In a deprived corner of the UK, Christian meditation is a frequently used tool to counter the ravages of drink, drugs and homelessness, thanks to a former roadie for punk band The Damned
“How, you?” a voice called as I was opening the door to the John Paul Centre in the centre of Middlesbrough. “Aye, you.” Nodding, a heavily bearded figure crossed the road towards me. He wore a duffel coat and fake fur racoon hat against the unseasonable summer chill – and at least half a bottle of morning sherry. “Are you in charge of the food?”
“The food?” I asked.
The man waved a hand at the imposing building rising above us. The town’s former Irish Centre, the John Paul extends a warm welcome to the homeless, refugees, recovering addicts and daily Massgoers with the help of the diocese of Middlesbrough and the Vincentian homelessness charity Depaul UK. “They said there’s a baldy fella in there what gives out food,” he went on. “Some sort of monk. Always going on about Jesus and Buddha. Got tattoos.”
“Oh,” I said. “You mean Terry.”
It could only be Terry Doyle. Development worker, former punk, and now oblate of the World Communion for Christian Meditation – who else on Teesside would be both tonsured and tattooed? We met Terry on the stairs. He was just about to start his weekly meditation session, but made a quick detour down to the foodbank.
User Comments (1)
“Change yourself and you change the world,” Terry has the secret to save oneself from religious delusions. Keeping in touch with reality on different levels is the way to go, it seems to me. “Forced evangelisation is a load of crap,” Terry told me when I mentioned writing this article. “Start with a bag of food and a place for people to be themselves.” This is Jesus in our time.