Hurts Healed

"…be transformed (changed) by the [entire] renewal of your mind [by its new ideals and its new attitude], so that you may prove [for yourselves] what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God…"

Romans 12:2 (Ampl.)

Today was a historic moment for the Church of England. Ugandan born Dr John Sentamu was inaugurated as the 97th Archbishop of York, the second most senior cleric in Anglicanism, in a ceremony that reflected his black roots. Colourfully dressed, with African dance and drumming, interwoven with high Anglican protocol, the event was witnessed by a large multicultural congregation. In an earlier newspaper interview, he spoke of the continuous stream of hate mail and racist threats, during his life within the Church. Nevertheless he felt British society was fundamentally tolerant and was "trying desperately hard to be a loving inclusive society". Perhaps his most controversial opinion was included in today’s inaugural address. According to television broadcasts and online news updates, the enthroned Archbishop of York "launched a forceful attack on multiculturalism which, he argued, has denied English people the right to celebrate their national identity’ and ‘warned that England would experience further political extremism if it failed to reconnect with its roots". Coming so soon after recent heated debates on race, racism, cultural and national identity, his remarks will inevitably generate further polarised debate.

I am English Jamaican (with or without hyphen, I’m not fussy). In 1993, under the Jamaica Constitution and the Jamaican Nationality Act, 1962, I was registered as a citizen of Jamaica. Having lost my right to inherit my father’s nationality, with my eighteenth birthday, I reclaimed my citizenship through residency and have a Certificate of Nationality and blue passport as proof. Prior to this, fellow Jamaicans called me ‘English’ – which I accepted quite happily, in Jamaica. In the U.K. my identity label moved from British (when I was ten) to Anglo-Jamaican of Afro-Caribbean descent (in my teens) to just "black" as a signifier when I became more politically aware, in my later years. My time in Jamaica was invaluable in confirming my identity and in providing cultural groundings; without which, I would not be as rooted as I am today. Therefore in light of Sentamu’s criticism that Englishness is not celebrated, I respond as someone born and raised in this country and of mixed parentage.

Sitting upstairs, at the back of a bus in Birmingham, last Saturday night, I had no choice but to listen to three young white teenagers talking to two black youngsters about the issues of interracial relationships. Their main point being that mixed race children, do not know where they belong and may not belong anywhere. I kept out of the conversation (being the only such person in ear shot) and wondered why I felt their discussion was dated, belonging to the 60s and 70s. It made me wonder how mixed race children find a sense of identity in 21 st century Britain, if these attitudes are still prevalent, particularly among the young.

Perhaps the most recent, singular experience that reinforced my connectedness to my English roots, happened in Boston, Massachusetts on 17th June, 2004. It was my Dad’s birthday and I was attending the MCC Clergy Intensives Course at the Episcopal Divinity School. We were on a field trip to Salem. I had been apprehensive for some time prior, as I noticed the proposed visit in the course outline and on the required reading list, a historical book on witchcraft in Colonial New England. My mother had been seriously traumatised by the family’s connection to the infamous Witches of Pendle in Lancashire, where several family members were hanged in 1612. Her life was made a misery; partly through this family history, her parent’s fear that she would be seen as a witch and through her having me, a mixed race child.

I remember standing at the memorial in Salem. The marble monument was a simple rectangular block on which rested a lectern with an open Bible, with the words "Book of Life"– the inscription on the side, facing the rows of names of those murdered, was this ‘In memory of those innocents who died during the Salem Village witchcraft hysteria of 1692’. On either side of the lectern were shackles. I knew that my father’s ancestors were shipped and sold into slavery in shackles but it had never occurred to me that my mother’s ancestors had shared a similar fate – shackled in irons on the way to their execution on the gallows. It was a cathartic moment. In feeling my mother’s inherited and life long suffering, I was able to connect to a side of me that I had under-appreciated through lack of knowledge. Through this experience I was able to understand more fully, the double shackles of racism and religious bigotry, that had so blighted the lives of my parents and my upbringing. I felt liberated and affirmed in my rootedness in England and next summer I will make my first trip to Pendle Hill in Lancashire and trace the steps of my ancestors.

Our spiritual walk with God is practical; it enables us to confront our inner fears and to be transformed, from what may be life-damaging experiences. We can trust God for help in understanding ourselves, working through our traumas and anxieties and moving on towards a better understanding of ourselves and a better life.

"Lean on, trust in, and be confident in the Lord with all your heart and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding. In all your ways know, recognise, and acknowledge Him, and He will direct and make straight and plain your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; reverently fear and worship the Lord….It shall be health to your nerves and sinews, and marrow and moistening to your bones" - Proverbs 3:5-8 (Ampl.)

May the Holy Spirit of God, equip you with the necessary insights, to see your worse moments, in a healing light.

God is more than able.

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