大象传媒

Ruth Scott, Anglican Priest and Quaker:

Some years ago I cycled with a group of Jews and Christians from Rome to Jerusalem. During the second week we were pedalling through the mountains of northern Greece. One morning we started out above the snow line, slithered down the mountain, then up and down the next two until 6o kms later we came to a plateau and - hooray! - a flat bit of road.

My relief was short-lived because, at that point, we ran into a head wind. I was all but done in by the mountainous route we鈥檇 travelled thus far and, struggling against the wind, I hit my psychological wall. I was unsure I鈥檇 make it to our lunch stop another 30 kms further on. Thankfully, one of my fellow cyclists saw I was flagging and tucked his bike in front of mine with the words, 鈥淩ide in my slipstream.鈥� While he pedalled hard, his body cut down the wind resistance for me so I was able to alternately freewheel and cycle easily at his back until I鈥檇 recovered sufficiently to manage on my own.

I love the image of restorative slipstreams. Over the years many people have provided such spaces for me. They鈥檝e helped me develop resilience when the going gets tough physically, psychologically or spiritually, giving me a breathing space so I can collect myself enough to carry on. On reflection, I鈥檝e also been glad of the courageous people who cared enough about my well-being to sometimes act as a head wind, making it hard for me to follow ultimately self-destructive routes. Their words or actions caused me to slow down and think through the consequences of what I wanted to do.

I鈥檓 also inspired by people who stand in the way of men and women whose planned course of action is destructive to others. In the gospels, Jesus acts both as a slipstream for folk struggling to get by, and as a head wind challenging others who make life even harder for them. In the light of his example and my own experience, I find it helpful sometimes to ask whether, in caring for others, I need to be a slipstream or a head wind.聽聽聽聽