Christians called to 'deep solidarity' with poor

Rev Al Barrett

An Anglican vicar called for a radically receptive solidarity with the poor and marginalised in his keynote address to the 40th annual gathering of the Justice and Peace Network of England and Wales in Swanwick, Derbyshire, last Friday.

The Reverend Dr Al Barrett is Vicar in Hodge Hill, East Birmingham (known locally as the Wasteland) where he has been involved in grassroots community-building since 2010.

In his talk entitled 'Can anybody hear me?' - Christian discipleship in Brexit Britain in the shadow of Grenfell Tower,' Rev Barrett noted how his own vision chimed with that of Pope Francis's preaching of 'encounter' in genuine, mutually nurturing relationships.

Rev Barrett noted that these are times of 'profound fragmentation' - generational, ethnic, socio-economic - and he identified an underlying post-imperial melancholia, in British society, as argued by the historian Paul Gilroy: 'the shock and anxiety that followed from a loss of any sense that the national collective was bound by a coherent and distinctive culture'. Lurking under this melancholia, he added, was a further inability to 'work through' the feelings of 'discomfort, shame, and perplexity' at the horrors of that imperial history itself, and its white supremacist ideology.

Rev Barrett argued that our entrenched, and widening, class divides - our structural inequalities - were the effects not just of current austerity policies, but also 'the longer-term legacy of Thatcherism, deindustrialization and the rise of the super-rich.' He summarised precarity as 'the lack or loss of employment (or insecure, zero-hours contracts); poor quality, overcrowded and inadequately available housing; unyielding and punitive welfare regimes; and variable and uncertain access to food and healthcare; coupled with a lack or loss of voice in politics' - all making for a perfect storm. 'Many people have to deal with a hell of a lot more precarity than others.'

Rev Barrett then came to a crucial moment in his talk: 'In the early hours of 14th June 2017, a 24-storey tower block in west London caught fire. The fire spread with terrifying speed and ferocity, and despite a massive fire-fighting operation, 71 people lost their lives. The victims came from many different nationalities, many different backgrounds, but they were almost all poor. The helpers came almost immediately: Muslims coming back from prayers after breaking the fast in the middle of the night; and not long after, Christians at local churches throwing open the doors, offering hospitality, food and water, spaces to lament and to pray… and in the days and weeks after, brokering gatherings with politicians, and beginning to call for justice.'

'In the days that followed the Grenfell Tower tragedy,' Rev Barrett continued, 'we discovered that residents of the Tower, members of the Grenfell Action Group, had been issuing repeated warnings for several years before, that "only a catastrophic event will expose the ineptitude and incompetence of our landlord . . . and bring an end to the dangerous living conditions and neglect of health and safety legislation that they inflict upon their tenants" (Grenfell Action Group 2016). 'And then slowly we discovered that the cladding was "insulation" not from the cold, not from fire (in fact quite the opposite), but visually insulating rich neighbours in North Kensington from the poor housing and its occupants around them. It was a symptom of a wider disconnection,' he said.

'In a lecture two months after the fire,' Rev Barrett continued, 'the journalist Jon Snow articulated the profound and dangerous "disconnect" between those who are part of "the elite" (within which he includes himself and his journalist colleagues), and "the lives, concerns, and needs of those who are not". 'Snow added: "We can accuse the political classes for their failures, and we do. But we are guilty of them ourselves. We are too far removed from those who lived their lives in Grenfell and who, across the country, now live on amid the combustible cladding, the lack of sprinklers, the absence of centralised fire alarms and more, revealed by the Grenfell Tower."

'Jon Snow's remarks bear more than a passing resonance with Pope Francis' Laudato Si,' noted Rev Barrett, and he quoted from that encyclical: 'Many professionals, opinion makers, communications media and centres of power, being located in affluent urban areas, are far removed from the poor, with little direct contact with their problems. … Their lack of physical contact and encounter, encouraged at times by the disintegration of our cities, can lead to a numbing of conscience and to tendentious analyses which neglect parts of reality.' The Grenfell tragedy had brought the issue of disconnection into sharp focus, Dr Barrett asserted. Rather than seeing their role as simply 'communicating to' the wider population, journalists - as part of what Snow called the 'narrow elite' - should be bridging divides of class and background to get to know their audience, he urged. John Snow had noted, 'So casually written off as nameless migrants, scroungers, and the rest, actually, and it should be no shock to us, the Tower was full of talent.'

Here Dr Barrett came to a key question: How might the Church as the body of Christ stretching from North Kensington to Swanwick and far beyond have come to truly see the talent of the Tower's residents, how might it have thoroughly heard their voices, in those years before the devastating fire - the years of what we might call 'ordinary time' - before Grenfell Tower became tragic headline news?

The Church Urban Fund has identified something it calls the 'web of poverty', he said. 'It talks about not just poverty of resources, but also poverty of relationships, and poverty of identity - the kind of stories that are told about us, the kind of stories we absorb and believe and live out for ourselves, because others have said this is how we are. Pushed to the edge, we experience blame, demonization, marginalization and even expulsion.'

Rev Barrett continued: 'The Scottish writer Alastair McIntosh reminds us that poverty is "structural, being systemic to the distribution of power, resources and educational opportunities in society. Second, it is a form of violence that comes from a deficit of empathy between those who have much and those who have little… [and] sustained by blindness to the full humanity of one another… a pathology of the rich and not just a deficit of the poor."' (Alastair McIntosh, Poverty Truth Commission commissioner)

He cited the philosopher of language Gemma Corradi Fiumara: 'The logos we inhabit is "halved" … we know how to speak but have forgotten how to listen.' Our 'non-listening culture … divides itself into separate discourses, which are free from the desire or obligation to listen to others', and where 'powerful' discourses 'seek to expand [their] territory through the silencing of others' (and defining what counts as 'truth').'

In this context, he suggested, there were two common Christian responses that both fell short. 'The first is the response of charity - of "giving to". It can reduce suffering, it can sometimes save lives. But it treats people as individuals - and it keeps their "problems" individualised too. It doesn't address the causes that keep people in poverty, that keep pushing people to the edges and off the edges.' Here, he cited the Brazilian Archbishop Helder Camara approvingly, 'When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.' A second response, he continued, was advocacy - 'speaking for': public statements, protest, lobbying, organizing and marching in the streets. 'It's concerned with the causes, and not just the symptoms. It's rooted in the prophetic tradition of the Hebrew bible. And yet, as the theologian Joerg Rieger noted, "too many advocates assume that they are somehow above or unaffected by the problem, merely seeking to help others who are less fortunate… the privileged supporting the underprivileged."'

Barrett warned against being seduced by such top-down and elitist approaches: 'Within both charity and advocacy I think we have an imagination of a particular kind of flow going on: from God, through the church, into the world. The church receives something from God to give to those needy outside it. We're sent to serve, to wash feet, to grow the kingdom. We're fed in the eucharist to feed others.'

He pointed to identity crises afflicting today's Church:

'The first is to what Bishop John V Taylor of the Church Mission Society [in his book The Christlike God] called "the power of the provider". We hear language around us in Christian circles around the "golden opportunities" of the state withdrawing, of the invitation to the Church to "fill the gaps". Providing for our neighbours is not a bad thing - but it construes our neighbour as lacking. And it can make us feel good, and useful and valuable, to provide for those who need - and that can be seductive.'

Secondly, he continued, 'The "power of the performer" is one that certainly in my denomination, the Church of England - where all the graphs are going in the wrong direction and the numbers and the money seem to be leeching away - the power of the performer can be tempting. "We must do something! We must demonstrate our impact. People should see what we're doing, and maybe they'll change their minds about us!" It can be seductive, and it construes our neighbour as a spectator to our performance, as a consumer of our product.'

'And lastly, the third temptation is to the "power of the possessor". We hear talk of the importance of the church having "a place at the table", of "the Christian voice being heard", of remembering "the Christian heritage" of our society and "the Christian values" which underly things. And all of that is valid, maybe, but again, it's the seduction of being in charge, of being in control of "our project", "our activity", "our justice movement". And at its worst it construes our neighbour as being the one possessed, controlled.'

At this juncture, Rev Barrett drew upon 'a small but growing number of people who call themselves "critical white theologians": white Christians who are beginning to be conscious of their whiteness and the damage that uncritical whiteness can inflict': "It just so happens that identifying with or as the central agent in the narratives we embody is one of the broken ways of being toward which white people are prone. It just so happens that being inclined to do "for" in postures that are paternalistic is another damaged side-effect of white racialization. And it just so happens that these tendencies are valorized in the social justice Jesus who is the central power-agent in his saga. Social justice Jesus is like a superhero standing up to evil forces around him and attempting to inveigh on behalf of suffering others. And, thus, while it is laudable that he stands with or works on behalf of the marginalized, it, therefore, just so happens that the broken ways of being toward which white people are already inclined are likely to be triggered, maybe even amplified, by identifying with such a figure. ... Simply put, identifying with the divine is about the last thing that a white person whose life is embedded in white-supremacist structures should be doing." (Jennifer Harvey, 'What Would Zacchaeus Do?', 2012)

'I am thankful to Donald Trump for just one thing,' said Rev Barrett, 'That he has highlighted, beyond reasonable doubt, that we live within white supremacist structures; in our society here in the UK as much within the United States.' Referring to Harvey's citation above, he wondered, 'How might these words be if we also translate them into the language of gender? "Simply put, identifying with the divine is about the last thing that a man, whose life is embedded within patriarchal structures should be doing." 'And for good measure - and I can say this, as someone who is white, male and middle-class… "simply put, identifying with the divine is about the last thing that a middle-class Christian, whose life is embedded within unjust economic structures should be doing." 'Do you see where I'm going with this?' he asked.

'I've found it helpful again, in recent times,' Rev Barrett continued, 'to come up against the definition of what I suspect will be used more and more in the next few years as a helpful lens: white fragility. Again, it comes from North America but I think it applies to us too:
"White fragility is a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves. These moves include the outward display of emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and behaviors [sic] such as argumentation, silence, and leaving the stress-inducing situation. These behaviors, in turn, function to reinstate white racial equilibrium." (Robin DiAngelo, 'White Fragility', 2011)

Rev Barrett added: 'I think those of us in the room who are white may well recognise some of those descriptions, as something we don't want to do, but something inside us does automatically. And I think again, we can probably translate quite easily into the language of gender, and the language of class. That defensiveness that those of us who are comfortable with privilege find welling up inside us when challenged.'

Rev Barrett said that, having considered charity and advocacy, he wanted to suggest a third response - one of deep solidarity, as defined by Joerg Rieger: one of 'standing with', 'living with'. "Deep solidarity … describes a situation where the 99% of us who have to work for a living develop some understanding that we are in the same boat. … Deep solidarity not only thrives on differences, it also brings to light otherwise hidden privileges and helps deconstruct them. … as we [develop power by] put[ting] our differences to [productive] use, we begin to realise that those who are forced to endure the greatest pressures might have the most valuable lessons to teach [us]." (Rieger)

'So how do we do it?' asked Rev Barrett. 'I think those of us in positions of multiple privilege need to learn to let go of our "centralness", and move to the edges, perhaps literally, physically. We need to learn to resist those temptations - the power of the provider, the performer, the possessor. We need to learn to embrace real, intimate, mutual relationships, where we become open to challenge, learning and transformation.' Here, his vision anticipated the conclusions of two other key-note speakers at the conference, Sarah Teather of the JRS (see the report on this site), and the theologian David McLoughlin (report to follow). Such transformation could only come about, Rev Barrett argued, by truly learning to listen, in order to gain empathy, and to allow something genuinely new to emerge, generated from those who had been previously marginalised. He noted further, in the words of Jim Perkinson, another critical white theologian, 'we have to be "dis-located", pushed to the edges so that we can learn from others.'

And here he recalled Jesus's encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman: 'At the very edges of his travelling, in the region of Tyre and Sidon, a women challenges him and he says "No" and she will not give up. "Yes, but…" she says. And for her "Yes, but" Jesus is changed and turned around - a metanoia goes on. He heads back home, different. His mission expanded.'

'Later on in Mark's Gospel,' Rev Barrett continued, 'seven chapters after the Syro-Phoenician woman, another unknown woman breaks into the gathering where Jesus is, interrupts the flow of proceedings and pours costly ointment all over Jesus' head. And Jesus receives it as a gift. She, the prophetic stranger, makes him the Messiah, the "anointed one". She, the prophetic stranger, sends him on his journey to the cross.' 'We need to "flip" from seeing Jesus only in our neighbour as the hungry, thirsty, stranger to seeing Jesus in those who come with abundant gifts and abundant challenges to us,' he said, adding that this process might be called 'incarnation': "A way of life constantly sensitized to the presence of God within the human community, a recognition and affirmation of the presence of God in our midst that helps us deliberately orient ourselves to becoming the kind of human community that God wants." (Gillian Ahlgren, The Tenderness of God)

Rev Barrett said: 'I want to introduce you to one last kind of edge. We've seen the cliff edge of precarity. We've seen the edges that people are pushed to through marginalization. I want to introduce you to the ecotone: it names that little stretch of earth between habitats, where immense fertility happens. The vital places where difference meet. We find them in our cities too, but we often don't attend to them. Differences in race and class, of wealth and culture. Our cities are shot through with such edges, but they need tending and attending to.'

'I wonder,' he continued, 'could it ultimately be profoundly unhelpful, in these times of deep fragmentation, to locate Christ on one "side" or the other of our divides? Perhaps we are invited neither to "perform Christ" nor to identify Christ with the neighbours who challenge us most acutely - but to discover Christ as "taking place" in the space of encounter between us and our neighbours. It is Christ who draws us to our neighbours, and it is Christ whom we discover - both creative and unsettling - in the encounters with them. Christ in the "ecotone" - in the edges between us.

'And so,' Rev Barrett continued, 'perhaps we as the church should be concerned less with "expanding the territory" of the body of Christ, and more with "extending the flesh of Jesus" in those "contact-zones", in those edges. Extending those places where we encounter each other across our differences, and discover that God is there.

'I want to finish with some more words of Gillian Ahlgren, resonant with much that Pope Francis has been saying in recent years,' he concluded:

"For [St] Francis and [St] Clare, encounter became an arresting way of life, open to all. In their experience, there was no one whose life would not be deeply enriched by deeper dedication to the way of encounter. Engaging the other with the intention to listen, to learn, and to connect is a mutually transformative practice that slowly changes everything. Encounter teaches us to honour the fragility and sacredness of our own humanity, especially as we come to know our common humanity together. When done in the conscious presence of the love of God, encounter creates sacred space in the human community. Encounter moves us from observers of life to collaborators, with God, in the building up of the human community, the creation of a common home." (Gillian Ahlgren, The Tenderness of God)

Read the text in full here: www.indcatholicnews.com/news/35342

Watch the talk on Youtube: www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kkyXpch4sg&feature=share

Dr Philip Crispin is a Lecturer in Drama at the University of Hull