Guest post: Richard Higginson

Each month in our church newsletter, we invite the congregation, staff or community members to write an opinion piece. This month's piece was written by my coworker, Richard, who talked to members of Tiger's Bay (where we do much of our outreach) about their opinions of cultural displays in their community. I thought it would be an interesting perspective to include here - so I got his permission to repost for your reading pleasure!

I Hear Voices
Richard Higginson

Voices over the proposed peace wall amendments at Duncairn:

How would you like it if you looked out of your window everyday through a 30ft height barred fence - do people want to keep living in prisons?

There'll be no walls coming down here. No one's come and talked to us for starters. If you lived up against the interface, would you feel safe when / if it was removed? Of course you wouldn't. They'll be stoning your windees and petrol bombing you just like before. Nothing has changed. This community will not be ready for another 30 or 40 years.


Voices over "shared space" 
Shared Space is totally one-sided. Why is it always us that has to share? Where isn't there shared space in Republican areas like the New Lodge? Enough is enough. We're not giving up any more ground. Shared space is nothing more than a Nationalist/Republican strategy to take over our land.

Shared space must be totally neutral - cultural symbols, flags, or traditions must not be practiced in such a place.

Voices over kerbstone painting and bonfire

Look at what they done! It’s all around the community centre and the doctor’s surgery too. There's catholics goes there you know. What are they going to think now?

They say they want more housing. How are they going to get more housing when they've made the place look like a dump! 

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Maybe we're sick and tired of hearing these voices? Maybe we're hearing them for the first time? Maybe I'm reflecting your voice in these reflections? Hearing voices thrusts us into the chaos and complexity around the issues held dear by the people around us. If we dare to ask the questions, and if we care to listen, we might regret it when we experience the discharge of raw, pent-up emotion. Nevertheless, when we open up channels of communication in this way, we help each other to become conscious of their own opinion, and often our own opinion becomes clear. This is the first step. The next is to not only become conscious of what others think, but to receive it - like a gift, however unwelcome it may feel. That’s not easy to do.

When we begin to receive a number of different opinions as well as our own, our tendency to rush to solutions becomes halted by an appreciation of complexity. For example: How can communities like Tigers Bay generate a demand for housing when its appearance can be viewed as uninviting, hostile or intimidating? How can the celebration of national/cultural identity or remembrance of the past in N.Ireland be accepted without perceived threat or triumphalism? What degree of community safety and confidence is required to broker breaches in peace walls? Or are these things ever elusive for traumatised societies like Inner North Belfast?

So why bother in the first place?

Maybe we feel a sense of obligation? - that's what Christians ought to do. Maybe we can't get away from it despite want of trying? But maybe it’s because the Son is rising in our hearts? - the Creator and Sustainer of all things, (Col 1:16-17) the One who has reconciled all things to himself, (Col 1:20) destroying the dividing wall of hostility (Eph 2:14). The One who has become our Peace, and the One who entrusts us with the ministry of peace through the power of the Son (Matt 5:9, 2Cor 5:18-21). If this is our chosen reality, by faith, then there is great hope in the midst of hopelessness. Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed, and so he became the father of many nations... (Rom 4:18) Because the love of God has the final word, no one is a write off! Everyone is included in the journey of learning to see ourselves and each other as God the Father sees us. May the eternal life that God has given us in the unity of the Son be unveiled to us as we turn our hearts towards His face.

Richard Higginson has been the Bricks to Bridges Project Development Worker at Fortwilliam and Macrory Presbyterian Church since January 2011. He works as a self-employed Community Relations Consultant following the completion of a Masters degree in Conflict Transformation through the Centre for Justice & Peacebuilding at Eastern Mennonite University, Virginia, USA.

Richard currently lives in North Belfast with his wife and two children.

Special blog post, Momma-style!

As promised, I've asked my mom to give a bit of reflection on her whirlwind tour of Belfast (and most of the UK). So without further ado:


It’s rather unnerving to do a guest blog; Tricia does what I consider a fabulous job with her entries. She did warn me about this request but it just gave me more time to fret about it. Well, here goes:

Thursday: Being busy doesn't even touch on what Tricia had in store for my visit. After the bus ride home from the airport we got our first sign of how friendly Belfast can be. With only 2 blocks to go, Robert insisted on giving us a lift. As Tricia said, people are so friendly here you learn to just graciously accept these kind offers. We crock-potted dinner and were on our way for one of my few opportunities to see Tricia active in one of her normal weekly-duties—Lunch with the Pensioners. Julia prepared a traditional Belfast feast and everyone that works at the Vine had nothing but good to say not only about Tricia but also her work there. We went on the see so much of the city that Tricia has been calling home this year, (or she was keeping me on my feet so I wouldn't fall asleep). The Maundy Thursday service was beautiful and gave me the opportunity to meet some of the people who have helped Tricia feel welcome in this foreign country. Going out after the service with friends and fellow YAVs was very comforting and gave me peace. The plan for new YAVs on their first night in Belfast is to stay awake until at least 9:00 P.M. But no, normal bedtime back home for me is 9:00 PM, add those 4 hours for Belfast time, equals 1:00 AM in Belfast. We only made midnight, but still a very long 38 hours. Glad I squeezed in that 1 ¼ hours of sleep on the flight over.

Meeting David and Anna on Thursday

Friday: After a traditional Ulster breakfast we trekked to Belfast Castle. The castle wasn't the main attraction but the several-hour hike up to Napoleon’s nose in the snow, ice and cold was the naz. Fellow YAV David included us in his weekly hike, and was a wonderful guide—patient and tolerant of Tricia and my less than perfect skills and a Florida mom who had never frolicked in snow. We got home in time to change for the Good Friday service and my opportunity to get to know Lesley, the pastor at Tricia’s church, and to meet others who have helped Tricia feel welcome in Belfast. It was nice to see Tricia involved with the service. The evening outing gave me a chance to meet TJ, the final North Belfast YAV. Things closed early for Good Friday so we got to bed before midnight.

Our view from "Napoleon's Nose"

Saturday: Tricia has made the trip to Giant’s Causeway with friends from the congregation before but we got the full-day tour with many sights of this lovely country both along the way and on the return to Belfast. Upon our return we headed back to Belfast Castle, now the main attraction. It was odd hiking up the hill in the cold and dark to get to the castle, but was so worth it to see all the Northern Belfast YAVs as a group. The friendship they share is priceless. The support and camaraderie they have towards one another is invaluable.

Photo op with the Giant's Causeway in the background

Sunday: Easter Sunday was a peaceful morning, not having to get out of the house until 10:00. Maybe not as calm for Tricia with every alarm in the house set to make sure she didn't miss the time change. (What devices automatically change time, which don’t?) The service was lovely and I got to see Tricia in another phase of her work: keeping the service and all of its digital aspects in sync; a nice presentation of Tricia’s work with The Youth Club was included. After the service there was a chance to meet others in the congregation. Stewart who complimented Tricia’s help with The Boys' Brigade, and several young couples who love Tricia and value her relationship with their “tots”. After church we went to the City Centre. More was closed than expected on Easter Sunday so we missed St. George’s Market and our falafel, but this just allowed us to eat at Nando's, one of Tricia’s favorites. Easter and the time change combined had us miss our tour of Belfast but Tricia came through once again. We got a very special, first-hand tour of the murals in Belfast and the Peace Wall, the biggest attractions of the Belfast tour, from TJ, who does much of his YAV work in this area.

Monday: Well this brings us to the 7:00 arrival at the International Airport for our flight to Newcastle for our “whistle-stop tour” that Tricia mentioned in her blog. She makes it seem like a simple tour but seeing how my first 4 days went, I’m sure you can imagine the “tour” of Great Britain at times seemed more of an “assault”. We made the most of the vacation time and finished it with a wonderful meal at a winery B&B that Tricia tricked me into having her pay for.

Of all the wonderful things Tricia mentions in her blog, what does Tricia’s mom do? Hears anything that she could worry about--life is scary; no, it isn't easy; trials and tribulations; etc—often not even hearing the context is which something is said. But I guess we all can be proven so wrong. With my short time in Belfast I saw so much. Not only have I seen my daughter’s successes and accomplishments, I've seen and witnessed some of her trials and tribulations.Tricia has met some wonderful people, has had irreplaceable experiences and has learned volumes about herself. She now sees that she can do anything and that every cloud has a silver lining. A mother could be nothing but proud. Tricia has soldiered through her YAV year with dignity and grace—for that I am extremely proud of her and admire her. And for who she is I love her.

Aww, thanks mom - love you too! For more of our photos from the trip, click here.

Bonus Roomie Post!

So, I wasn't kidding when I said I really enjoyed the Christmas Eve service at Anna's church. For those who don't know my roomie, she is incredibly talented at just about everything she attempts, and I was in awe of her Christmas message at the service. It nearly brought me to tears (shutupIhavesomethinginmyeye), and I (gently) demanded that she post it so I could share it with you.

You can read her whole post here.

If you don’t normally attend church at Whitehouse (welcome!) or you don’t know who I am, my name is Anna and I’m not from here.

I’m over from the States to spend a year here, living in Belfast and working at Whitehouse.

This is my first-ever Christmas away from home. While I certainly miss being at home with friends and family, what I miss most these days is the familiarity of Christmas. I don’t know this to be a fact, but I would hazard a guess that Christmas has more traditions surrounding it than any other time of the year. We sing the same songs, eat the same food, and visit the same family at the same time.

One thing you may not know about me is that I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist. I like to know as much as possible before I….No. I like to know as much as possible. Full stop.

I tell you that because while I could describe to you, at length, the Christmas traditions of the state of South Carolina, in Belfast I am humbled on a daily basis, because so much of what is tradition here is brand new to me. I’m a trained singer, and I don’t know half of the beloved carols. I never know exactly what’s going on, and I often feel as if I’m working with as little information as possible.

Spending Christmas away from the familiar has allowed me to relate to the nativity story in a completely new way. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever actually related to it much in the first place. I’ve never had an angel visit me in a dream and tell me that I was going to give birth to the Son of God, for instance. But Mary and Joseph were very much away from the familiar. In fact, nothing about that first Christmas would have been familiar to anyone in the story we know so well.

In the States, we have a term for that, and it comes from the great American pastime – baseball. What happens to Mary and Joseph, as we’ve seen tonight, is known as a curveball. You see, when you throw a baseball, it normally just goes in a relatively straight line, until the batter hits it, the catcher catches it, or it hits the ground because gravity has taken its course. But there’s a technique to throwing a baseball in which the ball will curve in its trajectory, and you usually can’t see that it’s curved until it’s right in front of you. Curveballs allow almost no time for the batter to adjust his stance, and are therefore notoriously difficult to hit. 

When Mary receives the news from the angel Gabriel that she’s going to be pregnant with the Son of God – that’s a curve ball.

When Joseph realizes that his fiancé is pregnant and he isn’t the father – that’s a curve ball.

When they can’t find a place to stay on their journey and the baby is born amongst dirty, stinky animals – that’s a curve ball.

Life is constantly throwing us curve balls. We lose our jobs. Our relationships end. Our loved ones die suddenly. It’s chaos. It’s messy. It’s scary.

You know, the Son of God had been predicted and prophesied for hundreds of years. Religious leaders of the time believed that God would come down in a blaze of glory – a man who would be larger than life, atop a flaming chariot with a horse made of gold or something. But this God, our God, chose to enter our world as an infant; born to two people who just went with the curve balls they’d been thrown.

I’d like to see the real nativity portrayed. A terrified, teenage girl with no midwife; a young man who would have never been present at a birth, pacing backwards and forwards, mopping the sweat off of his brow and muttering to himself; animals and all of the sounds and smells that come with them. This is the scene where God puts skin on. This chaos. This mess.

The nativity story isn’t one that was only relevant two thousand years ago. In the same way that the Christ-child was physically born, he is born in us again – into the chaos and the mess and the fear of our lives.

We don’t have to give much. We don’t have to have much. We don’t have to be perfect or have it all together or even know what’s going on most of the time. We just have to be willing.

I hope that your celebrations tomorrow are filled with the joy and hope and love of Christ. I also hope you’ll take the time to reflect on the staggering reality and significance of the birth of the Son of God into the unfamiliar, and into the reality of our own lives. 

Over the past four weeks, we’ve lit four candles: one for hope, one for joy, one for peace and one for love. And tonight we light the one that signifies the manifestation of all of those things in the world: the Christ candle.

I hope you’ll notice, as the light from this candle moves around the room, that even though some of us are close to Christ candle and some are far away, the candles at the farthest corners will shine with the same intensity as those closest to the source.