ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

Available for over a year

At the last count around 500 young Britons have travelled to Syria to fight in the civil war. In recent days some parents of these fighters have been speaking about the way they believe their sons have been radicalised by imams in mosques or in the community. Many of these allegations have been denied. Yet it’s a familiar story-line: apparently comfortable lives, extreme ideology, violent and passionate indoctrination, bewildered parents. What makes a preacher want to send young men to probable death, fanning the flames of conflict, spreading a message of division and hatred? I can’t speak for Islam, but, as a preacher and religious leader myself, I’ve certainly been in settings where the rhetoric is sweaty, the language emotive, the heart aroused, and the critical faculties suspended. There’s real power for the listener in hearing someone speak of the things no one talks about – about what’s worth dying for, what we were put on this earth to do, which things we should truly shape our lives around. When these deep questions are interlaced with intimate stories of love and betrayal, of hope discovered and faith unveiled, it can make for an intoxicating cocktail of longing and desire, and the meeting of a profound hunger. Why else would you go to fight in Syria, except out of some sense of deep duty, greater glory, and a larger story than the bland ordinariness of life in Britain? I’ve stood in front of two thousand people, all craving the next word. It’s good for the adrenalin, the ego, the sense that your life matters. It’s easy to forget the trust involved, the dangers at hand. When your biggest worry in ministry is failure and irrelevance, it’s thrilling to realise people really care and your words truly matter. Despite our society’s attempts to ignore, patronise or discredit religion, there’s no eradicating our deepest needs, fears and longings, and our thirst for someone to speak into them. If clergy do damage in our society it’s less through reckless use of intoxicating power than through ignorance of the power they truly have. The apostle Paul had some advice on how to test your words before you speak them. He suggested nine qualifications before you commit your words to speech: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. It’s great to have charisma, it’s exciting to dazzle a crowd with words, with passion, with vision, with courage and destiny, with power and glory. But before you open your mouth, you need to ask yourself, Is this really about joy? Is this instilling patience, and gentleness? If I’m speaking the truth, do I need to shout?