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3 min read

When nuns held up a bank

A community fearing being left behind, takes novel action to help change its economic and social fortune. Ryan Gilfeather tells the tale.

Ryan Gilfeather explores social issues through the lens of philosophy, theology, and history. He is a Research Associate at the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work.

A pile of coins in focus at the bottom of an out of focus glass tube.
Small value coins were at the heart of the nuns' actions.
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash.

Days before Christmas 2001 a mob of nuns and priests held up a bank in Oxford Street. They were not stealing money but rather paying it in. The Nuns of St Antony’s Forest Gate, a 2000-person strong Catholic parish saved their collection money until they had a staggeringly vast quantity to deposit. On the day, they took the money in a van to an HSBC branch in Oxford Street, wheeled it in on trolleys, where they proceeded to deposit every single coin.  

At the same time priests in their clerical collars, and worshippers from a range of congregations in East London queued up at the other desk to slowly and repeatedly enquire about opening savings accounts. All the while, other members of these institutions stood outside holding banners accusing HSBC of exploiting low paid workers, saying “Give HSBC a Living Wage for Christmas.” The entire branch was brought to a standstill. Anxious Christmas shoppers stood helpless and astonished as this spectacle frustrated their attempts to withdraw money.  

They heard that wages were so bad that workers needed to take on multiple jobs, forcing them to choose between feeding their kids and seeing them. 

These nuns, priests and other Christians planned this action to secure a liveable wage for all who work at HSBC, but they also had broader ambitions. The East London Communities Organisation (TELCO), a broad-based coalition of citizens from churches, mosques, and other faith and community groups began to organise for a pay rate which was enough to live on, the amount which is now known as the Real Living Wage (currently £11.95 in London; £10.90 everywhere else). Each of these citizens had been listening to the people in their institutions. They heard that wages were so bad that workers needed to take on multiple jobs, forcing them to choose between feeding their kids and seeing them, and preventing them from praying and worshipping. Motivated by the belief that all human beings are of equal value and dignity in the eyes of God, these Christian communities, alongside the other groups in TELCO began campaigning for a fair and just rate of pay.  

The new neighbour 

As these discussions were ongoing they could see the new HSBC tower slowly ascending above their East London skyline. Considerable amounts of government money had been spent on the infrastructure of Docklands, which would serve this tower. TELCO citizens discerned that if it was going to benefit those who lived in east London, there would need to be a living wage for everyone who would work in that building. Therefore, they decided to ask the bank to make contracts for cleaning and security at the new tower on the condition that workers be paid enough to live on, in East London (£6.30 at the time). A number of religious and civic leaders had written to the HSBC chairman, Sir John Bond, to request a meeting to discuss these poverty wages. However, they had heard nothing back.  

At this point, the nuns at St Antony’s came up with their plan. Visitors and members of the 2000 strong congregation would leave coins in the collection when they light candles in church, and the nuns were accustomed to depositing them every Tuesday. However, they decided to keep hold of them for several months until they managed to fill that small van. Eventually, on 19 December they set out in it to Oxford Street, with priests and parishioners in tow, and brought this branch to its knees.  

The action worked. Within an hour Sir John had agreed to meet with TELCO members at St Philip's Church, Plaistow, to discuss their demands that cleaning and security contracts pay a living wage. Negotiations continued until 2004, when HSBC agreed to the campaigner’s demands, ensuring that every contractor pays a living wage, sick pay, pension and free access to a trade union. This victory built great momentum for the movement for a Real Living Wage, which is now voluntarily paid by over 12,000 UK employers. Therefore, this life-giving campaign for economic justice finds its origins, in part, with a group of nuns saving up their small change, because their faith led them to believe in the inextinguishable dignity and value of all human lives. 

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3 min read

The mess, grit, and dirt of the post-partum stable

No cheerleaders, nor midwives, no older women who had walked Mary's path before.

Imogen is a writer, mum, and priest on a new housing development in the South-West of England. 

A Korean style historic illustration of the nativity.
Kim Hueng Jong (Korean, 1928-), Christmas Scene.

Clean, calm and collected, 

That’s how it would have been. 

The stable of filtered imaginings, 

A picture perfect scene. 

  

Perhaps more messy - 

Undignified, unexpected, unseemly - 

A not-so dream-like site, 

As a king’s birthing barn that night. 

  

Our unimagined stable. 

No perfectly planned polaroid, 

But in mess, mud, blood, 

Is God with us 

The stable of our Christmas cards, illuminated shop window scenes, and our children’s nativity plays is neat and tidy. A newborn babe lies quietly sleeping in a straw-filled trough, wrapped perfectly in a Persil white blanket. The mother, clothed and clean, looks on adoringly, standing over her child. Any animals present are gentle, still, and lying on the ground, unaffected by this unusual occurrence in their home. This is the stable of our imaginations.  

However, the Bethlehem stable was the delivery suite for the Saviour of the world. And even a Saviour’s birth includes mess. I have experienced a variety of delivery rooms over my three pregnancies and each one has been messy. From birthing pool to theatre there is noise, blood, water, and tears. Birth is messy. And that’s not even beginning to acknowledge the mess that would have been in the stable to begin with! Despite this, the stables we see and celebrate never include the mess that Jesus would have been born into.  

Birth is also extreme. It pushes the woman’s body to the limit of her physical and emotional capacity. She has laboured - aptly named for it is indeed hard work. Her body has been torn to enable this little life to be pushed or pulled into the world. She is exhausted. And now the work begins to sustain this little one outside of the womb. While inside he has been given all that he needs, now outside they must learn together how to feed. As the newborn babe is held close to his mother, he recognises her rhythmic heartbeat, his temperature regulates, his smell and touch encourages her milk to develop, and as he feeds, he contracts her womb for the placenta to be born and her body to begin to heal. They are still dependent on each other in these early hours. 

Usually, this extreme and messy moment is done in community. It is not something we embark on alone. We have a support network of skilled people to help and guide us through birth. We have birth partners who encourage us, champion us, and remind us of our body’s innate ability to birth this baby. But Mary did not have this normal group of cheerleaders. There were no midwives at her birth, no older women who had walked this path before. Only her new husband, afraid and unsure of what his young wife was about to do. And then soon after, the Shepherds arrived. A bunch of slightly smelly, nocturnal chaps walking into a delivery room. Although they would have been familiar with mess, noisy animals, and birth, I’m not sure I would have rejoiced at their unexpected arrival. Somehow though, Mary graciously welcomes them into the space of what was probably a very messy stable.  

Perhaps instead of the sanitised stable of our imaginations, we might consider an alternative imagining - the messy stable of the Saviour. A stable where the humanness of birth, of mother and child, and of life’s mess is fully felt. Because it was into the mess, grit, and dirt that the Saviour came. And it was from this mess that he was going to save.  

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