19th February 2024
As I walk over Westminster Bridge just before seven, I see twelve cormorants swoop and swerve and land in the buoyant waters of the Thames.
I’ve come to relieve the night shift who all looked amazingly bright and alert! Maybe being outside for the occasional night is good for us – a bit like the tradition of putting babies outside to sleep in their prams.
Monday morning and these are the going to work hours. The flow of pedestrians (from right to left) comes in rushes as, presumably, the pedestrian crossing upstream turns green. So many people pass by. A few do give a nod or a smile but hundreds don’t. Do they notice us? Or are we blanked out along with so much else that we ignore in order to manage our hectic pace of life? But I notice two passers-by whom I had seen earlier in the week – one who slated us about the futility of prayer; the other who had prayed with us. So maybe it is distraction not disinterest.
From across the street a man shouts an inaudible greeting that could be positive or negative. He weaves his way through the traffic and lands in front of us.
‘Do we want a cigarette? No? Well can he sit down – he’s tired.’
There’s an empty chair so we say yes. He half talks to us and half talks to passers-by shouting out greetings with a ribald feel.
We’re praying we explain. We’re not ignoring him but praying is what we’re doing here.
After a few more minutes he lurches to his feet, leaves and then swings back to give us a final piece of advice.
We continue to pray. Across the Square the trees stand clear and upright but less shiny than they were in the rain.
A smart business man, briefcase in hand, pauses to read the sign. He’s the business side of what we’re doing. Money is the solution to the climate crisis. His company redirects the massive sums of finance needed to boost renewable energy. He advises other companies, knows the people one needs to know. He’s on first name terms with the head of the Church of England’s investment board.
I venture that CCA has been active in encouraging charities and dioceses to switch from Barclays. ‘Why ever so? They have just announced they will not be funding new oil and gas.’
‘Is it that clear cut? They’re still providing a lot of funds for the oil and gas industries.’
‘XR don’t understand. We need oil and gas to keep people supplied with cheap energy in the interim. We can’t just stop investing in oil and gas – you need to invest to continue to the extraction from developing wells. Here, take my business card.’
Earlier the bells at Westminster Abbey chimed in anticipation of the 8 o’ clock prayers. Now they sound for the 10 o’ clock prayers. After I have gone, they will ring again for the noonday service. There are, I think, more services on a week day than a Sunday.
I welcome Michelle who is taking the next hour, gather myself up and walk back over Westminster Bridge now heaving with tourists.
8.00pm for the evening shift. The departing crew are numerous including four from one church -I’m impressed: I’m the only one from my church and I’m a given.
I settle into place tucking my feet under my prayer stool and my hands into my gloves. The banner and thus our place of gathering has shifted. Now I’m facing a tall lamppost. At the top is a round bright line that suggests the moon brightly glowing. But I look up into the clear sky above and there is the genuine thing – serene and surreal, nothing can match her beauty!
On the banner before me are two nightlights their flames gently flickering in jam jars. I’m alone for the first hour – they keep me company, whilst across the Square my other faithful companions remain resolute in their isolation.
Your kingdom come – what were Mandela and Gandhi and Fawcett trying to establish? The right of self determination for the poor and marginalised. For their freedom to live as equally and as comfortably as those with power. For justice.
Evening is the hour of the car. No construction vehicles and work trucks now. Instead fast and expensive cars glide effortlessly around the Square, their sleek outlines contrasting with the workaday shapes of the double decker bus and the London cabs.
We have created a kingdom where the car rules supreme – the pinnacle of a achievement. A luxury self contained capsule where in quiet and ease we can travel oblivious to the troubled lives of others.
Hot of foot Daniel joins me. He is soon drawn down into the other world of the vigil. Here in the edge of the Square we’re not part of the stream of human life that trickles and flows through the Square. We’re not part of the traffic that flows in, and round, and out. We’re part of the infrastructure – living stones – of the Square.
Evening is the hour of entertainment. Those walking by do so with a leisurely gait – hand in hand or laughing. Night tour buses and rickshaw bicycles bedecked with lights loop the Square. One bus is a travelling restaurant serving haute cuisine.
Not everyone’s entertainment has been so refined. Roy is certainly under the influence of something other than fines wine. His clothes too are street weary. He wants to talk, to express his support for what we are doing. His body can’t keep still and his words won’t come out straight. Swear words slip in unbidden – he knows they will but he’s also apologetic. He tries to divert his conversation to the police on gate duty but the wrong words come out – expressions of pent up feelings. He pulses his body together and his feet waver off down the street.
Your kingdom come – what would that look like for Roy? A place where is respected and valued, where his needs are fully furnished not approximated, where he can be free of addiction.
Gentle quiet Esther joins us. The vigil accentuates calmness in those who participate, but some people have it with them always.
The news is full of fighting and the threat of fighting. Your kingdom come – what would it look like in Gaza? In Israel?
Evening is the end of the working day in Parliament. They exit in ones or twos – slightly weary, heading home – or as small groups full of cheer and camaraderie – a good meeting or meal, a successful day! These are mostly young things – political interns or policy makers?
For other Parliamentarians (the more senior ones?) journey home is motorised: the police open and close the heavy metal inner and outer gates that guard the driveway, allowing these solid heavyweight vehicles to slip quietly out before powering off down the street. Others come out wheeling their bikes. Then swinging over a leg, they pedal off into the night.
The night shift arrives equipped with sleeping bags and warm clothes! It’s time for me to move, to unbend my legs, flatten my feet and stretch out my toes.
The Green Tau 