To be read out at all Masses
Sunday 5 September 2004
My dear brothers and sisters in the diocese
Sitting here at my computer, writing this letter, I'm tapping into one of the most complex and enormous information systems imaginable. I don't mean the computer, of course. I mean the human brain.
In front of the screen, I'm retrieving just a tiny part of the information that's been stored in my brain over the past fifty plus years. The bits that I'm using just now are some of the most basic information and intelligence that I have stored away. I'm using the things I learned very early on about communication, how to write and be listened to. You are also using that information as you try and make sense of what I am saying.
One thing you can do when you store information in a computer is to decide where it goes. You put it in a file marked 'personal letters' or 'housekeeping' or 'appointments' or any other place you'll remember to look in when you want it again. The brain doesn't do that, but seems to store information randomly, and retain lots of information that will be of no real use again. I'm pleased that my brain has retained the directions to Warlingham parish and Bexhill onSea (to name but two), but I don't think I'll ever really need to recall Sandie Shaw singing Puppet on a String (especially because I think she's off key as she sings). The first reading today, from the Book of Wisdom. talks about "the teeming mind".
So where did I get all this information? It's a bit like the question the doctors in the Temple ask when Jesus begins teaching there 'Where did he get all this?"
I think that I would have to file my learning under four broad headings: one is 'miscellaneous' and covers information that I've picked up from all sorts of random sources, including books and television. Another is 'school', where my formal education began and where I learned in a systematic way. I would also put 'church' there, because a part of what forms my worldview does come from my faith. But the first of the files is 'family'. That is where my learning began. I said at the beginning of this letter that I was using some of the first information I ever acquired, the ability to communicate. Even before I could speak, I knew how to make my needs known. I cried. Later on I learned how to control and use that (if crying doesn't work, throw a tantrum, especially in a public place like the supermarket. That gets you noticed. And your parents as well). I also learned to interpret signals from other people, and I began to learn what it felt like to be loved, even if I didn't recognise it at the time. Some people learn rejection and isolation at this early stage, too. The family is the first place we begin to learn, and the first lessons are in communication.
You're being invited to take part in another project. This one doesn't have the word 'together' in the title and it's not an initiative from the diocese. This one is a national project and all the dioceses of England & Wales are taking part.
The first stage is called a 'Listening Fortnight' and you're asked to get together in groups and discuss the content of a questionnaire that will be supplied to you. The questionnaire is quite short and the questions fairly simple. You could even meet in informal groups after Sunday Mass to talk about it. You may like to reflect on the questionnaire yourself and send it in to DABCEC. This will lead up to what will be our Diocesan Conversation Day at Crawley on Saturday, 27 November. Bishop John Hine of the Bishops' Committee for Marriage and Family Life will come to that.
So what's it all for? What it's NOT for is some great national celebration. There is no competition to find the model family and give them a prize. It's more of an awareness raising exercise. We might be tempted to think that when we speak of 'family' that we all know what we mean, and that we mean the same thing. But I suspect that, of all the things that have changed in our society over the past 40 years, the family may have changed more than anything else except communication. So this exercise is a bit like the Gathering Together programme that looked at what we understood by and wanted from the parish. It is part of a conversation, an exchange of experiences and views, so that as Church we might have a clearer idea of what 'family' means today. It also means that we might be better able to celebrate what 'family' means and the way it enriches people's lives.
When I wrote to you in June, I mentioned the variety of shapes and sizes that families come in. One thing that's common to many families, however, is that they span three or even four generations. I said at the beginning of this letter that the first lesson we learn in the family is the basic human need to communicate. When we speak and listen to one another, especially across the generations, we can find that we have a lot to learn from one another. An older generation can learn what interests and inspires young people; young people can sometimes be surprised by the wisdom and experience of an older generation Lourdes in July was a good place to see this at work.
Come along and find out how other people see things. Talk to people about how it feels to be part of a family these days, especially if you are either bringing a family up or indeed being brought up in a family. It's part of a conversation. It's not a survey. It's not a competition. It's an invitation to communicate with one another.
With my best wishes and prayers for the family of this diocese of Arundel & Brighton.
For more information abut Listening 2004 click here
Rt. Rev. Kieran Conry
Bishop of Arundel and Brighton
