his curator, have become friends in the course of our collaboration, which began as we prepared for his exhibition at Guildford. Today's congregation had a sneak preview of his piece "Judas Wife".  

It is a tremendous delight to be with you in this beautiful Cathedral, set in a vibrant city, as you launch this year's Festival of Chichester.  An exciting and stimulating programme of events lies ahead of you as you celebrate the arts - in craft and comedy; in classical music and theatre; cinema and fine art; in spoken word and rhythms of folk and jazz.

The dedication of a small committee, the City Council and the media draws together local talent and well known names. Today those strands are held together in a Cathedral Church committed to the arts. All that takes place over the next four weeks will inspire,challenge, excite and provoke many hundreds of people; the impact will flow beyond this Chichester itself.

The Festival of Chichester

http://festivalofchichester.co.uk

That's all fabulous stuff; but it still begs a question: why are the arts so important to us? Art and religion are both in the business of telling stories which explore the depths of our humanity - our fears, desires, hopes and regrets. We stretch our forms of expression beyond the rational and verbal into the symbolic, the physical, the creative and the sensual.

Art and religion draw us more deeply into who we are; and they draw us beyond the limitations of our experience towards a deeper truth. We leave the gallery, theatre, bar or church wiser and more humane.  It's all too easy to scorn Saturday night TV: but lest this sounds too highbrow, hospital dramas (my guilty pleasure!) and stand-up comedy also reflect our human nature; or make us laugh at the quirks of our character. In these expressions of humanity we find ourselves afresh. Somehow, the beyond breaks in; something  of God's grace and love transfigures us.

If narratives conveyed in a painting, on the stage or in lyrics captivate us, it's no wonder that Jesus used parables to communicate the love of God. Rather than being cryptic stories, they are means of making comparisons. In Mark's Gospel, Jesus describes God's kingdom in relation to things we already know. To understand God's ways we have to look around us, we find clues in the world.

If we pay attention to the dynamics of growth, we are reminded of the potential of small, seemingly insignificant things. The plant cuttings of Ezekiel become fruit producing trees, with boughs offering shade and nesting places. The seeds of Jesus' parable fall to the ground, die, sprout and bear a rich harvest. The tiniest of seeds contains nutrients, potential and energy; a slow process growth produces a great shrub; a place of sanctuary and rest.

God's Kingdom operates by this subtle process.  In creation, God reveals his love; in Jesus he reveals he desire to forgive; in the Spirit he continues to work in us.   Terry Eagleton, who's taking part in the festival, said this in his review of Dawkins' The God Delusion: 'because the universe is God's it shares his life, which is the life of freedom... God is not an obstacle to our autonomy and enjoyment... but the power that allows us to be ourselves. Like the unconscious, he is closer to us that we are to ourselves'.

To be human is to seek after this love in which we live and move and have our being. The writers of the law and  psalms, the prophets, the poets and historians all witness to the promise of God's faithfulness despite our propensity to mess things up. God doesn't give up on us. In Jesus Christ, he dwells with us in our goodness and complexity.

He frees people from mental anguish; blesses children; subverts notions of greatness; heals the sick and restores them to community; he crosses boundaries of social acceptability.  Forgiveness is offered as he responds to the touch of one woman and the pleading of another.

He himself is like the seed in today's parable - falling to the ground, dying and bearing a rich harvest.  He faces suffering, abandonment, humiliation and death. His risen life bursts from the tomb. He pours out upon us the gift of his Spirit. A Spirit of inspiration, peace, joy, creativity, wisdom, kindness. A Spirit who leads us into all truth; its a daring Spirit, inviting us to pay attention in all our endeavours.

The artist Chris Gollon exemplifies such attentiveness. He has an extraordinary capacity to hold moments in stories. He attends to the gaps within narratives - the familiar, the unknown and the unresolved. Having collaborated with him for 18 months, it is wonderful that his work will be in your Cathedral during the festival. Perhaps his most powerful image is that of Judas' Wife on display after this service.

Chris Gollon - Judas Wife (first version, 2015)

Canon Anthony suggested her as a subject based on his theological work on Judas. What Gollon has done is pay deep attention to the words and silences of the biblical narrative; to the cries and bewilderment of our human grief. He coneys the despair wrought by betrayal, guilt and suicide. In her face we see the anguish of disrupted domesticity; the alienation of a heart-break so profound we cannot reach out to her. Nor can we look away.

This woman has lost her husband. This widow faces his complicity in Jesus' death.

And yet: without lessening the personal loss or minimising the horror, Gollon invites us to stand alongside her. The enduring impact of this painting isn't just a matter of human identification - as we see in an unknown woman all that we most fear. Gollon disrupts time: he holds a moment in a story that is ours and God's.

There are two deaths at the heart of the New Testament: Judas and Jesus.  Facing this dark hour, Bob Dylan sang: 'you'll have to decide / whether Judas Iscariot / had God on his side'. In Jesus, God is already there: healing wounds with the balm of love and forgiveness. There is no-longer any place where God is not.

In a violent and untimely death, there is the light and love that we cannot articulate. The graced-ness of Judas' Wife  is not born of naive optimism. Our hope flows from her endurance; her endurance from God's refusal to abandon us.

God's Spirit is at work in us - in our hesitant patterns of art and prayer. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, touches on this. He tells them that at times he is beside himself - perhaps taken beyond his body to that place beyond words; caught up in luminous intensity of God. At other times he is in his right mind - making connections, forming arguments, sharing his hopes, exhorting people to faithful endurance.  We, like him, are caught up in holy mysteries. We are a new creation; abiding in most excellent gift of love.

In this Eucharist, the stories of our lives are held and reframed; here the story of God's generous love is re-enacted. Here time and eternity meet. In bread, wine and blessing we find love, forgiveness and peace. We touch and taste and see how gracious the Lord is. Here we are renewed; transformed. We leave this sacred place to attend to a holy world; to be people who seek God's kingdom of justice, mercy, compassion, hope and love.

Today is a celebration, of art and religion because they call us to pay attention to what is happening around us; to find otherness in the ordinary. They draw us into a new reality; and change us. Rejoice in this festival season; may it enrich, console and inspire. May it bring forth a rich harvest of renewed communities. It is a sign of God's Kingdom; of God at work in human frailty, creativity and imagination.

© 2015 Julie Gittoes

An unnamed woman: betrayal, grief and love

Judas is one of the most infamous men in history: he is known to us as the disciple who betrayed Jesus with a kiss.  He is a complex and intriguing character whose motivations continue to fascinate artists and writers, theologians and commentators alike.

Earlier this year, the writer and broadcaster Peter Stanford published Judas: the troubling history of the renegade apostle (Hodder & Stoughton, 2015). In his historical and cultural biography, he explores how even the name 'Judas' became closely associated with betrayal, and even evil. Is Judas the ultimate traitor? Perhaps he unsettles us precisely because he highlights our deepest anxieties about fidelity in friendship.

However, a decade ago, Anthony Cane explored the significance of Judas in Christian theology (The Place of Judas Iscariot in Christology, Ashgate 2005). His work sheds light on how Judas is understood; and the way Jesus is understood. This has implications for how we talk about salvation as well as the nature of evil and suffering. 

It was Anthony's research that resulted in the artist Chris Gollon being invited to paint an image of Judas' wife.  Having exhibited at Guildford Cathedral in 2014, his exhibition 'Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible' is on a national tour of cathedrals. Each cathedral suggested new subject and Anthony's knowledge of Judas' back story led him to suggest his wife (which will be unveiled at Chichester Cathedral on 16th June).  You can read more about this in an fascinating piece in the Independent by Nick Clark, following an interview with Chris and Anthony: 

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/news/artist-finally-puts-a-face-to-the-name-of-mrs-judas-iscariot-10314425.html

The painting that Chris produced forces us to consider not only the impact of  Judas' suicide on this unnamed woman; it also makes us ponder what her role might have been in his decision to betray Jesus in the first place. 

Chris Gollon - Judas' Wife (first version, 2015)

I was overwhelmed by the complexity and intensity of this painting the first time I saw it.  Whatever her motivation, her grief is palpable. Chris has an amazing capacity to hold us in a moment, before we know how it might resolve.  She does not so much hold a letter but crumple it; almost as if its contents are too much to bear. The words of remorse, farewell or love have a devastating effect.

She is overtaken by an emotional and physical response to a double bereavement. Not only has she lost a husband whom she loved but she has to face Jesus' death. She confronts the cost of one man's action; his role (her role?) in the shocking events that unfold. 

What we see in her is heartbreak. In the depths of her despair, she is alienated.  This is the effect grief sometimes has on us. We cross the street or stand motionless at a graveside.  We know that there are no words yet we know we find ways of expressing condolence. We might howl in distress; we might be stuck dumb.  Judas' wife's expression is compelling: we can't look away but nor can we bear to face her; we can't walk away or ease her pain. Perhaps all we can do is wait with her?

So many of Chris's painting speak of the human capacity to endure: to be with others and to confront despair. This patience bearing with has echos in my mind with Paul's letter to the Romans - and his assurance that somehow, especially when we cannot make sense of things, there is still hope.  

At the heart of the New Testament, there are two deaths.  

At the heart of that narrative there is betrayal and denial; some flee, some wait and some hide behind locked doors. 

The death of one man creates a widow. The death of the one he betrayed someone how, beyond the limits of human eloquence, reveals that there is no longer any place where God is not. 

Somehow... this image, which takes us to the depth of grief, also reveals the nature of love.

© 2015 Julie Gittoes

Family Values?

Saturday mornings don't seem complete without a mug of strong coffee and a paper. It's a comforting ritual, regardless of how busy I am.  Alongside weighty editorials offering political opinion there are the (sometimes) witty diary columns and in yesterday's paper, ten recipes for strawberries!

Newspapers offer us snapshots into human lives: setting the stories of migrants alongside the experiences of a cross section of Londoners. We find human intrigue, compassion and inspiration in the pages of the weekend supplements.  In one such regular feature in The Guardian, a public figure describes the  family values that made them who they are.

The broadcaster Peter Snow reflects on the terrors of being sent to boarding school aged seven; the Lib Dem Peer Shirley Williams describes the morals instilled in her by her parents and taking in her brother's children when he died; the Olympic athlete Kelly Holmes talks about the time she spent in a children's home; the actress Imelda Staunton reveals how important her parents' approval was when she was growing up.

 My family is bigger than 'my' family

In his Gospel, Mark is also concerned with identity and 'family values' albeit of a different sort. In a narrative that is full of challenge and misunderstandings, silences and statements of faith, he is concerned with one primary question. Who is Jesus? Yet by bringing us into relationship with this controversial and charismatic figure, we also discover who we are; who we are called to be; the values that are to shape us. The answer to Mark's question radically shifts our self understanding and our relationships precisely because it tells us about God: the one who is the ground of our being, who changes the world, who is at work in us.

Today we encounter two groups who are struggling to make sense of who Jesus is.  Both his closest relatives and those in authority are confused by what they see and hear of Jesus' teaching and healing. In the previous chapter, an enthusiastic crowd follows him to the lakeside, crushing in on him. Some voices declare that he is God's Son; he's called his followers into deeper commitment and he commissions the twelve. Then Jesus goes home; he retreats from public gaze. We join the story just as space and privacy is interrupted by the crowd. 

In a scene akin to a celebrity being mobbed by fans, he cannot eat.  His family come forward - they're worried for him. They think he's out of his mind. They want to protect or restrain him. Who is Jesus? He's their brother, their son. He's their Jesus; they've known him all his life. They want to get him away; he's attracting the wrong sort of attention.

Amidst the clamour and jostling bodies, the scribes arrive. They have come  up from Jerusalem to Galilee.  The guardians of the law and religious practice, have come to see for themselves. The rumours are true; his ministry of healing and teaching is having a worrying impact on an hysterical crowd. The situation is out of control. They want to stop this spectacle; they are fearful of the power at work, but unable to see it as revealing the love of God.

The scribes' hostility leads to a corrosive explanation. Who is Jesus? He must be someone in league with the Beelzebul, the master of evil spirits; the implication is that he's drawing on dark arts. Rather than bring release to those ensnared by external forces, he was himself possessed and being controlled.

Jesus' response takes a common sense turn: why would Satan want Jesus to cast out evil spirits, for that would weaken his own power? Jesus is bringing release to those influenced by forces of darkness, not colluding with it.  Then Jesus moves from a polite exchange based on the logic of divided kingdoms and households.

The scribes are so locked into their incomprehension that they use the most devastating charge they can find: Jesus has an unclean spirit. The implication is that he is outside the scope of God's activity; someone cut off from religious and familiar community; someone without honour and dignity; someone controlled by external destructive forces; a non-person.

That, says Jesus, is a radical and willful distortion of what they see.  They refuse to see the love, compassion and freedom breaking into human lives through Jesus' ministry. It is an act of deliberate hostility towards God. In the face of the break down of their own logic, they attribute Jesus' power to evil, rather than glorifying the spirit of God being made manifest. Jesus names this as unforgivable.

The scribes are fearful, defensive and out of their depth. They represent the failure to grasp what is happening in Jesus' ministry. In contrast, the crowds are eager to see Jesus, to hear him and to reach out to him.  For in him, they find the healing and peace of God. Perhaps the a calm descends and the jostling ceases; Jesus is able to re-enter the house and sit with this group who see in him the fullness of God's love.

The moment of confrontation forces a decision: who is Jesus? The Son of God or one with an unclean spirit? Perhaps now the concerns of his family are heightened; to be at the heart of such an aggressive public spectacle is dangerous and embarrassing; they want to enfold him in the safety of their domestic realm.

Whilst his family are outside, Jesus has drawn around him a new community. He takes the familial loyalty expected within Jewish culture and extends that honour and love to all people.  Those who respond find their place within the Kingdom of God. They are doing the will of God; they are paying attention to the love of God in the ordinariness of a home.

At this moment, Jesus' family are unable to understand and are unable to sit with them. The total commitment Jesus demands challenges earthly loyalties. Later, we learn that Mary and James bear the cost of discipleship - in his mother's faithful waiting and prayer amidst death and resurrection; in his brother's leadership of the church in Jerusalem.

Who is Jesus? He is his Father's Son, bringing healing, hope, forgiveness and peace; defeating death and bringing new life in the Spirit.

Who are we? We are those who find new worth as members of his family.  We are called to do his will as his body in the world.

Paul writes to the Corinthians about the fragility of our physical bodies - he's honest about our outward natures wasting away: we ache, gain a few pounds, find gray hair and become more dependent on each other. However, our inner nature is being renewed and transformed. We are part of a beautiful, corporate body.  The light and glory of the good news of who Jesus is, is reflected in our relationships; through our words and actions, the grace of God extends to more and more people. 

Our family values are shaped by knowing God in Scripture; by encountering God in worship, most intimately in communion. Kneeling and extending our hands to touch and taste bread and wine; becoming for us the fullness of God, which shapes all that we are.

Thus we are not wedded, pardon the pun, to societal family structures of marriage and  2.4 children, in that we don't make an idol of our blood ties. Our notion of "family" if far broader than that.
We embrace one another within a diverse network of men and women, young and old; this family is richer and more complex than a nuclear family. 

We invite others to participate in a common life which embraces the godparent and the single parent; it redefines what it means to be "single" as we cease to be atomized individuals or autonomous family units.  We are bound together by the Spirit; we are in Christ, called to do things with others that reflects the glorious love of God. May our lives bring hope and compassion, forgiveness and love.



© 2015 Julie Gittoes