From Giggleswick in the Dales to the urban City of Bradford

August 10, 2007

We left Giggleswick on Friday morning and headed down from the Dales into the sprawling suburbs of Bradford. Two nights before, Aimee and Peter led the group of American and British youth to the top of a quarry overlooking the Ribble valley and the flickering lights of the village nestled along the river. Peter commented that, before he was installed at the parish church in Giggleswick, he ascended that granite staircase to survey the boundaries of his new charge in the fading light of what the inhabitants of the Dales refer to as the "gloamin' time." Peter remembered believing each house light in the village below was a soul burning in the twilight, and he wanted to share that vision with his new friends. Huddled together in the disappearing light, the group followed the gentle slope through the village streets and into the King's Wood beneath the modest ridge above. Each participant carried a stone gathered from the vicarage garden. Each stone represented a nagging burden that its bearer wished to shed and leave behind in the ancient quarry. At the crest of the ridge, the group shared their burdens, only to leave them behind and descend lighter than before and ready for a deep sleep that only a grace-cleaned conscience can bring.

On Thursday, the last day in Giggleswick, Peter and Carol took us to the Lake District for a picnic, a few walks, and some time to commune with each other and the dramatic scenery of north eastern England: Beatrix Potter and Peter Rabbit country—a land where water reflects both earth and sky. Peter and Carol were truly gracious hosts, full of energy and peace, laughter and reflection, and who are practitioners of that sort of radical hospitality that Christ demonstrated to his disciples and calls us to emulate. We left Giggleswick wanting nothing but more time with our new friends.

August 11, 2007

Many of us had been waiting for this day to arrive and were both nervous and hopeful. We heard from our predecessors that this unique experience would become the climax of our time in this dynamic diocese. When we met Reverend Canon Arun John at St. Paul's Parish Church in Manningham, we could feel the Spirit beginning to move in ways too profound to articulate, in "groans too deep for words." Canon Arun John is an Indian-born vicar who became a priest and served in India until becoming an Archdeacon in the South African church. From Johannesburg, he was enticed by Islamic scholar, Inter-Faith Advisor to the Bishop of Bradford and our guide through the "Asian" streets of Bradford, Phillip Lewis, to serve as the vicar of St. Paul's. This extraordinary parish church is located in Manningham, the "Asian" section of Bradford. To the British, the term Asian is used to refer to the inhabitants of Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and India, who by and large are Muslim. St. Paul's Manningham, then, serves as the point parish for the inter-faith work in the diocese and conducts services in Erdu, the language of Pakistan and the most commonly spoken language, second only to English, in the city of Bradford. A dynamic and engaging man, Canon Arun John generously spent his Saturday morning with us, sharing his incredible story and tipping us off to the complexities involved in uniting the world's two greatest missionary faiths, Christianity and Islam, in dialogue, mutual appreciation and understanding. In the person of Canon Arun John seemed to dwell one of the most tangible incarnations of the multicultural and international spirit of our common Faith.

From St. Paul's, we accompanied Phillip on a tour through the Asian streets of Bradford and caught glimpses of a world heretofore unknown to us: women in burkas, some partially, some completely veiled; street signs written in seemingly mystical script; and mosques tucked into back alleys or arrayed with blue domes. Our tour ended at a giant mosque/community center. A young Muslim professional greeted us and became our guide through the newly constructed multi-million pound facility. He was warm and open and humbly answered our novice questions about Islamic faith and practice. Moreover, he spoke in harsh tones about the more radical elements of the Islamic world and assured us genuinely and authoritatively that the Koran does not support the acts of those who kill indiscriminately in the name of Allah. With a far-away look in his eyes, he shared briefly the story of his pilgrimage to Mecca, the fifth pillar of Islam, and spoke sincerely about the importance of prayer and aid to the poor, which are central to his religious tradition. Many of us felt a sense of peace, despite our unfamiliar yet somehow comforting surroundings. We lingered over our good-byes and each of us was given an English-language copy of the Koran as a parting gift and, perhaps, the gift of hope as well—the hope that the wide gulf between our faiths might be narrowed each time we meet each other with good intentions and open hearts.