Peter and Miranda moved to Portugal in 1983 to establish and run A Rocha’s first field study centre. Together with their four children they lived at the centre for twelve years until 1995 when the work was given over to national leadership. They then moved to establish A Rocha France’s first centre near Arles, and lived there until 2010, providing coordination and giving leadership to the rapidly growing global movement. They are now back in the UK from where they work to support the A Rocha family around the world while being closer to their own, and not least their grandchildren. Their story is told in Under the Bright Wings (1993) and Kingfisher’s Fire (2008).
Beyond generosity in both business and personal culture, it would seem that there is one obvious thing that can be done which would give a double benefit. It is simply to resolve to create our wealth, and steward our savings, in ways that join up with our intentions of generosity.
Recently I was staying overnight in a rural cottage and decided to get up for an early walk. It was bitterly cold. The fields were nearly bare; however, the hedgerows and field margins were bursting with life. The richness of life at the margins got me thinking.
I hope to begin a discussion about how we talk about… for now let’s call it ‘caring for creation’. ‘Stewardship’ isn’t a biblical word, and although ‘creation care’ is now generally accepted, like all terms, it has its limitations. Could we start a debate about how we can best describe our task and be intentional about our language?
It was extraordinary to be in Paris during the COP negotiations. So, now the dust has settled, the marquees are dismantled, and the circus has left town, what are we to make of the COP21 Agreement, and where do we go from here?
Two very different angles on one very huge problem. At COP21, the pressure’s on us. We have to save ourselves. We are the heroes and the villains, the culprits and the solution. Imagine what our world leaders must feel, with the weight of the globe on their shoulders. Can they hold the oceans back?
Climate change seems to polarize Christians. Why? Why do some believe it is a satanic plot whilst others see it as a crucial moral issue? Why do so many more simply ignore it as irrelevant to their faith and daily lives? In the end it’s about theology.
‘So, how’s the commune?’, the man asks. I answer, ‘It’s great, but it’s not a commune. It’s a community.’ He laughs. ‘Can’t fool me. Lots of people. Organic gardens. Shared living spaces. Sauna. You’re a commune.’ We’re not! I want to protest. And then I wonder, Why am I feeling so defensive?
Last summer, events conspired to give me three totally different experiences: Week 1 at a Christian festival, part of Week 2 with my family at Disneyland Paris, and Week 3 at the Taizé Community in France. The question I found myself asking was, ‘What is the spirituality of this gathering? What are its “gods” – its underlying, unwritten values and assumptions about what really matters?’
Everything you see (and don’t see) is in relationship with something else. There is not a single thing in this world that is not linked to something else. Our whole world is permeated with ecosystems: thousands and thousands of them, interlinking and weaving in and out of each other. And I suddenly thought, ‘A-ha, of course!’
On 25 September 2015, 193 nations gathered at the UN in New York to launch 17 new Sustainable Development Goals. I want to suggest some pointers as Christian organizations and individuals engage with this important process.
