Category Archives: Indigenous Spirituality

Praying with Winter

We have given ourselves to the often lonely furrow of prayer. To the walking, kneeling and weeping path of petition. We have cried deep within ourselves for the union with God that all souls who walk on the green fields of Britain are called to inherit.

white horse 2

For some the journey must now go deeper still. Deeper into the woods, the hills, the caves, the rivers and waters of our coastline. Deeper still into the aloneness with God in the isolated places of our land. Deeper still as we locate ourselves in the ascetic practice of penitence and humility, with only the promise of God to free us from the seductions of this world and bring us to the place of simple encounter.

The encounter of heaven on earth and His promise to bring us home to the eternal embrace of creations creator. For the path home, for all who crave the adornment of the soul with the full grace of heaven, must be to embrace the call to be alone with Christ in love. And this aloneness is not to be feared, but like the Baptist, it is to be known as a charism. It is the path of true discovery and not for those whose needs can be met in the comfort and safety of hearth and material home.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; 38and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. Gospel of Matthew chapter 10.

Winter_south_downs

And it is into this aloneness that winter teaches us to walk. Where our only warmth is the strangely warmed heart turned to Christ as your breath is clouded in the freezing air before your face and your knees know only grey stone. Winters song is the lonely mourning of longing for release from the shackles of our own barren sin. It is the deep frustration of knowing our own internal death, were our life blood and spirit has frozen still and in our muteness and paralysis we strain our eyes upward pleading for release. And God whose deep affection stokes our cheek with a reassurance of tomorrows safety, awakens our voice to simple worlds of love. The silent prayers of our hearts move the coldness to a touch of warmth, a few words of connection and understanding, and our dull minds awaken to the language of the eternal Holy Spirit.

Then finally we reach out beyond ourselves and we are touched by the green shoots of spring. The moisture of grass and the pent-up energy of the budding blossom that is now pregnant with an explosion of colour, and we await the first rays of The Son’s spring sunshine. The grafted branch that has been so lifeless now tastes the early sweetness of Christ’s flowing life-giving sap, bringing love and potential back to our lonely lives. And as we awaken we find our struggle is the voice of our land crying for an end to its winter of discontent and suffering. For our land has forgotten He who formed it, and our lonely prayers are the first whispering dreams that call it back to the warmth of His glorious summer.

L’église est fermée

“Monsieur, L’église est fermée”, said the old man as I wondered round the Sint-Niklaaskerk (Church of St Nicholas) in Ghent St Pierre in Belgium at 9 am. An hour I did not think was particularly excessive.

Saint Nicholas Church“Pardon”, I replied, “Comment l’Église peut être fermé?” or in English, “How can the Church be closed?”

I am currently in Belgium for three days contributing to a series of talks and presentations on the ethics, (or lack thereof), in the gold business. I try where ever possible to maintain a rhythm of morning prayer. Ghent St Pierre, is a beautiful Renaissance City so a morning stroll through the town to the local Church seemed in order.

At this point an old lady, who was busy brushing down the altar turned to me and in a sweetest English accent said “The Church is always closed”.

So welcome to my morning meditation. The Church is always closed. I despair. I was not even sad about it, I was furious. How the fuck can the Church be closed? No wonder the state of the community of Christ is in such a trauma across western Europe with a practice like that.

The sweet old lady informed me that they had just finished mass, and I could come back at 10 am when the Church opened for tourists. I explained I was not a tourist and I wanted to find somewhere to pray. She was clearly perplexed by my reply as I also indicated I would like to take part in mass. “You cannot do that”, she said “we have finished, you should have got up earlier”. The old man repeated I should leave as the “L’église est fermée”.

The Adoration of the Mystic LambWith these words ringing in my ear, I wandered further up the road to St Bavo’s Cathedral, the home of The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb by Hubert and Jan van Eyck. As I prayed in front of this iconic painting, the anger of a closed Church burned in my head. The deception of a philosophy of Christendom as a twisted witness to the authentic Jesus of Nazareth came into sharp focus for me. My anger began to give way to the grace of tears as the realisation that with the collapse of Western Christendom almost complete, I am free to enjoy these ecclesiastical art galleries, as the Cathedral of Christ can only be found in creation.

The post Christendom landscape of Europe presents us with a wonderful opportunity to find the real witness to Jesus, without the baggage of religious ideology fused with State patronage. The doors of Christendom’s buildings may be closed, but the community of Christ is open. Is open to imagination, open to opportunity, open to encounter and open to a rediscovery of ancient pathways made new.

In the build up, during lent, to our Celtic Easter celebration on 15 April, I am conscious this is where I am, in the landscape of re-imagining. Walking an ancient indigenous British path, rediscovering its rhythm of practice, learning to walk under the sun of the Son. The Monastic Church of the British Isles, a distant memory to the contemporary Church, is awakening again. A Monastic Church that in the fire of its youth, did not swallow the lie of the Emperor Constantine’s settlement of Christianity as the religion of the empire.

As I stared at the Mystic Lamb upon the sacrificial altar in the Van Eyck painting, I could see the early Churches emphasis on the redemptive sacrifice of Christ, the helpless lamb, led to the slaughter, a willing sacrifice for the horrors of humanities cosmic error. This willing submission to powerlessness and service as authentic witness is the road on which the true disciple walks. My prayer is that I will have the courage to keep walking.

The Global Village

First published in ‘Dead Men Walking’ (Kingsway 2002), I am posting this chapter as a ‘pre-lent’ reflection upon history, progress and regression.

I remember vividly 9/11 as I was in the States at the time with friends from NYC now living in New Mexico and the psychological horror and havoc of this act of terrorism had on us. The horror of listening to the phone going dead as we grappled for information from my friends daughter, and the havoc of the ensuing silence and emotional meltdown that followed for my friends.

This chapter captured in time where my thinking was in response to the rapid globalisation that was taking place at the beginning of 21 century, and how at the time I was searching for a response rooted in the ‘Imitation of Christ’.  Although the facts and figures are dated and some of the cultural responses seemingly small, by comparison to later achievements like the introduction of Fairtrade Gold,  it reminded me of what it was like to start the journey and how the DNA of God’s Spirit in that journey towards a lifestyle ethic remains as strong as ever.

Now as a contemplative activist, finding my way with the aid of inspirational figures like Columba, Patrick, and other indigenous Saints of the British Isles, the ‘Naked Imitation of Christ and the Evangelists‘, still requires a radical transformation of life rooted in an imitation of Christ, not the evangelical obsession with proclamation. All imitation includes proclamation, not all proclamation is imitation.

Global Village.

When asked to write a chapter for this book on the global village, I asked myself does it exist? It does to me! As I drive Route 66 post twin towers holocaust, watched live on TV, some sick reality TV repeat of our worst nightmare, I watch the smoke stacks holding their breath – in anticipation of the impending energy crisis on the west coast of America. Past ‘Los Alamos Nuclear Power and Research Plant’ paranoid over the threat of terrorist attacks. Through Tulsa (that boasts to me of the 10lb steak served blue to you from the prairies of the Mid West), I listen to the ‘Savage Nation’ proselytising Israeli propaganda on the 1000-year Jihad against Christianity and the lifestyle of the west. This seems no different to Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson who were reported to have blamed the 11th September on moral decline of the USA bought about by gay and lesbian people.

I fight back the psychological outrage of the global communication networks that feeds me information faster than I can process. I wage war on myself because I am impotent, to change the rising tide of war, revenge and the fatalism that wells within me. Its not that I rage against the machine and its technological advanced mechanics, I war with myself, my spirituality, my God and the apparent hopelessness that an ever-expanding world thrusts upon me. I am grateful for the information; grateful for the inter-net, grateful for the access it gives me to information and the vast array of cultural perspectives I can feed myself at the touch of a button. Yet this very gratitude is like the beetle that’s eating away at the Elm Tree. In time it will topple the faith we place in the immediate culture we have created.

I once heard a man talk about watching a child shit itself to death; he was left with no other words than, ‘the shame, the shame, the shame’.  The Global Village is to some a defining reality, to others a dream of what we can become, to others a nightmare. It is morally irreconcilable that in monetary terms ‘the growth in global advertising’ “now outpaces the growth in the world economy by one-third”[1]. If I am tortured by the world I live in, I deserve to be when millions of children die of diarrhoea every year because of my cultural selfishness.

Christianity is a faith of action. Action that is rooted in The Justice of God.  This justice demands more than the Evangelical preoccupation with ‘saving souls’ or ‘new models of church that will (finally!) facilitate revival’. This justice requires a spirituality that transcends the personal preoccupation we all have with what we do with our genitals, or the male ghost of masturbation (I understand that women suffer from this demon too). If the totality of my faith is to listen to anointed preachers tell me about how we are going to save the world from the platform, I think I may become a Jesus-centred Buddhist. The day of the platform preacher is over, the day of the self styled guru (so called anointed) man of God is over, the day of the charismatic prophet who quivers when delivering a piece of inspired intuition must stop.  Christian spirituality, if reduced to this level of soap-opera popular culture, no longer enshrines the values or the heartbeat of God.

God’s justice is not a demand or a social ethic; it is not an extra or a central part of the life of the body of Christ. It is the Body of Christ.  How I live and behave as a Christian must be defined by the priorities of the Gospel.  God’s justice is a reflection of his personality. Father, Son and Holy Spirit live together as Three in One and One in Three. We worship (and should reflect in our relationships with one another and the world), a Trinitarian God who is perfect relationship, perfect love, perfect communication, whose will is enshrined in action as well as words.

As we reflect upon the Trinity we are inspired to meditate upon the world and to identify where our society no longer reflects that perfect relationship. Jesus, the Incarnation of a Trinitarian God, encapsulated this idea in the teaching on the Sermon on the Mount. The poor, the grieving, the humble, the merciful, the justice seekers, the pure of heart and purpose, the persecuted, the misunderstood, the peacemakers all become the ideal and object of our life’s work. By enshrining these values into our lives we build a community that is genuinely counter-cultural. We reflect a gospel that no longer apes popular culture because of its morally impotent message and desperation to be heard, but begins to re-define culture for the benefit of the poor, the marginalised and the dispossessed. This justice, this lifestyle, this radicalism becomes the aroma of Christ to our world and the cause to which people are willing to give their lives.

I am willing to give my life for the dignity of the homeless because it is righteous and just.

I am willing to shop as ethically as I can because it invests worth in the labour of those that produce my food.

I am willing to embrace the violence of the prostitute because he or she is the victim of violence and deserves peace of mind.

I am willing to campaign to change the terms of trade between rich and poor countries because the increasing gap between rich and poor is morally unjustifiable.

I am willing to limit my lifestyle because resources spent on the expansion of my middle-class lifestyle are resources diverted away from the greater needs of the poor.

Our lives are the true reflection of what we believe and our actions as Christians in the Global Village must be tangible and just. I can wrap up my faith in Christ in the trappings and trimmings of popularity but, in my experience, those that are attracted to Jesus through these means, whether in the UK or Tanzania ultimately see through the shallow nature of cultural relevance and demand something more substantial.

Lifestyle the key to engaging the Global Village.

It is true that we are all participants in what is called the Global Village.  We are all aware of the implications that this means on us and on those that we are never likely to meet. As I parade my new Gap top, Nike shoes, eat my mass-farmed breakfast cereal, climb into my German car, buy my child the latest Mickey Mouse Disney toy, I eat at the table of what we call the global free market.  That market where items are manufactured or grown in one part of the world and bought and consumed in another.

An example of this would be the manufacturing of Nike Athletic Shoes. These are produced in many Export Processing Zones (EPZ). ‘These are tax-free havens in the 2/3rds world where goods are mass-produced in sweatshop conditions. One factory in China the Wellco Factory pays workers $0.16 per hour, runs 11-12 hour shifts, 7 days a week.  Workers are fined if they refuse to work overtime, overtime rates are not paid, most employees have no legal contract, corporeal punishment has been reported, workers are fined if they are caught talking, approximately 10 children were found in the sewing section and virtually no employee had heard of the Nike Code of Conduct’[2].

This situation is not new, not uncommon and can be found virtually anywhere in the world in any industry.  It is one example of how we are linked to the global world, through global trade and consumption and have a global responsibility to act as righteously as we can.  It is here that a justice-orientated lifestyle kicks in.

Begin the Journey.

We begin by asking – what do we believe in? By that I don’t mean – just Jesus: if we say we believe in Jesus and change nothing in our lives other than our personal morality, we are hypocrites and have missed the point of following Christ. But we ask ourselves, what did Jesus believe in?  Jesus believed in justice, righteousness, and compassion for the poor.  He believed in challenging unjust structures that perpetuated violence and poverty and he attacked the roots of the problem in human selfishness and greed.  Therefore if we say we follow Christ so must we do as he did.

We then move onto, what in my lifestyle needs to change in order more to reflect the values of Jesus? Perhaps we need to recycle paper as a way of not wasting the resources of the rain forest, or shop more ethically by buying Café Direct fairtrade coffee, or Green & Blacks organic chocolate, or researching if there is an organic producer who delivers to the door. By doing these things we are not only expressing a concern for our environment, but we are giving tangible expression to what we believe in.

We can then begin to look into getting involved with groups or networks that are actively working on issues relating to the poor, the marginalized and the dispossessed.  We could join in a campaign that is working to see the trade rules around the world made fairer for poor countries.  We could support a work amongst prostitutes in our own country or overseas. Or perhaps if you are feeling really revolutionary, write to a company and complain about their practices and say you will be telling all your friends what they are up to and you will not buy their product. At this time action speak louder then words and Christians must be at the forefront of seeing the world changed into a fairer and more just society for all people.

This is not an exhaustive list of things that can be done, but they represent some of the things that my household has done over the last 5 years.  It must be recognised that this is a journey that you embark upon at some cost to yourself. You will discover just how little you know about the world, just how unjust our society is and how we are all complicit in the oppression of the poor. You will discover your own likes and dislikes, you’re prejudices and bigotry and, I dare say, a little cultural racism and superiority as well.  This is a journey for the strong, the courageous and the dedicated, it is not a journey for the closed minded, the cultural supremacist and ego-centric amongst us.

I have not had the opportunity in this short space to talk in more detail about the lives of the poor, the fact that the global village means global misery to millions and that preaching at people in the form of crusades and evangelistic meetings leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of millions and does little more than create ‘rice’ Christians and boost statistics. Or that the inter-net revolution is only a revolution if you have electricity, literacy and the money to be able to buy a computer. (As I found recently in Ethiopia when discussing a Human Rights situation with community leaders from the slums, my technological sophistication was clearly beyond their capability of participating in). In a society that has reduced Christianity to a mere personal choice and moral framework, we need the strong and courageous to put substance back into what it means to follow Christ.  Our lives must demonstrate the substance of the gospel and the justice of God.

In conclusion, it is my personal conviction that as we enter the 21st century the work of the Spirit of Christ in the world will focus more on issues of peace, justice and reconciliation than ever before.  The Global Village gives us global access, and with global access we carry an ever-greater responsibility to act and behave in such a way as to honour Christ in thought, word and deed.

Greg Valerio

Founder CRED Jewellery and CRED Foundation


[1] 1998 United Nations Human Development Report. (Italics mine)

[2] Naomi Klein. No Logo, Table 9.3 p474. pub Flamingo 2000

A Regular Spiritual Heartbeat.

St Columbanus referred to life as ‘the great peregrinatio‘, yet what strikes me as so powerful about the Celtic saints, such as Columbanus, was that their story was not just about extraordinary travels and exploits and their mastery of the seas and the mountains, but also their rigorous personal spiritual disciplines that measured the quality of the internal journey. This axis of internal and external journey, although in no way unique to Celtic Spirituality, did manifest itself in a quite remarkable fashion through those who were indigenous to the British Isles.

In my personal journey with and towards Christ, this very axis has become the biggest point of contention and opportunity in my walk with God. There is no doubt in my mind that the current state of Christianity in the British Isles is out of sync with the heartbeat of God. The heart of the British church is beating certainly, but not in its natural rhythm. I also recognise that in my own life I suffer from an irregular spiritual heartbeat, my condition a perplexing mix of my own shortcomings as a person and the pollution that exists in the atmosphere around me. How does a fish define water?

With so little attention paid in modern life to the internal journey, the feeding of the soul and the formation of Christ in the internal world has become a priority for me. The words of St Paul, ‘I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate’ (Romans vii, 16) has taken on new meaning as I explore the question ‘what is a regular healthy spiritual heartbeat?’

This question disturbs me as I find myself engaging in a process of ‘apophatic thinking‘, or ‘negative thinking’ to find my way forward. I know what I do not want to do, I know how I do not want to behave, I know what in society I do not like, yet I remain at the mercy of the very atmosphere I despise. I know for example that the pervasive religion of ‘material capitalism’ impregnates every aspect of our lives and its destructive and ungodly forces shape our behaviour and are being felt across the world, creating untold misery for millions on every continent, yet I also know I am not free of the disease and the problem is internal as well as external. Therefore Christs’ salvation in my life is incomplete.

It is to the Celtic saints and their spiritual practices, I find myself turning more and more as I seek a daily rhythm, perhaps cure is a better word, for my liberation. More specifically to the Rule of Columba, and an exploration of his contemporary meaning and application. This is for me no mere intellectual exercise. If it was I would have failed at the first hurdle on the journey, as intellectual rationalism and the disconnect it creates between thought and practice is one of the very foundation stones of the amorality that exists within the very fabric of our society.

The ascetic disciplines and practices of the Celts are very foreign to our modern culture, yet I believe they offer us a route towards a new future. The current rise of ‘post-modern monastic’ expressions of lifestyle and community give testimony to the fact that the ancient ways are no longer ancient, but are in fact timeless and eternal and are attempting to find a way of breaking into our prison cells of individualism and materialism and setting us free.

Having settled in the indigenous British spirituality of the Celtic Church, I discover a vast panorama of potential right outside my doorstep and the challenge before me now is to allow The Holy Trinity – the perfect community – to harness me to that potential and help me move away from ‘negative thinking’ towards positive practice.

The Columban rule outlines a daily rhythm of ‘prayers, work and reading’ (rule 15), of ‘regular vigils from eve to eve’ (rule 14), offers direction on silence and solitude (rules 1, 5, 21), in fact covers a multitude of disciplines that engage not only the internal world of devotion and intimacy with Christ, but also the external world of ‘alms giving & work’ (rule 18 & 16) and how in simple ways to interact with others (rules 5, 6, 21). In the few years I have been working with this rule I have found its true wisdom rests in its power to re-orientate the inner life in a direction that is contrary to the course of the world. It echoes St Paul again when he cries;

all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is the very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are Children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ (Romans viii, 14-17a)

These rules act as guide to lifestyle and behaviour that in turn assist in attuning me to the course of the flow of the Spirit in life. Rather like a river that flows through the landscape of our lives. If the virtue of following an external rule is building those rules into your life and this very act in turn builds discipline that brings stillness and receptivity to the presence of God, then the building of the river banks is a sacred pursuit. On reflection the only form that the Spirit of Christ desires to dwell in and upon is the natural one that was created by God in the first place. The skin I am in and the land I walk on is the only home I have that God can dwell in naturally so I must become the vessel we journey together in.

What I am enjoying about the exploration of the Rule of Columba, is it takes place in the land from which it was born. In this world of homogenous global culture, of which Britain, as a historical empire and an eminent financial and military power has helped to shape, I am rediscovering the indigenous Spirit of the Creator in the beauty of this land that is being liberated into a new and emerging story. I know it to be a story that began with the ‘believing diaspora’ who fled the Roman Caesar’s persecution of the ‘followers of the way’  as they landed on these shores seeking safety. A story that blended and filled out the native culture that in the words of the Welsh bard Taliessin ‘we always new Christ as Creator, but never knew his name’.

It will again be a story that in the pagan barbarianism of unfettered materialism that is now the dominant culture, can find its voice, a discipline and a power to connect the Christ of all creation ‘to all who would receive him‘ (John i, v12).

Amazing Grace in Inuit

I have been working in Greenland with Inuit people as they fight for justice and access to their home Island. The Danish like all colonial masters, define ownership by standards that have to be imposed through force and violence, call it civilisation and then prosecute and criminalise native people who break their unjust laws. Sometimes the only form of protest you have is to, Not drink from the cup that is presented to you. This is a fitting song for a noble struggle.