This Heatwave: what is it telling us?

Up here in Northumberland, we can't really speak about a heatwave, not in the way Londoners can. Cooled by the North Sea, we don't get highs much above 25 degrees. Often enough, while the rest of the nation swelters under blue skies, ours are obscured by the sea fret or haar driven inland by cool easterly winds.

But the continuing dryness is another matter. (Let's not call it a drought as it isn't officially that just yet.) On Friday we had some rain, welcome relief to gardeners and farmers alike. The lawn turned miraculously green again. But this morning the river gauge in the South Tyne has dropped back to 22 centimetres, only just above where it has stood for much of this month. As you can see from the photo, the river is now easily fordable in the village. Locals are saying that they can't recall when it was so low for so long. Normally a vigorous upland river, the Tyne is a shadow of its normal self.

In an article in today's Observer, Robin McKie cites examples from around the Northern Hemisphere of how the ferocious heat being experienced across the world is having alarming consequences. Wildfires, crop damage and human mortality are already having devastating effects. A couple of weeks ago I stood on a nearby Northumberland vantage point and watched smoke rising in the distance. Stray ordnance from the MOD ranges had set fire to the moor and while contained by fire-fighters, it was to burn for many more days yet.

Why is this happening? The immediate cause appears to be a weak jet-stream which results in the stagnation of calm high pressure areas that generate hot sunny conditions. That phenomenon in turn needs explaining of course. One abnormally dry summer does not by itself "prove" global warming. McKie is careful not to draw easy conclusions about climate change. The earth's weather systems are extraordinarily complex and are not perfectly understood. But he quotes a climate change scientist as agreeing that "it is hard not to believe that climate change has to be playing a part in what is going on round the globe at present".

This is all wearyingly familiar stuff. The consensus among climate scientists is overwhelming that our planet faces damaging and irreversible change if we don't hold the global temperature rise this century to 2 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. International agreements to limit carbon emissions have been hard-won, but are still not enough to reverse the trend. It's questionable whether the 2 degree threshold can hold without a step-change in the collective will to achieve it. It's evidently not at the top of all political leaders' agenda. Much easier to address short-term challenges than to think beyond the lifetimes of their own generation. They will most likely all be dead before the worst effects of global warming begin to kick in. Après moi le déluge.

Or rather, après moi la canicule, to invoke that colourful French word for the kind of scorching "dog-day" heatwave we had in 2003 when thousands of people died across Europe. The question is, how do we turn these apocalyptic but distant worries into concerns of the immediate present where there is some chance that they could spur us on to devise better futures that would save the planet?

George Monbiot has been telling us for ages that one key to it (not the only one, of course) would be drastically to reduce our dependence on meat and dairy products. "While some kinds of meat and dairy production are more damaging than others, all are more harmful to the living world than growing plant protein. It shows that animal farming takes up 83% of the world’s agricultural land, but delivers only 18% of our calories. A plant-based diet cuts the use of land by 76% and halves the greenhouse gases and other pollution that are caused by food production." I find his arguments persuasive. It's not a question (I think - though some might disagree) of becoming vegetarian or vegan by conviction. I don't happen to be vegetarian, though I do eat a lot of vegetarian food because I find it enjoyable and healthy. No, I believe it's simply a matter of rebalancing our diet in the interests of the planet, its peoples and the living creatures for whom it is home. If we all took his advice, even in small ways, what a difference it would make.

It puzzles me that when I stay in hotels, I see notices in bathrooms about re-using towels for the sake of the environment. But I've yet to see signs about turning off the lights when we go out, or using public transport instead of our cars, still less about not choosing meat from the restaurant menu! It seems to be a symptom of our selective attitudes to environmental sustainability. I'm no better than the next person - let anyone without sin cast the first stone.

But I am saying that we need leadership here. Climate change ought to be at the top of every party agenda, not just that of the Greens. Strong, committed political leadership, not simply through word but (especially) by example is seriously needed and would do a lot to prise us out of our lack of urgency. And if Monbiot is right, shouldn't our churches also be debating not only how to reduce our carbon footprints but the ethics of excessive meat and dairy consumption in pursuit of more sustainable ways of living? Shouldn't the changes Brexit will make to agricultural subsidies be an opportunity for a public conversation about what we look for from the farming community on whom we depend for so much? The campaigns against CFCs, plastics and fossil fuels have shown how, when we act together, a multitude of small choices can add up to a critical mass of decisive action that leads to change. The key is greater awareness. Churches and other voluntary communities, alongside statutory agencies and the private sector, can make a big difference if they choose to. 

For us in the UK, this long hot summer is something to enjoy. But ask the farmers and they will tell you a different story. Take a look at your rivers and reservoirs. Read the international pages of your newspaper to see how serious the situation is becoming in other parts of the world. Listen to the climate scientists. Pay attention to your own conscience. We must not fail our grandchildren and their children by failing to read the signs of the times. 

The Churches and the EU Referendum

So now we know what the Prime Minister wants from Europe. His letter to the European Council contains no great surprises. But it left me feeling despondent. Our continent is facing a huge crisis as thousands of migrants arrive helpless on our southern shores. There is no consensus about how best to respond to them. For one nation to thrust its wish list into the foreground at a time like this seems self-serving and not at all in the best tradition of British-ness. I'm sorry - and a little ashamed if I'm honest.

Let me come clean. I believe that our future as a nation has to lie in the European Union. I admit that my own personal history comes into it, and with it, a strong emotional pull towards 'the continent'. My mother's side of the family comes from Germany. Being Jewish, they suffered terribly in the Nazi holocaust. Some perished; others were fortunate enough to survive in hiding or flee to this country for safety. My mother was one of those. I've blogged about it before.

That's no argument of course. But personal identity comes into things. I had to fill in a questionnaire the other day to register with the GP in our new home. How did I describe myself, it asked? The only applicable box said 'White British'. No denying that it's what I am. So I ticked it. But it's not all I wanted to say about myself. So I added: '/European'. My Twitter profile says that I am 'a European at home in North East England.' That's closer to who I am. I belong to the North East. I belong to England. I belong to the United Kingdom. I belong to Europe. But even that isn't all. I belong to a particular family now living in a particular village. At the other end of the scale I belong to the entire world and to the family of humanity. I love all these circles of belonging and want to be loyal to them all. I want to be a citizen, and participate in the life, of each of them. Our many identities matter, from the least to the greatest.

You don't need me to rehearse the arguments for Britain's membership of the EU. When it comes to the economy, trade, politics, higher education, science, security, social care and culture, scores of people who know what is what are doing this expertly and persuasively. That's not to say that the EU is a perfect organisation. The PM is right about the needs for reform and reducing the burden of bureaucracy. Yet despite its shortcomings, the evidence is that our participation in the EU has benefitted us enormously. And, it's important to say, it has benefitted the EU too. No wonder the family of European nations, let alone America and China, view the possibility of Brexit with alarm. So should we.

Does the 'idea of Europe' have a theological and spiritual aspect? I believe it has. For one thing, Christianity, like Judaism, Islam and every other world faith, transcends the nation state. Religion says: our 'belonging' is vastly bigger than just our national identity. To think in purely national terms about humanity is severely to limit our vision. So communities of peoples like the EU point to a future that is collaborative, where acting together can effect positive change that puts a nation's self-interest in the larger context of the common good, as catholic social thought has made increasingly clear. The UK is itself evidence that as peoples we are always 'better together' than apart. To develop partnerships and synergies is, I think, a collective expression of the biblical principle that 'it is not good for man to be alone'.

In the intensively connected world of the 21st century, no nation state can function as if it were autonomous. National jurisdictions are subject to a vast number of external pressures, some benign, some not. Financial markets, transnational enterprise and digital information all flow freely around the globe: national boundaries just do not feature. Climate change, human trafficking and global terrorism pay no regard to them: addressing them will be done together or not at all. This is where Europe, along with other big alliances, helps to act as the glue to bind peoples together. We need more of this sense of being part of many families of nations, not less. To aspire to be 'an ever closer union of peoples' is a noble vision about the future of the human race itself. In it may lie the survival of humanity. For me, the burden or proof lies with those who would leave the EU, not those of us who want to stay in and deepen our ties with the continent of which we are historically a part.

I could say much more and perhaps will in future blogs about Europe. But even if you don't agree with my stance thus far, I hope you will be able to assent to what follows. The PM has said that the referendum in 2016 or 2017 could be the most important decision we British will ever make in our lifetimes. What should be the role of the churches in this?

First, the churches should help set the agenda for the debate. John F Kennedy might have said that the Christian way to frame the question is to ask not what our continent can do for us so much as what we can do for it. This altruistic note runs wholly counter to the way the leadership are trying to motivate us one way or the other. I find this deeply worrying. In the nation's life, just as in personal life, it's always true that 'it is more blessed to give than to receive'. Social theology can help frame the debate so that the vision of the common good is not lost, especially when it comes to peace and justice in the world, our response to the voiceless and the poor, and how we address the degrading of the environment and its effect on our climate. What will merely sustain us in our lifestyles or confirm our island presumptions ought not to be at the top of the agenda. It's not for the churches to tell us how to vote. But by offering intelligent and wise commentary on the issues, and helping to interpret their theological and spiritual significance, they can help us vote in a better informed way. And, what matters most, to vote as citizens of God's kingdom and not merely citizens of this earthly kingdom of the UK.

Second, the churches should help set the tone of the debate. By that I mean that they should demonstrate the importance of courtesy, of rigorous intelligent argument, and most of all perhaps, of listening attentively to things we may passionately dissent from. All this goes into making sure that differences of view will be, in a favourite phrase of the Archbishop of Canterbury, 'good disagreement'. The churches in Scotland played this role in the run-up to and aftermath of the Scottish independence referendum in 2014. It was appreciated. But they were only able to do this because they had participated publicly in the debate themselves, and modelled how to do it in an adult and considered way. I hope that all the churches in Britain will emulate their example. 

Betjeman's C of E: an elegy to a lost world

We've enjoyed an hour of nostalgia watching a TV documentary by John Betjeman called A Passion for Churches.

Made in 1974, it's an affectionate portrait of the life of the Church of England in Norfolk. There is no county in England richer in beautiful historic churches. Whether they were great or small, urban or rural, famous or obscure, Betjeman loved these buildings. He often wrote about the church's architecture, arts and crafts. Church visitors are indebted to his comprehensive county by county gazetteer of English parish churches. To lovers of our built heritage, he is a hero.

I look back to 1974 as the year I came of age. Late in time, you may say, for someone born in 1950. But in that year I left college, got married and rented a first home. I was ordained less than twelve months later, so it was a year of milestones. Now that I have (just) passed another of life's thresholds, retirement, I'm keenly aware of how significant the rites of passage were that launched my grown-up working life. So this documentary about life as we lived it in the 1970s has recalled things I only half remembered, and reminded me how far we have travelled in the past forty years.

If you'd asked me earlier what church life in that era was like, I'd have said in a lazy way: much like today, only a lot more confident. However Betjeman's film makes it clear that it was, in fact, very different, another country where they do things differently. This is not because of JB's native melancholy, the elegiac register he falls into as he contemplates lost worlds in immaculate poetic prose. The evidence speaks for itself. You watch parish life in full flow. Churches are respectably full. The clergy still have their fair share of 'characters' and eccentrics. Many of them live in large historic vicarages fit for squires. Surpliced choristers sing Prayer Book evensong in remote country parishes. Sunday schools are bulging, even when they meet on a Wednesday. Clergy wear robes de rigeur. Men wear jackets and ties to go to church, and ladies wear hats, at least in comfortably-off Norfolk, as they sing from Hymns Ancient and Modern or, if they are high church, The English Hymnal.

True, there is Series 3 by now, and the Bible is read from the RSV or even New English, and the parish communion is replacing sung matins. The 'bombazine and bonnets of the Sunday morning congregation' is not the flamboyant fashion show it was a generation before. There is a genuine and well-intended attempt to popularise: Youth Praise has made an entrance, as has the Twentieth Century Church Light Music Group (who can forget the frantic rush of words to O Jesus I have promised or that heady slide down a seventh at the end of Living Lord, still sung today?). But worship songs are yet to come, as are mission action plans, fresh expressions, messy church, the decline in clergy numbers, female priests and bishops, alternative episcopal oversight and much else.

It's startling to look back and realise that like steam engines (also beloved by JB), the lost world of the C of E in 1974 belongs to my own life time. I guess that's down to my reluctance to accept that I'm getting old enough to have bridged different eras. After all, what I have lived through can't be that distant, can it? So why did I begin this blog by talking about nostalgia? That word, literally, means an aching for the past, but I'm not sure that was quite what I felt as I watched this delightful film. It's more to do with our attachment to our own memories. The older we get, the more important memory becomes. We invest in memory because it is so bound up with our own personal identity. That's where the 'ache' lies, because our memories are always receding from us and that means loss and even sadness.

So, forty years on, what have been the gains and losses in the life of the church? Here are some plusses. (One commentator thinks I'm being too cheery about these but judge for yourself.) In some ways, the church as an institution is probably in better shape even if it is considerably leaner. The tasks of mission are more intelligently contextualised and understood, and embodied in more versatile ways. The commitment to social justice is far more consistent and explicit (and publicly recognised). The role of 'public faith' is more clearly articulated. The leadership is better trained in strategic and policy matters and the church's processes are more transparent and accountable as a result, not least in what it is learning from the terrible failures in safeguarding in the past. Church buildings, in Norfolk among other places, are being opened up to a wide diversity of community uses alongside worship.

What about the minuses? I worry that the C of E is less comprehensive than it used to be, more uniform and less tolerant of diversity. It is perhaps more fractious and defensive. I worry that the founding vision of the cure of souls of 'the parish' is being narrowed to little more than chaplaincy to committed congregations. I worry that serious biblical study and theology are less practised than they should be, not least by a relentlessly busy hierarchy. I worry that because language shapes thought, marketing and management speak are at risk of eroding theological, pastoral, spiritual and mission-orientated ways of thinking and acting. I worry about the unspoken pressure to 'succeed', and the risk this poses to the spiritual, emotional and physical health of clergy. I worry about the decline of an institutional sense of irony. I worry about whether the church really believes it exists to promote a truly Christian wisdom to our world rather than just survive.

Better minds than mine have charted the immense cultural shifts that have taken place in the time I have been ordained. There is a lot to welcome, even if we may regret at the loss of what seemed like the more innocent, less baffling world of our youth. I guess this is as much about growing up and learning to embrace complexity as it is about the external environment. When we have lived long enough to be bewildered, or to suffer, or to know for ourselves the power of fear, loss and shame, life will never again be easy or straightforward.

I blush to think how little I knew of these things in the 1970s when I climbed up into the pulpit for the first time and cut my teeth as an interpreter of the Christian gospel. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't go back to 1974. Neither, I'm sure, would the Church of England. Living in the present can feel like an ambiguous gift at times, but a gift is precisely what it is. And the more we seize the day, the better able we are to see the past for what it is, and learn to put away those rose-tinted spectacles in order to understand its ambiguities, learn from its failures, but also, in the spirit of eucharistia, to be thankful for all the benefits it has bequeathed to us.

You can find John Betjeman's film on the BBC1 website. You will love it, I promise!