Strange People

Today I am due to speak at a women's group in my little church in Amlwch, Anglesey, Wales. The subject is "Pendleside Tales". The reason for the title is that I grew up in a small industrial town called Nelson in the shadow of Pendle Hill. The hill is just about the most obvious geographical feature in the countryside because of its shape. Whenever you visit the area you cannot fail to notice it. It is, for people who live close to it, a perfect beacon for homecoming.

In the 17th century there was a famous tale (true) about the "Pendle Witches". They were members of two poor families who were so simple minded that they would admit to being witches for the excitement of publicity. Their names, or nicknames, were comical, one was called Chattox, another Old Mother Demdyke, and another Squinting Lizzie because one eye looked up and the other looked down. But local people still preferred to believe in witchcraft and picked them out as witches. A local magistrate questioned them without witnesses and sent them for trial to Lancaster Castle where they were found guilty. A number of them died in prison and others were hanged.

Isn't it interesting to see how, even today, people who are different get singled out and laughed at unfairly. This is something that never changes throughout the generations. When I was at school we had a boy called Ian who was obviously different with some learning difficulties. To our shame, we used to gather round him in the schoolyard and make fun of him. Children can be very cruel to each other. Another case was of a man called John who walked, dragging one leg behind him. He too attracted the attention and mockery of the local youth. Whilst on holiday we witnessed a young Greek boy intimidating an elderly man because of his mental incapacity.

Of course it all boils down to fear and self protection. We are afraid of what we do not understand. This applies to racism as well. Most people have no idea what life is like in a Muslim household, for instance. Why? Because they have never asked. As a former trade union branch secretary I got to know a few Muslim members and their families. As a result I know a lot about their life and traditions. But most people do not ask the questions because of fear, and this leads to a continuation of a general lack of understanding.

Yet, we Christians maintain that God made us all, and because of this we are all precious. So there is a lot to be done to get to know our neighbour. We have to push the boat out and make friends of everyone. Back in the 1970s I met an Indian family and invited them back to our house the following Sunday. My wife was not at all sure about doing this. We all became firm friends and had a lot of fun together whilst we lived in that area. In 1995 I found myself jobless. The best, most encouraging friend I made in this period was Hamid Rasheed, a Muslim man who was also job seeking. The way he helped me was amazing and we are still friends today.

Hamid calls me "holyman". One day I rode in his car and the engine sounded dreadful and in need of servicing. I serviced the car and he was amazed at the difference I made to it. He went about telling people "my holyman has blessed my car!" A dear friend, he continues to support me and often talks about how tiny is the difference between our two religions when all the excess baggage is tripped away.

We are all God's children, wherever our roots may be. "He loves each one of us as if there were only one of us to love" said St Augustine. How true this is. Recognising this we should close up and get to know one another. It might be the catylist of a great friendship.