f.v.robb

Jun

2022

Pulpit power

One of the the gifts of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns and curtailed social life has been the opportunity to familiarise oneself with online services such as Zoom. On a number of Sundays I have been able to indulge in my interest in homiletics by tuning in to services in various churches on both sides of the Atlantic. As my knowledge of preaching styles has widened, so too my appreciation of sermon delivery has crystallised.

There is power in the pulpit – the power of the spoken word, and the presumed power of God speaking through the preacher. Great preaching is an act of servitude, an invitation to reflect on spiritual truths. It entails humility and a willingness to leave up to God the job of sitting in judgment of others. People want to hear God speaking to their hearts, not the preacher showing erudition in a verse-by-verse exposition of Scripture, nor a generalised exhortation to “accept Christ…or else!” Preachers over-reach themselves if they assume the mantle of God by judging that theirs is the only path towards salvation. Thundering from the pulpit may show zeal, but preacher’s passion should also be tempered with compassion. A servant of the Lord must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all (2 Tim. 2:24), says Paul. Christ was a Master preacher who never used His authority to coerce listeners. He showed how to be critical of Jewish leaders without ever being discourteous or ungracious. He preached with grace and kindness, and He taught His disciples to show this same respect to all (Matt.10:14). Such sterling attributes are vital in our present churches where Christianity is sadly broken into many differing factions.

God calls us to reflect His all-encompassing love, a love exemplified by Christ who reaches unceasingly across the ruined landscape of our war-torn world and humanity’s worst handiwork to guide us into the arms of His Father. It is this love, this grace, and this loving-kindness that must inspire preachers so that their sermons are always worthy of the church and reflect the thoughtful approach of a true Christian.

May

2022

The wrong refugee

“Are all humans human, or are some more human than others?” asked Romeo Dallaire who commanded the UN peacekeeping force during the 1994 Rwandan genocide. I was reminded of this quotation by the UK government’s generous response to Ukrainians following the Russian invasion of their country – British visas, residence permits, access to free healthcare and schooling… Is it fair that some migrants should be treated differently than others? Our response to Ukrainian refugees is in stark contrast to the constraints we impose on those fleeing from conflicts in the Middle East and Africa. Even fair-minded Britons agree that white Europeans view fellow-white European refugees in a different light to those of other ethnic and cultural backgrounds. We pat ourselves on the back for being generous and concerned humanitarians in offering Ukrainians a resounding welcome to our homes coupled with indefinite stay and free welfare, while at the same time plucking African and Middle Eastern migrants from sinking rafts in the Channel, and sending them to compounds to be “processed”. There has even been talk of relocating some migrants offshore to Rwanda!

This crisis illustrates two types of asylum seeker – the genuine refugee, and the “wrong” refugee. Genuine ones are not obliged to claim asylum in the first country in which they set foot – otherwise, most Ukrainians would be seeking it in Poland. Ukrainians are allowed to bypass that particular hurdle and travel straight on to Germany, England or to wherever they choose to be temporarily domiciled. “Wrong” refugees who have fled over the border to a neighbouring country, such as Afghans to India are obliged to claim asylum there, even though they have family and friends here in Britain willing to provide them with refuge and financial aid.

Ukrainians have an offer of 90 days’ visa-free public transport and free phone communication within Europe, and plans exist to grant them up to three years’ temporary protection within European Union countries without the need to apply for asylum–not so for “wrong” refugees! Could this be generosity with tinge of xenophobia?

Perhaps ethnicity and cultural differences play a greater part than is often assumed in our perception of The Good Samaritan.

May

2022

Tehran Zoomers

This is a unique photo of erstwhile members of the congregation of St Paul’s Episcopal Church in Tehran, reunited 40 years after the 1979 Revolution in 2019 at the residential meeting of Friends of the Diocese of Iran in London. All those in the above photo were also present at my Baptism and reception into the Christian faith by Bishop Hassan Dehqani-Tafti at St Paul’s Church in Tehran on 5 May 1978.

Now, nearly half a century later one of the gifts of the Covid-19 pandemic and ensuing lockdowns has been the creation of a monthly ZOOM meeting which reunites many of us online. Former congregation members of St Paul’s Church in Tehran tune in from all over the world –from various States in the USA, from Wales, England, Scotland, India, the Emirates, Australia, New Zealand. It’s truly international. Some like me, who joined the church only a year before the Revolution, are relative ‘newbies’, but others can date their link to St Paul’s as far back as the 1960s. One of the real gifts of the Covid-19 pandemic and ensuing lockdowns has been to enable those among us who were ‘technology dinosaurs’ to finally master the art of ZOOM.

We meet just once a month for just one hour, at 6pm GMT – and if that sounds simple, just think of having to factor in all the different time zones, in the different global hemispheres! Because we are able to see into each other’s homes on screen, some will be preparing breakfast, others joining at dinner time, and for others it will be long past their bedtime! Over the past months, we have become a close-knit group and look forward to regular these meetings, in which we exchange family news, pray for one another, discuss challenges facing Iran, and generally support one another through life events. In fact, we are getting to know each other much better than we could ever have imagined, or ever thought might be possible.

How especially lucky am I, that the two men of God, Rev.Stephen Arpee (now in the USA) and Rev.Khalil Razmara (now in Australia), who prepared a ‘twenty-something’ me for Baptism all those years ago in Tehran, are still alive and going strong online. I am able to see and hear them, speak to them, and meet them every few weeks on ZOOM!

I’m sure the Holy Spirit has had a hand in it.

May

2022

Peter’s wife and priestly celibacy

I am not a Roman Catholic, but I recently found myself discussing the celibacy requirement for Catholic priesthood. More accurately, it was a discussion originating from the dichotomy that Peter, acknowledged to be the first Catholic pope, is portrayed as a married man in the gospels (Luke 4:38-41; Mark 1:30-31). Therein lies the contention, according to certain Protestants, that since popes are priests vowed to a life celibacy, they do not follow the Biblical example of Peter. Therefore, the Catholic Church has veered away from the Scriptures and has choosen to adhere to the precepts of their so-called “Tradition”.

Firstly, it should be noted that vocational celibacy is not an unshakeable dogma, it’s a disciplinary rule, originally formulated in the Middle Ages to prevent nepotism within the church. This rule still applies today for unmarried ordinands in the Latin or Western-Rite Catholic Church but is not mandatory everywhere in the Catholic world. In the Orthodox, Eastern-Rite and Oriental Catholic churches it’s not unknown for priests to be married. The Latin-Rite Church will accept a married man’s application for ordination providing that he was married prior to being called to the priesthood. It will also consider for ordination a married convert to the Catholic faith. Such exceptions and variations demonstrate that what is often perceived to be an “absolute” by non-Catholics is actually less absolute than they think.

The Bible recommends and encourages us to marry and have children—to “be fruitful and multiply”. Catholics are taught that marriage is a sacrament— an action by God on our soul—and it is precisely this holiness that makes a dignified vow of chastity so precious.

Celibacy was chosen and practised by both Jesus and Paul, and also by John the Baptist. Paul even made a case for preferring it to marriage (1 Cor.7:32-34)! Vocational celibacy is not easy road to travel. It is a sacrificial gift chosen by a man of God for the sake of the Kingdom of God (Matt.19:12). It enables him to become a full-time pastor, unfettered by the many duties that are required of a husband and father.

No one is obliged to take a vow of celibacy. Those who do, do so voluntarily and the Catholic synod chooses its candidates for the priesthood from their ranks.

Featured image courtesy of Pixabay

Apr

2022

Third-culture kid

I had a good life and a career as an English academic in Iran before losing everything in the Islamic revolution of 1979, coming to Britain and re-training as a nurse and midwife.

Born in Switzerland and raised as a Muslim in a Persian family, I attended the International School of Geneva for ten years before we relocated to Iran. Many of its international pupils were, like me, products of two or more cultures. At school we were known as the “3^rd culture kids”.

After my family’s move to Iran during my teens, I was obliged to switch my mindset from a permissive European culture to the more restrictive Middle Eastern one, and to adopt Persian and Muslim values and mores. To complicate matters I became a Christian in Iran in my late twenties, and was baptized in Tehran in 1978 during the final year of the Shah’s reign.

In the political turmoil and purges that followed in the wake of the Revolution, I was an anomaly: a female Iranian convert to Christianity. The new theocratic Muslim republic that my homeland had become had no place for me. I did not fit in comfortably anywhere within its social structure. A fortuitous move to England enabled me to start over again, training to be a nurse. This meant yet another cultural adjustment in order to integrate fully into modern British society. My subsequent happy marriage saved me from the threat of a rudderless existence. Husband, children, and a permanent home in Edinburgh finally enabled me to embrace a completely new identity enhanced by an intimate blend of different languages, cultures, and religions. I’m now a surprisingly stable adult “3^rd-culture kid”!

If you want to know how I survived the Revolution, changed religion, adopted a different national identity, lost my homeland and family, started from scratch in a new discipline, and yet can lead a meaningful life in my adoptive country, then you should read In the Shadow of the Shahs published by Lion Hudson (2019)—it’s the story of my life and its cultural challenges.

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