CONVICTION
They were both early for that Presbytery committee meeting
and there was nothing for it but to engage in some conversation.
Alan had just completed a hard day at school and last night’s
Federal budget speech had him feeling ready for a fight. “Bloody
conservative government, rattling on about families and justice and
ignoring the growing gap between the haves and the have-nots,” he
had been mumbling to himself as he trudged up the old and well-
worn stairs of the Presbytery office building. “ Why can’t people see
what’s happening to our society, why can’t we take seriously Jesus’
teaching about loving one another and caring for those on the edge? ”
Nigel, who was standing by the window, gazing out over the
afternoon fog, turned to greet him. Alan had met Nigel briefly
only last month and had already summed him up. In Nigel, Alan
saw a contented, wealthy, private school–educated snob. His
cultured accent, elegant clothes and smooth style were an affront to
all that Alan had decided was important in the world. “That’s what’s
wrong with this church,” he thought, “full of self-satisfied wealthy
passengers who haven’t a clue about the real world.”
“Hello, Alan,” began Nigel in a friendly tone, “have you had
a good day?”
Alan, interpreting the question as patronising and feeling
ready for a fight, plunged in.
“Not really,” he replied. “Six periods teaching, duty at lunch
time and three kids in detention after school for swearing at a young
teacher. A typical Friday, I guess, and I don’t see our government
caring two hoots about the problems in high schools. And the
trouble is our church is so busy supporting its precious schools that
it couldn’t care less about the state system.” And then, going on
with a full head of steam, he added, “But I guess you sent your kids
to the Grammar School. So you wouldn’t know much about this sort
of thing.”
“Well, I am a bit out of touch,” Nigel responded, “ because
we had to send our three off to boarding school. The farm was too
far from the nearest high school for them to commute. And that’s a
while ago now. Makes me feel pretty old when I think about it, having three kids in their twenties.”
“What are they doing now?” asked Alan, expecting to hear
that they were successful stockbrokers or lawyers or whatever. If he
had been honest with himself, he was rather hoping this would be
the case, not out of a generous spirit but because it would just
confirm his convictions about the unfairness of the system and it
would give him a chance to tell of his own son’s failure to find
work since leaving the local high school.
“Well,” Nigel responded, “ Paul is up in the Territory
jackerooing for a couple of years, Robert is starting an appreticeship
and Jane is living in assisted accommodation in town trying to
cope with her bipolar illness. It hit her in second year at Uni and it’s
been a rotten time for us all. We’ve spent lots of time blaming
ourselves, wondering what we did wrong. Life’s not simple, is it?”
There was no time to go on because at this point they were
interrupted by the arrival of other committee members and it was
time to get started on the meeting. It was a special meeting, called to
help the Social Question Committee confront the morality of the war
in Iraq, and there was a hush of expectation as they all pulled in
their chairs and waited for the Chair to open the meeting.
Alan glanced around the table. “I guess I’ll be fighting a losing
battle,” he mused. “Farmers, ex-servicemen, a couple of local
business men, some well-meaning middle-aged women and those
three fundamentalist clergy from the city. They’re bound to be
supporters of this rotten war. How come they’re so blinkered and out of touch?”
“Before we start our discussion,” said the Chair, “I have a
verse to read to you from St.Luke’s gospel. It’s an introduction to
the parable of the tax gatherer and the Pharisee. Let us listen for a
word from God for us at this time: Luke, Chapter 18 and verse 9.
Alan liked the Chair, and approved of her approach to ethics
and justice, so he settled back in his seat thinking, “I bet she’s
chosen a reading to stir these others up.”
Picking up her New Testament, and turning slowly to the
gospel of Luke, the Chair read
“And he spoke this parable unto those who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and who despised others.”
Mac Nicoll
5/06/2004
and there was nothing for it but to engage in some conversation.
Alan had just completed a hard day at school and last night’s
Federal budget speech had him feeling ready for a fight. “Bloody
conservative government, rattling on about families and justice and
ignoring the growing gap between the haves and the have-nots,” he
had been mumbling to himself as he trudged up the old and well-
worn stairs of the Presbytery office building. “ Why can’t people see
what’s happening to our society, why can’t we take seriously Jesus’
teaching about loving one another and caring for those on the edge? ”
Nigel, who was standing by the window, gazing out over the
afternoon fog, turned to greet him. Alan had met Nigel briefly
only last month and had already summed him up. In Nigel, Alan
saw a contented, wealthy, private school–educated snob. His
cultured accent, elegant clothes and smooth style were an affront to
all that Alan had decided was important in the world. “That’s what’s
wrong with this church,” he thought, “full of self-satisfied wealthy
passengers who haven’t a clue about the real world.”
“Hello, Alan,” began Nigel in a friendly tone, “have you had
a good day?”
Alan, interpreting the question as patronising and feeling
ready for a fight, plunged in.
“Not really,” he replied. “Six periods teaching, duty at lunch
time and three kids in detention after school for swearing at a young
teacher. A typical Friday, I guess, and I don’t see our government
caring two hoots about the problems in high schools. And the
trouble is our church is so busy supporting its precious schools that
it couldn’t care less about the state system.” And then, going on
with a full head of steam, he added, “But I guess you sent your kids
to the Grammar School. So you wouldn’t know much about this sort
of thing.”
“Well, I am a bit out of touch,” Nigel responded, “ because
we had to send our three off to boarding school. The farm was too
far from the nearest high school for them to commute. And that’s a
while ago now. Makes me feel pretty old when I think about it, having three kids in their twenties.”
“What are they doing now?” asked Alan, expecting to hear
that they were successful stockbrokers or lawyers or whatever. If he
had been honest with himself, he was rather hoping this would be
the case, not out of a generous spirit but because it would just
confirm his convictions about the unfairness of the system and it
would give him a chance to tell of his own son’s failure to find
work since leaving the local high school.
“Well,” Nigel responded, “ Paul is up in the Territory
jackerooing for a couple of years, Robert is starting an appreticeship
and Jane is living in assisted accommodation in town trying to
cope with her bipolar illness. It hit her in second year at Uni and it’s
been a rotten time for us all. We’ve spent lots of time blaming
ourselves, wondering what we did wrong. Life’s not simple, is it?”
There was no time to go on because at this point they were
interrupted by the arrival of other committee members and it was
time to get started on the meeting. It was a special meeting, called to
help the Social Question Committee confront the morality of the war
in Iraq, and there was a hush of expectation as they all pulled in
their chairs and waited for the Chair to open the meeting.
Alan glanced around the table. “I guess I’ll be fighting a losing
battle,” he mused. “Farmers, ex-servicemen, a couple of local
business men, some well-meaning middle-aged women and those
three fundamentalist clergy from the city. They’re bound to be
supporters of this rotten war. How come they’re so blinkered and out of touch?”
“Before we start our discussion,” said the Chair, “I have a
verse to read to you from St.Luke’s gospel. It’s an introduction to
the parable of the tax gatherer and the Pharisee. Let us listen for a
word from God for us at this time: Luke, Chapter 18 and verse 9.
Alan liked the Chair, and approved of her approach to ethics
and justice, so he settled back in his seat thinking, “I bet she’s
chosen a reading to stir these others up.”
Picking up her New Testament, and turning slowly to the
gospel of Luke, the Chair read
“And he spoke this parable unto those who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and who despised others.”
Mac Nicoll
5/06/2004
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