Month: June 2024

Lamentations 3.22-33, Psalm 30, Mark 5.21-43

The Fifth Sunday of Trinity, 30 June 2024, Austwick (Benefice Service)

 

 

People have different ways of dealing with illness. When his daughter fell ill, Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, a powerful and well-connected man, set about exerting all his influence to identify the best healer in the land, and, having found Jesus, then used his privilege to get quick access to him: you can imagine the crowds parting as Jairus’s group of minders forced themselves through towards Jesus, shoving people out of the way, saying, ‘Let the leader pass’. 

For the haemorrhaging woman, there was no quick fix to her problem, for, lacking any influence,  the only hope she had left was to find some way to get to this popular healer. Imagine her struggle, this anaemic woman, squeezing her way through the seething crowd, weak and ailing though she was, trying – like they all were – to get close enough to Jesus to reach out for his healing.

How people get treatment for their illness depends on their circumstances. We might compare Jairus with King Charles in the London Clinic, and the haemorrhaging woman with Charlene Armitage, a Bradford care assistant, on the NHS waiting list, three months in and counting. [1]

But whatever our means or position on the line of privilege, when poor health hits us it is a common experience, something we all share. It is like that old scripture, which both Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman would have known, and possibly Charles and Charlene also know, that line from Psalm 30 which says, “Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning”. 

It was out of heaviness, and driven by hope, that both Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman sought the help of Jesus. Consider Jairus, a man who usually had servants fall at his feet, all of a sudden  prostrating himself before Jesus, and begging him ‘repeatedly’ to come and heal his ailing daughter; by contrast there was the twelve years – four and a half thousand nights – of heaviness which drove the woman’s desperate plunge into the crowd. Two people of very different means, reaching Jesus in very different ways; but they were united by the struggle and the hope they had in common.

Now this is a crucial point, both in understanding Mark’s treatment of their stories, and in understanding our own times. Our health is both a private matter and a shared public experience. The health of each of us is connected to the health of all.

In Mark’s narrative, every detail is there for a reason, and Mark’s “aside” that the girl was twelve years old is a case in point. She has lived her twelve years in an affluent family, and is just on the edge of puberty. In contrast, the bleeding woman had suffered for twelve years, permanently infertile. 

The number twelve is important, for it symbolises the twelve tribes of Israel, and this is the key to the social meaning of this story. This, and the way that both women are described as “daughters”. Jairus’ daughter and the woman who Jesus calls ‘Daughter’. 

Within the “family” of Israel, these “daughters” represent the privileged and the impoverished, respectively. There is inequity between them, which weakens the whole body politic. For when one suffers, all suffer. The whole heaving crowd seek out Jesus’ healing. And on the healing journey which Jesus makes towards the house where Jairus’ daughter lays,  he first listens to the pain of the crowd. [2]

It is remarkable that through all that pain, all those cries for help, Jesus stops for this one woman who has used up all of her money, only to have been made worse by the doctors. He doesn’t stop to heal her, really; she has taken the faith initiative to healing by simply touching the hem of his garment. She is already healed when Jesus nevertheless pauses to notice, and to listen to her whole story. Even more important, Jesus then specifically names her inclusion into God’s family. “Daughter,” he says to her, “your faith has made you well.” “Daughter.” Meanwhile, Jairus’ daughter has died. While Jesus paused to listen to this nameless, penniless, unclean woman, the daughter of this important, named leader of the synagogue has died. Isn’t there a scandal here? In a society of winners and losers, Jairus’ daughter clearly should have come first, and this woman second. But Jesus lets her interrupt his mission of healing. She is not just some loser by comparison, but in fact is every bit as much of a “daughter” as is the daughter of this important official. Jesus does not get caught up in the usual human games of winners and losers. [3]

Mark’s message is that only when the outcast woman is restored to true “daughterhood” can the daughter of the synagogue be restored to true life. That is the faith the privileged must learn from the poor. [4]

That the “last will be first” and the “least will be greatest” are not clumsy statements of class war. They are affirmations of God’s truth that the healing of the whole body politic, the healing of us all, will come when society attends first to the needs of the poorest. 

And this truth of God is supported by well-tested research which confirms that greater equality can lead to a more cohesive and stable society, with better outcomes for everyone, regardless of income; and that by contrast, more unequal societies are characterised by greater stress, insecurity, and competition, which can have a negative impact on the health and well-being of all. [5]

It is not always easy for the comfortably off to attend to the needs of the poor. It may be less easier still when paying such attention leads them to the uncomfortable conclusion that they may have to step back in some way to allow others to step up. But the gospel is that those who accept this challenge and take this leap of faith find themselves contributing to a better life for all.

Taylor Swift’s donations to foodbanks in every UK city she plays on tour this year, have been described by the recipients as “making a lasting impact”. Her generosity may do nothing to reverse the political decisions which have made three million people dependent on foodbanks; but it does modestly reduce the gap between her, in her great wealth, and those she helps; lifts some heaviness and brings some joy into these places; and passes on to her millions of young followers, her firmly embedded values of empathy and altruism. [6]

“Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” – these words from Psalm 30 were sung at the dedication of the temple. Which was a new beginning, and an occasion of celebration, for the entire nation. 

Look again at the Psalm, and you will see that it is the testimony of a man who has renounced his privilege, having realised how it had led him down into a dead end of selfish pride, and who, by divine grace, has rediscovered his vocation as one who lives to give expression to the healing, restorative, ways of God. [7] 

 

Notes

[1] Sean Coughlan, King Charles in hospital for prostate treatment. BBC News, 26 January 2024. Charlene Armitage is a fiction based on factual reports that “Only 64.1% of patients started treatment within 62 days of cancer being suspected, meaning nearly 100,000 waited longer than they should for life-saving care.” Nick Triggle, Cancer waiting times in 2023 worst on record in England. BBC News, 8 February 2024.

[2] Ched Myers, Marie Dennis, Joseph Nangle, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, and Stuart Taylor, “Say to This Mountain”: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, chapter 7, “The Priority and Power of the Poor.” in Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.

[3] Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.

[4] Ched Myers, Marie Dennis, Joseph Nangle, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, and Stuart Taylor, “Say to This Mountain”: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, chapter 7, “The Priority and Power of the Poor.” in Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.

[5] Kate Pickett and Richard Wilkinson, The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone.

[6] Wikipedia: Taylor Swift: Philanthropy; Catherine Shuttleworth, Taylor Swift thanked for making “lasting impact” with Edinburgh food bank donation. Indy100, 12 June 2024

[7] Psalm 30.

Job 38.1-11, Mark 4.35-41

The Fourth Sunday of Trinity, 23 June 2024

Austwick, Clapham, Keasden

 

You may know the expression Not Waving but Drowning. It is one of those phrases from literature which has made it into our everyday language. It comes from a 1957  poem by Stevie Smith, and here it is in full:

Nobody heard him, the dead man,   

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought   

And not waving but drowning.

 

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   

They said.

 

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   

(Still the dead one lay moaning)   

I was much too far out all my life   

And not waving but drowning. [1]

 

A prayer today for those who spend all their lives much too far out for safety or comfort or well-being; and whose stories – if they are ever heard – get dismissed as being mere waving, when in truth they might be drowning.

A prayer for those who work far out at sea in vulnerable conditions and lonely situations, in an industry noted for its poor standards of care. 

Lord, when we hear Gabriel, a Pilipino seafarer aboard a Liberian-flagged supramax cargo ship in Australian waters, tell us they have no food or toiletries aboard, as the ship’s Bulgarian owners have again not re-provisioned their vessel; when he tells us their cabins lack air-conditioning and they can’t sleep in sweltering overnight conditions; when he speaks of their having been unpaid for months and of being repeatedly denied shore leave – Lord, when seafarers call for the world to pay attention to their plight – though some may say they are just waving, Lord, do you care they may be drowning? [2] 

Do we dare to hear the prayers they sing?

Lord, who cares if they are perishing? [3]

A prayer for those who struggle with poor health, disability, and the poverty which accompanies these things.

Lord, when we hear Steph, a young woman whose complex health condition means she is always exhausted and in pain, tell us that she and others like her are disabled not by being impaired or different, but by barriers which society puts up: physical barriers, like buildings with no accessible toilets; the barriers caused by people’s attitudes, like assuming Steph can’t do certain things which in fact they can; the barriers caused by legislation which puts disabled people into poverty – Lord, when Steph appears with other disability campaigners to focus attention on these things – though some may say they are just waving, Lord, do you care they may be drowning? [4]

Do we dare to hear the prayers they sing?

Lord, who cares if they are perishing? 

And lastly, a prayer for our country’s 18-24 year olds in the week when two-thirds of them did not register to vote; a prayer for these 4.3 million of our young people, many of whom have tried but failed to find any party who will represent them.

Lord, when we hear Lauren and William describe feeling excluded by a process which allows their gran to use her old person’s bus pass as voter ID, but not their young person’s student card; when they speak about the unaffordable high rents which makes them think they’ll never leave their parents’ homes; when they decry the low wages and poor conditions of service in the meagre jobs available to them; and when they fail to hear any discussion of the most momentous issue of our time, which most affects their future: climate change; Lord – when Lauren and William and other young adults take to the streets outside their campuses protesting high tuition fees, though some may say they are just waving, Lord, do you care they may be drowning? [5]

Do we dare to hear the prayers they sing?

Lord, who cares if they are perishing? 

[Silence]

The stormy wind arose and lifted up the waves of the sea.

They were carried up to the heavens and down again to the deep; 

their soul melted away in their peril. 

They reeled and staggered like a drunkard and were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,  

and he brought them out of their distress.

He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were calmed.

Then were they glad because they were at rest,  

and he brought them to the haven they desired. [6]

Whether we picture ourselves as standing on the shore watching those far out who we see waving, troubled that they may be drowning, fearful for their safety; or whether we, in our own plight, feel ourselves to be struggling out at sea, in need of rescue:

Through the wind and waves, Jesus calls: 

“Peace, be still! Friends, are you all still afraid? Is your faith still so small?”

We are glad when our seas go calm. 

God, guide us all, to our safe haven. [7]

 

Notes

[1] Stevie Smith, “Not Waving but Drowning” from Stevie Smith, Collected Poems of Stevie Smith.

[2] Sam Chambers, ITF highlights Bulgarian ‘ship of shame’. Splash247 Maritime and Offshore News, 7 May 2024; The Nautilus International Social Conditions Survey Report [PDF]. 14 March 2022.

[3] The refrain throughout this sermon is from Pastor Joel S Neubauer, Some Went Down to the Sea, version of Psalm 107, original text adapted from the ELW psalter with original tune, YouTube, 15 June 2021.

[4] Stef Benstead, About Me, Second Class Citizens; Scope, Disability Equality Charity: Social Model of Disability.

[5] Michael Savage and Aneesa Ahmed, Disaffection among young UK voters fuelling growth of smaller parties. Observer, 16 June 2024.

[6] Psalm 107.25-30.

[7] Pastor Joel S Neubauer, Some Went Down to the Sea, version of Psalm 107, original text adapted from the ELW psalter with original tune, YouTube, 15 June 2021.

 

“Some Went Down to the Sea”

Prayer and song for God, original text adapted from the ELW psalter with original tune Pastor Joel S Neubauer, YouTube 15 June 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VODlmwcL9ug

 

Some went down to the sea in ships, “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

working away across ocean depths. “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

God spoke up and the wind arose, “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

troubled the waters, heaven close. “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

Breathe the sky till we drown below; “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

souls sink away in peril. Oh! “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

Cried to the Lord under duress, “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

“Deliver us in our distress!” “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

Wind and wave! Jesus call: 

“Peace, be still!” Friends, are y’all 

still afraid? Is your faith still so small?

 

Roar of a storm to a whisper stilled, “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

quiet the waves that would have killed. “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

They were glad when the sea went calm. “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

God, guide us, Lord, to harbour home. “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

For your love, let us thank you, Lord, “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

safekeeping grace upon us poured. “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

Who is this that the wind obeys? “Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

Who dances on the waters’ praise? “Lord, who cares if we are perishing?”

 

Wind and wave! Jesus call: 

“Peace, be still!” Friends, are y’all 

still afraid? Is your faith still so small?

 

“Christ, I dare you hear the prayer I sing!”

“Jesus, care if we are perishing.”

Ezekiel 17.22-24, Mark 4.26-34

The Third Sunday of Trinity, 16 June 2024,

Austwick, Clapham (Easy Church), Eldroth

One day, St Francis was walking from one city to the next to acquire more members for his new religious order. He noticed on the way a multitude of birds gathering in the trees and he was inspired to preach to them. This was what he said: 

“My little sisters, many are the bonds which unite us to God. And your duty is to praise Him everywhere and always, because He has let you free to fly wherever you will, and has given you a double and threefold covering and the beautiful plumage you wear.

“Praise Him likewise for the food He provides for you without your working for it, for the songs He has taught you, for your numbers that His blessing has multiplied, for your species which He preserved in the ark of olden times, and for the realm of the air He has reserved for you.

“God sustains you without your having to reap or sow. He gives you fountains and streams to drink from, mountains and hills in which to take refuge, and tall trees in which to build your nests. Although you do not know how to sew or spin, He gives to you and your little ones the clothing you need.

“How the Creator must love you to grant you such favours! So, my sister birds, do not be ungrateful, but continually praise him who showers blessings upon you.”

The birds listened to Francis’ homily and flew away, singing in praise to their maker. Francis marvelled at their beauty and joined them in praising God. [1]

The life of St. Francis of Assisi has always fascinated people. He came from a well off family but renounced money, inheritance, and even respect to embrace poverty, prayer and obedience to God. He became a beggar who inspired a legion of others, even today. I’ve got some good friends who are Franciscans. They are among the poorest, and happiest, people I know. 

One remarkable thing about Francis is his closeness to nature. He talked to the birds, and the birds took notice of him. They stayed calm near this human being. Wild birds rarely let people approach them closely. Perhaps wisely, they normally distrust our presence. But the birds allowed Francis to come close, so close that his clothes touched them. They trusted this human being more than any other. 

Jesus said we can learn from the birds. He said, “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” 

Francis talked to the birds; and Jesus invited us to learn from them. I wonder if you think you can learn from them: and what things they can teach us. And I wonder if you talk to the birds – or other creatures. When I asked one congregation this question years ago, they shared many stories about talking with their animals, including one person’s pet, a 30+ year-old cockateel called Cocky.

Francis walked through the trees – he found the birds living in them; and Jesus also walked through the trees – he found something very profound to say about them. The apostles said to the Lord, ‘Increase our faith!’ The Lord replied, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea”, and it would obey you. Jesus seems to be saying, if you talk to the trees they will hear you and follow what you say. If you only had a tiny bit of faith. 

Now we might be inclined to keep our distance from people who talk to trees. When King Charles was a Prince who happily spoke to trees and plants and flowers, he was generally ridiculed, as are other such free spirits everywhere. Yet Jesus talked to the trees. The mulberry tree; the fig tree on the road to Jerusalem which he famously withered. And remember how Jesus reproved the wind – and it subsided; how he placated the waves – which obeyed him. 

He was simply following his Father, who, at the very beginning of time, spoke to the light – and there was light; who spoke to the waters, and the waters appeared; who spoke to the earth, and the earth formed; who spoke to the plants and the creatures, and the plants and the creatures appeared in all their variety and all their beauty. 

This speech is not a one-way conversation. Scripture is full of nature speaking back to God and to us. Ezekiel finds a cedar tree speaking to him of God’s future for Israel; Jesus finds a head of grain, a mustard seed, manifesting to him the mysteries of the kingdom of God.

We are able to appreciate that there is something good, and right, and even divine in being so close to nature that we can enter into a two-way conversation with it. 

This must be why so many of us happily talk to the animals. And listen to them. A survey in the Church Times revealed that many people pray with their pets. They are their companions in life; they share the deepest things with them, it’s natural to include them in their prayers. I know at least one person whose dog joins him for prayers each night.

A woman wrote in to the Church Times to tell about her father who was a vicar and whose three cats always followed him to Evening Prayer every day: “After he tolled the bell at 6.00 and donned his robes, they would quietly settle down: Dicky at his feet, Bill around his neck like a tabby scarf, and Mowley – well, she was more keen on checking the mouse population.” In fact only one Church Times reader wrote in to say he didn’t pray with his pet: “I don’t have to,” he said, “my pet is a praying mantis.” [2]

When Jesus told his disciples to look at the birds of the air, and consider the lilies of the field, he was encouraging them to learn from our neighbours in nature how to be trusting and open to the Creator. 

When Jesus explained the kingdom of God in terms of the mustard seed, the grain, he was demystifying God’s ways on earth, teaching us that his ways are the most natural ways. 

There is no magic formula to increase our faith. It grows the more we appreciate the creatures and trees, the closer we get to God’s good earth and the world around us. God values all of this. God is in all of these. God speaks to, and through, all of them. 

Sometimes, God wants us to listen to these, our companions in creation. 

Sometimes, God delights when we talk to them.

 

 

Note

A rewrite of I talk to the trees, editorial in Lydford Parish and Community Magazine, May 2012, and I talk to the trees (A Franciscan conversation), preached in Liverpool, 2004.

[1] Mary Kroner, Why did Saint Francis preach to the birds? Southern Nebraska Register, 30 September 2022. 

[2] Half say they pray with pets, Church Times, 1 October 2004. 

Genesis 3.8-15, Mark 3.20-35

The Second Sunday of Trinity, 9 June 2024, Austwick, Keasden 

The clergy of Leeds Diocese received an unexpected, and somewhat unusual letter from Bishop Nick this week. This is how it began:

Dear Colleague,

I am writing this in the lobby of a hotel in Port Sudan. Bishop Toby and I arrived here (without our luggage) for a visit to our sisters and brothers, some of whom are now displaced and who have lost everything. Going for a walk in 34ºC at 8am is an interesting experience. The city feels safer than London or Leeds, but there is evidence all around of a state in trouble. It is a city with an air of suspension about it – waiting for something to happen elsewhere that might return some stability to the country.

On arrival we met with Archbishop Ezekiel Kondo, now exiled to Port Sudan from Khartoum. He and most of the Episcopal Church of Sudan have lost almost everything – including people, many of whom have fled the country or are now internally displaced. There is not much we can do to help (despite praying consistently and bringing financial aid), but a visit in person clearly matters to our sisters and brothers here: they know we love them because we have come despite travel bans and problems at every stage of planning.

We have visited displacement and refugee camps and sat in the homes of local people. We have prayed with some very desolate people in desperate circumstances. All are grateful for your prayers and loving support. Archbishop Ezekiel and Bishop Abdu send their love and gratitude for our mutual love in the name of Christ. [1]

This was a sharp reminder to me, in the middle of an ordinary week in the Yorkshire Dales, that our diocese has a long-established link with the Episcopal Church of Sudan, and that last year the Diocesan Synod sent a letter to all our churches, encouraging us to prayerfully support our brothers and sisters of Sudan throughout their current crisis. [2] 

What is happening in Sudan, in a nutshell, is that for the past year two rival factions of the military government have been at war.

The war has triggered the world’s largest hunger crisis, coupled with the worst ongoing displacement crisis worldwide. The World Food Programme report that there are now 10.5 million people, far more people than the entire population of London, displaced, with over 25 million people in need of humanitarian aid. Nearly 15,000 have already been killed, and 26,000 more have been injured, with women and children bearing the brunt of unspeakable violence. [3]

In the early days of the war The Archbishop of Sudan, the Most Revd Ezekiel Kondo, was forced to flee Khartoum after an attack on the cathedral compound, which is why he is now based in Port Sudan. Following an appeal you may remember from last year, money was sent from our Yorkshire churches to the Sudanese Church, to support food delivery and to enable their clergy to continue their ministry. 

A Sudanese journalist, Zeinab Mohammed Salih, recently wrote of ‘trying to tell our story but it feels that the world is looking away’. Bishop Nick said it remained a challenge to keep the country ‘on the radar’, but that his current visit would inform questions tabled by the bishops in the House of Lords. [4]

Why do families fight? Why do brothers and neighbours tear each other apart? Human conflict is embedded in the founding story of our faith, with that all-too-recognisable trading of accusations at the start of Genesis: ‘The woman made me eat the fruit’; ‘No, it was the serpent who tricked me, and I ate.’ Whatever the causes of our enmity, and however bad our own behaviour towards them, we accuse those we oppose as having the devil in them, just as the scribes accused Jesus of being the devil incarnate. 

But Jesus spoke of the possibility of human relationships which overcome conflict and transcend differences. Looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’

What is the will of God for us, as we contemplate, from such a great distance, the plight of the people of Sudan?

Last month, Bishop Nick Baines issued a joint statement with Bishop Paul Swarbrick, Lead Bishop for Africa for the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales, calling for more attention to be paid to the ongoing conflict in Sudan. This is how it read.

It is over one year since the start of the Sudanese civil war. The actions of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) continue to have devastating consequences for the people of Sudan. However, today, with attention turned elsewhere, Sudan remains largely overlooked – a forgotten conflict with no winners that is already one of the greatest humanitarian catastrophes of our time.

Pope Francis, in his 2020 Easter Message, reminded us that “this is not the time for forgetfulness”, aligning with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s plea “to stand with those suffering because of war”. It is in this spirit, that we must, however hard it is, not simply shift our attention from one crisis to another. Instead, we should acknowledge, pray, and act in solidarity for all who suffer worldwide. For each crisis is akin to a sick child in our universal family, deserving equal love, care and attention. [4]

What is the will of God for us, as we contemplate, from such a great distance, the plight of the people of Sudan? Bishop Nick wrote, ‘There is not much we can do to help (despite praying consistently and bringing financial aid)’. But those things are not ‘not much’. They mean a lot. Like the Bishops of Leeds and Bradford being in Port Sudan this week, our prayers and our giving are signs to those people that we love and care for them, and that they are not forgotten.

The secretary to our Sudan Link Working Group, Revd Dale Barton, this week told me that “It is not all bad news.  The Church in Sudan is facing the civil war with considerable faith and fortitude (it humbles us).  The Bishops are an amazing advert for episcopacy as they lead.  Churches in the Nuba mountains are growing.  Elsewhere churches are full.  Praises are rising to God.”

 

Notes

[1] Rt Revd Nick Baines, Ad Clerum, 3 June 2024.

[2] Jonathan Wood, Letter re. Sudan Emergency Motion [PDF]. Diocese of Leeds, 28 July 2023

[3] Bishop Nick issues ecumenical call for support for Sudan. Diocese of Leeds, 1 May 2024. See also Situation Update April 2024: One Year of War in Sudan. The Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED), 14 April 2024; SUDAN Situation Report. UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, accessed 3 June 2024.

[4] Madeleine Davies, Calls for aid to Sudan after one year of civil war. Church Times, 19 April 2024.

[5] Bishop Nick issues ecumenical call for support for Sudan. Diocese of Leeds, 1 May 2024

• To make a donation in support of Leeds Diocese link with Sudan, please go to their Sudan Initiatives page.
• For more information about the situation in Sudan and the Leeds link, please see the Sudan Overseas Link page.