One story that I recently read was about Black Kettle, a leader of the Southern Cheyennes, who lived in the Colorado/Kansas area. When treaties of protection were being violated by the American settlers and government, Black Kettle signed a treaty to remove his tribe to Sand Creek reservation, that the US government had allocated for them, a land in which the soil was unsuitable for crops and the wild animals were scarce. Many of the tribe, including women and children died within the first winter. Other native american leaders thought he was a coward but Black Kettle believed that it was the only way to have peace, as the Americans were too strong for them.

After a while a regiment of soldiers led by a man called Chivington approached the Sand Creek Reservation. The official Indian agent of the US government advised Black Kettle that if he raised an American and White flag from his tent, they wouldn’t be harmed. Black Kettle raised the flag as the soldiers approached. He assured the frightened women and children that they would not be harmed.

Chivington and his men killed 163 Cheyenne that day, mostly women and children by stabbing or shooting them. Black Kettle managed to escape with his injured wife.Even after this he was a proponent of pacifism and when the US government demanded another “peace” treaty to be signed, Black Kettle signed and removed his tribe even father south to Oklahoma to the land that was allotted to them.

Because other Cheyenne resisted the ongoing killing and being forced out of their lands, General Sheridan sent Custer and his men to attack any native americans they could find as punishment. When Custer and his men approached Black Kettle’s camp this time he did not assure everyone to stay calm but had everyone flee. 100 Cheyenne including women and children were killed that day, as was Black Kettle and his wife, both shot in the back as they were running away.

This is one story of many, and it isn’t even the worst one, but I thought I’d share it because Black Kettle was really a hero in my eyes, and I am ashamed that we killed him and his family. He was a true peacemaker in a world of violence and greed.

This happened only 150 years ago. It’s too soon to forget about it.

“Although wrongs have been done me I live in hopes. I have not got two hearts….Now we are together again to make peace. My shame is as big as the earth, although I will do what my friends advise me to do. I once thought that I was the only man that persevered to be the friend of the white man, but since they have come and cleaned out our lodges, horses, and everything else, it is hard for me to believe white men any more.” – Motovato (Black Kettle)

But now, I’m officially over it. I need my wife back.

She flies in the 23rd, just in time for Christmas, and I must say this is the most excited for Christmas I’ve been in a long time. Already I’m dreaming about which coffee shop to take her to first, which markets to go to, looking at the Sydney festival and seeing if we should go to any gigs together. I’m clearing space out in our room for her clothes, and telling about every one who will listen that my wife is coming home soon.

All this anticipation, this waiting has really given me a greater appreciation for Christmas in a way. That longing for Christ to enter our world, our life and make this world whole. Perhaps clearing out the parts of our life that are cluttered and overfilled. Making room, for our spouse, our holy partner to come and reside with us.

As much as Christmas is a looking back it is also a looking forward, for when the bride and bridegroom are finally reunited in the flesh. I want to ache for that like a do for Rachel. The world waited for a baby, who set things in motion to right the world. Then he left. And we wait, and hope, and long for his advent. The last great advent, where angels will rejoice, the poor and outcast will shout for joy, the earth will cease it’s groaning and be renewed, and the bride and the bridgroom will cleave to each other and no power shall be able to seperate.

We whisper, “come”.

“Oh my gosh, I know me too.”

Normally walking past this unmistakably loud, overly enthusiastic American interchange, in the midst of a crowded international hub would make me slightly cringe as I would cling tightly to my Australian half and passport but not today.

It might sound like a welcome change to be in a hot climate in the middle of the Christmas season but let it be said, for better or for worse; no one does Christmas quite like the USA. Seeing as most of my Christmases have been spent there as my mom is American and being the longest holiday on the Australian calendar, as it’s summer, many of my Christmases as a child were spent there too visiting family. Not to mention all the movies and Christmas paraphernalia revolve around a white Christmas. Being in London for the lead up to Christmas is really special for me because this will be the 5^th Christmas in a row of Christmas in summer. Drinking mulled wine, doing Christmas baking, ice skating and yes even eating chestnuts roasted on an open fire all seem slightly more enjoyable when the weather isn’t 30+ degrees (85+ – ish degrees F).

While these are all wonderful things about Christmas, it’s also the time of year I’m the most aware I live quite far away from most of my family. It’s the time of year you can usually count on seeing ‘everyone’. As I get older (since I’m so old and wise and all), with new nieces and nephews joining the ranks it’s especially difficult  to be the ones in, the now dated, family photos that the younger kids ask about.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s your Aunt Rachel and Uncle Joel. They live far away in Australia.”

“Can we go visit?

“Yes, we have already booked the tickets.”

(That’s a hint that visitors are always welcomed and encouraged.)

In this advent season I’ve been thinking about the waiting for Jesus and reconciling myself to my neighbor and to God. There are so many things that frustrate so many about America’s international policies. I share those at times too and distance myself from this country that I called home for so many years. But just like those two Yanks in the train station, American policy, often not considering those around them as they ought, is not always representative of many Americans that I know and love. So while it’s easy to draw out the flaws in every culture, it’s more important to dwell on the positive and at Christmas time I think about America. I think God continues to reconcile me to the USA, the land of real Christmas trees, hospitality, family and yes, crispy bacon. There are many places and people in the world that I have grown to love and will continue to love but the lead up to this Christmas I will be thinking of my family and friends in the States.

Happy Advent season all and let’s all wait for Jesus the hope of the world.

I was playing nintendo as the Cold War ended. Therefore I didn’t really experience a time, where I could see some of the horrors of socialist or communist governments. Therefore when people in the States cry out about how certain socialist policies are creeping into government, I think, “yeah so? I like buying my fruit and veggies from the local co-op.” Therefore I think I must claim, that I am largely ignorant, as most of us are about most issues. But that being said I think it’s always good to ask questions.

So it seems like Americans who were in a generation above me, don’t like the idea of socialism. Reading Animal Farm was interesting because really it shows how bad socialism can be (at it’s worst) even though Orwell was a huge proponent of it himself. In this day and age where capitalism seems to be falling apart all around us, I think it’s fair for us young people to ask, “What’s so bad about socialism?” And ok maybe not, extreme socialism like the USSR or China, but what about a little socialism, like Australia and Canada? You know what the health care system over here is pretty darn good. A while back I was sick, so I called up a doctor and made an appointment to see one an hour later at a local clinic down the road. I went in, handed them my Medicare card, waited for twenty minutes, saw a doctor and was given a prescription. I took the prescription to the pharmacy next door, waited ten more minutes, paid ten dollars and went home. Am I really supposed to think this is worse than what we have in the States?

There are some ideas about socialism that are quite nice. There is more equality for the poor. More services available for everyone. Treats people like human beings regardless of what kind of person they are. There are some really nice things about capitalism too, in that there is incentive to work hard, find and create new ideas.

All I’m proposing is that a little bit of socialism might not be a bad thing. In fact there are parts of it, PARTS of it, that almost seem Biblical. Didn’t the early church share all possessions and food amongst themselves and with the poor? Didn’t God create jubilee, the great year of cancelling debts? Isn’t it God who gives the same wages whether you started working at daybreak or late in the day?

I think if the current “Occupy (your city)” has told us anything, it’s that a lot of us (and yes maybe the younger generation who granted, has had a bit easier life, and hasn’t had to work quite as hard as the generation before) are starting to think, ”There’s got to be something better than this.”

And no the answer isn’t socialism. The answer is Jesus living through the hearts and souls of his people. But I suspect that if Christians are to act like Christ would, from time to time we are going to be doing things that people might label as socialist. And again I ask, what’s so bad about that?

By the way, this really is a great book.

A few months ago I headed to the Sydney finger wharves under the shadow of the Harbour Bridge. In the tip of one of the fingers, I sat in a room as the sun glistened off the harbour through the window and I listened to three authors describe why they loved  literature and the authors who first stole their heart, as it were. Listening to them, I too was reminded of why books have meant so much to me and the authors that have defined my life.

All three of the authors on the panel had just published a book, and spent some time talking about it, and I wrote all three titles down, determined to at least buy one of them and read it, after having such on intimate connection with them.

A few weeks later I found myself in Gleebooks, on Glebe Point Rd. and I came across two of the books by the authors I had listened to, back at the festival. I thumbed through each, reading the descriptions on the back cover and the reviews on the inside pages. Holding one in each hand, I looked at the prices on the back; they were both about the same price, so no easy decision that way. Putting one down, I kept the other book, because that author had said people often compare his writing with Dickens, which is quite a statement, and a rather bold one to say about yourself, but he seemed to say in a self-deprecating way, enough at least for me to want to see if it’s true and put the other book down. However, as Rachel wasn’t with me, I spent another hour browsing the shelves and as often happens my frugality beat my vice at a slow arm-wrestle and I left with no books, wishing it didn’t take so long for the newly published to make their way to second hand bookstores.

Here I am a few months later, and the book is sitting on the couch right next to me. The corners are crisp and smooth and the pages still smell fresh and don’t stick together from layers of built-up dust. My eyes skip over the words and I think how crazy people are who buy one of those electronic book thingys, and miss out on the joys of the weight of the pages in your hand and watching your bookmark wade from cover to cover through the folds of pages.

So, I caved in after all? Nope, and here enters the hero of the story: the public library.

One day as I sat around my house, lamenting because there was nothing good on tv and I didn’t feel like reading any of the books on my shelf, I decided to see if I could find an obscure book I’d been looking for on the Marrickville council library website. I always look for books by this author when I enter bookstores and rarely ever find any, so I thought I’d see what the odds were that the library would have it.

It did have it! Not only that it had about five books that I’ve been wanting to read but haven’t come across through years of scouring used book stores.

“This is incredible,” I thought. “I wonder what else I can find on here.”

I thought back to those three authors on the panel, one of whom had won the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize a few days after the festival for the book he talked about. I looked all three up. The library had all three though they were scattered throughout Sydney at different branches.

“I wonder how hard it is to get them sent to the library down the road,” I thought.

Next to the book is a hold button. I pushed it. Next are a list of branches with boxes next to them. I click the Stanmore library branch.

It’s on hold. I was so giddy by this point I went into a holding frenzy, finding book after book and organising a massive migration of paper and binding to be sent to my local library to be picked up at my earliest convenience.

For two of the books by the panelists I had to be put in a queue. “That’s annoying.” I thought. “It will probably take ages.”

A few days later I get a succint, little email telling me both of my books are in and they will be held for two weeks for pick up. It was good they actually gave me this time, because I had to hurry through the book I was currently reading.

The next Saturday morning, I woke up, ate breakfast, read the paper, drank a cup of tea, and rode my bike along the train tracks to the Stanmore library, a small structure that looks like one of those prefabricated houses that travel down the highways on the back of semi-trucks. I walked up to the counter, took out my library card, slapped it on the table (ok, I politely handed it to the man, and whispered that I had a book to collect). He looked at me smiling, and we understood each other. Amidst this crazy world, where we are buying ourselves and the world into oblivion, there is still a place that is run by trust, good will, the love of knowledge (dare I say a hint of socialism) and I think it’s one of the most fantastic places that exists.

Let’s all raise a glass, to our own local public libraries. The last stronghold of that which is good and decent in this world.

Oh, and they have movies too.

Life here has been quite amazing. I have tried to suck the marrow out of my time here by visiting galleries, seeing live music, going to the theatre, spending evenings dancing and having drinks with friends new and old. I’ve just started going to church close by and I’ve joined a small group. There are about nine of us in the group and I think one person is actually from London. I think that’s one of the amazing things about this city. It’s a town full of people from ‘somewhere else’. Something I’ve learned from all my moving around is that immigrants tend to see their differences as a commonality among each other and it bonds us together. So I’ve felt a love not only for this city but am making good friendships with fellow immigrants.

This blog was mostly to break the ice of non-blogging so I’m going to try and be more regular with these from now on but for now, here are a few photos. (to see more check out my Facebook)

-Rachel

I just don’t get it. Why are a majority of Christians so against action on climate change? I doesn’t even seem to be a biblical thing. In fact the Bible seems to support climate change. Those of us from evangelical backgrounds were implanted with the belief that the world is going to end, maybe in our lifetime. There were going to be famines, droughts, earthquakes, all kinds of crazy natural disasters. Granted some of this may be more based off those darn Left Behind books than the Bible, but some of it’s still in there. It just seems like if that is the view you take (which it seems like most Christians take) then climate change is a sign of the times.

I mean, doesn’t it make perfect sense that in the obvious irony of our world, when God leaves us to our own devices, we are actually the ones that destroy ourselves? Yet many Christians are adamant that this isn’t happening. I saw one on tv just the other day. I just don’t get it; it fits in with their theology.

Climate change skeptics are in a class of their own, but I guess there’s another group of people who think it’s not human made thus there is nothing we can do to stop it- therefore why engage in it.

Here’s why I think we should. First off let me quickly breeze through the idea that we are stewards of the earth and God told us to care about it, because that doesn’t really seem to be enough motivation for anyone. It’s a nice idea, but are we going to make drastic decisions because of it? I doubt it, regardless of the fact if it really is a good enough reason.

The reason why we should care about climate change is because if we do nothing we are failing to follow God’s number two commandment-Love you neighbor as yourself (and thus the number one as well). Climate change affects people-mainly the poor, and God says a lot about helping the poor, especially when you are the one who is in the wrong (western world carbon emmissions).

How is it affecting the poor? People in Bangladesh have become climate refugees from rising water levels, forced to leave their homes and their sources of livelihood. Rising sea levels have caused some land in pacific islands to become impossible for growing food due to rising levels of salt in the soil. Then there’s the drought in East Africa, the worst they’ve seen in decades with thousands upon thousands fleeing with children in tow, starving along the way. Rain is not predicted to fall for a few more months even.

That’s something my eyes have opened to through working at Oxfam. Climate change isn’t a greenie idea just for hippies and liberals. It’s a issue of human compassion. Please Christians, it’s time to re-evaluate which side we’re on. Whether it’s a carbon tax in Australia, green energy in the States or just riding a bike instead of a car these are small prices to pay for the destruction we are creating in the world. Because it’s literally killing people.

That passionate plea is the Rachel in me. Now the Joel in me will add one more thing. I acknowledge this is a serious enough thing to get angry about, but not unloving. I really want to understand why Christians are so resistant to this in a effort to understand. If you disagree I really want to know why and am always open to the possibility that I don’t get something completely.

Any thoughts?

Well that’s only about half true. It’s not true that we think we’ve been in Sydney long enough (we love it here) but it is true that I’m moving to London. It’s also not true that ‘we’ are moving but I (Rachel) will be flying solo to the land or Cream Tea and Sheep. It’s not true that I’m leaving in a few days, I’m actually leaving in a couple of days.  For those that know us this sudden huge life desicion will probably not come as a shock to you. In the four years we’ve been married we’ve really packed in the huge life events and moves, we had to do something this year, gotta keep things interesting.

The reason for the move is really because I have accepted a 6 month internship with Amnesty International at their International Secretariats headquarters in London. I will be working with the Advocacy team and will help write submissions to the UN. As part of my time there, they are going to fly me to Geneva to work out of their office there at the UN, for a week. This is really my dream job. I found out I was given the internship 3 weeks ago and I leave in 2 days, so there hasn’t been much time for preparation but I am so thankful for this open door that God has given me. I am getting internship credit through my Law school and plan on continuing at UNSW when I return. I just wanted to write a quick update of what is happening in my life.

So I fly out Wednesday, my passport came back with my visa last Thursday morning bought my ticket that afternoon. I don’t have permanent lodging yet. But I am trusting that it will happen at the perfect time. I suppose one of the great by products of being an urban bedouin is that with each move you make and with each time God provides in amazing ways, your faith grows that little bit more. Don’t get me wrong, I still worry a little but I’m pretty at peace too.

I’d like to say something about what Joel has shown me. I always knew that Joel was an exceptional and very supportive man but he has really blown me away through all of this. When I was first offered this opportunity, I hesitated because of the 6 months we would have to spend apart. At one point I said, “this is my dream job” and as soon as those words left my mouth Joel said, “that’s it, you have to do this.” The way he talks about this time for me with such excitement and enthusiasm really shows me how much he loves and respects me and what God has called me to do in life. Through Joel I can see more and more each day God’s sacrificial and selfless love for me. This is such a wonderful gift.

Anyway I’ve been learning some interesting things about these stories that we as children hold so dear. We often just know the Disney version, but the real stories are far more disturbing. I thought I’d share a few interesting nuggets.

Hansel and Gretel- Their parents were poor and starving and they decided to take their children to the woods and lose them so the little ones would die and no longer be a burden on them, but that darn Hansel kept finding his way back with his ingenious crumbs. They parents dump them in the woods a few times.

Rapunzel- She was kept in a tower by a witch who actually loved her like a daughter. It was the witch who asked her to throw her hair down so she could climb up into the tower. The “prince” pretended to be the witch in order to fool her in letting her hair down. A few weeks later Rapunzel is pregnant. Hmmm….

Cinderella- There actually were three balls. Cinderella snuck into all three with no help of a fairy Godmother (though she did get help from some animal friends. Disney got that part right). The night of the last ball the prince puts tar on the steps so Cinderalla’s GOLDEN slipper sticks. When the prince goes to her house, her stepsister cuts off her toe in order to fit it in the shoe. They announce a wedding until the Prince notices the blood. He has Cinderalla try on the golden shoe and when it fits some birds sing a song about how there is no blood.

The Frog Prince- A princess loses her golden ball in a lake and has a hissy fit. A frog goes in and gets it for her after she promises to marry him if he does. They get married, but the princess is reluctant to fulfill her wifely obligations to a frog, but her father forces her to because of her promise. As the frog snuggles up beside her in bed she gets repulsed and throws him across the room. He hits the wall and becomes a prince. And the moral is?

Sleeping Beauty- This was pretty close to what we imagine. Except that when she pricks her finger both she and the whole kingdom go to sleep for a hundred years. When the hundred years are up a prince comes to a castle overgrown with thorns. They magically turn into flowers and everyone wakes up. A bit anti-climactic.

Well that’s just a taste. There are some far more disturbing tales. One is about a sorcerer who seduces three sisters and cuts them up into little pieces. In another one a witch is put naked into a barrel with spikes and nails on the inside and she is dragged behind a horse with the whole town cheering. Not exactly things you want to read to your child before you put them in bed. A lot of them don’t even have good morals. Many of the stories are about taking revenge or fooling people for money.

I think I like these stories for two reasons. Firstly, they are fascinating cultural studies. The Grimm Brothers were actually academic linguists, both doctors I believe. They gathered their stories from a cross-section of German society, but many of their story tellers were from the upper class. Maybe that’s why the morals in them are actually quick shocking. Originally they weren’t even for children, they were just stories that were passed on. When the Grimm brothers first published their first collection of stories they found many of the elements seemed to resonate with children. Over time the stories were adapted by others, like Perrault who made them more child-friendly and infused them with more clear moral values. I do think it’s interesting reading them in their original form and particularly how we get a glimpse into the values of an older society and culture. I think that is true for “fairy tales” in whatever culture they come from.

Secondly, I like these stories because like children, I think I am drawn to the magical element that is involved. I love that idea that there is another reality beyond what we see and touch every day. I’ve spoken with my younger brother about this before, but there is something about picturing a little tudor cabin nestled into some woods that just evokes something inside of me. The words, “Once upon a time,” speak of the hope of a different reality beyond our life or cities and cars and 9-5s.

I know there are those of you out there who have a hard time making that connection. I should know because I married one of them:) But for those who do understand, I will quote the words of a German poet Novalis:

“Our life is no dream, but it ought to become one…and perhaps will.”