A fisherman and A Rocha
This summer, after 10 years as an international trustee, I retired from the board of A Rocha. How is it that the son of an immigrant fisherman from Japan came to be involved with creation care?
This summer, after 10 years as an international trustee, I retired from the board of A Rocha. How is it that the son of an immigrant fisherman from Japan came to be involved with creation care?
Our family has been living abroad for the past 21 years and relocated to Florida – the week before Hurricane Irma hit. In a way, bad timing. However, it was good to go through this experience living with family.
A week or two on Bardsey may teach me some important things, but the challenge is how I live out what I learn in my everyday life.
Some would say that Debbie’s transformation and impact aren’t the stuff of ‘planet-saving’ but at A Rocha we think they most certainly are.
‘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?
Taking care of creation is sometimes more than mere words and issues. For some, it is a matter of life and death. Such was the case for Honduran preacher and community leader José Matilde Bonilla.
I have just returned from visiting the remarkable A Rocha Ghana team, and they took us to two world-famous and entirely different sites in one afternoon: the Kakum Forest with its canopy walkway, and the slaving fort at nearby Cape Coast.
My mother-in law wears a bikini. She is seventy years old and decades of gravity have done their work. But she wears a bikini nonetheless, with a devil-may-care nonchalance to what others her age are more inclined to cover in sarongs, ruffles and cruise-wear. She’s my hero.
I have a small, determined grandson. He can insert an astonishing number of vowels into the word NO. Whether in two-year olds or adults, strong differences of opinion may need to pass through several stages before a degree of cooperation is reached − mutual listening, clear communication, appropriate compromise, and peace-making − which in his case means a cuddle.
Community is a complicated word. Like one of those huge lorries that thunders past on the motorway, it isn’t always obvious what’s in it. It’s an emotive term which may awaken longing, panic, or just mild curiosity. Why is it so important? And why was John Stott so good at it on so many different levels?