Sunday, 7 January 2024

A clarification

I was upset today to find an email thanking me for "speaking out so clearly" "in the Christian institute’s weekly email". I don't remember speaking to them, I thought. And so I looked them up on line. I hadn't spoken to them. And if they had asked me to comment on the subject of assisted dying, I would probably have politely declined.

Why?

First of all, it is, I understand, basic journalistic courtesy to ask an individual before you name them in a story. And I wasn't approached. Secondly, examining the Christian Institute's website confirmed to me what I vaguely recalled, i.e. that it campaigns on certain issues with which I am not in sympathy and represents an extremely conservative type of Christianity which I no longer hold, if I ever did. For one example, it appears homophobic, which for me is the antithesis of the Christian good news - which this weekend we celebrate is for all people. I suspect that I could not in all conscience subscribe to all its tenets.

However I do acknowledge that I wrote a letter to the Guardian on the subject of assisted suicide and therefore put my views in the public domain, as they are also, of course, on my blog. So I can't complain, but simply dissociate my views from those of the Christian Institute - and hope that if they ever want to quote me again they are polite enough to contact me first.

Saturday, 6 January 2024

Where is love?

Mike Chapman 'Christ Child'
 

HOLY INNOCENTS DAY

The first words we were taught in Latin
Were amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant:
Verb, transitive; meaning love.
Outside the church on Trafalgar Square
Stands a great block of Portland Stone
With a carved new-born baby soft and smooth
Lying not in Christmas card manger
But on a rough bed of rock.

Round the plinth is inscribed:
‘In the beginning was the word…
And the word became flesh
And dwelt among us’.
Look once more at the naked baby
His cord has not even been cut
He lies without defences and alone
Can this truly be the Word made flesh?

Naked new borns lie in Mariupol’s wreckage
Mothers weep for their Infants in al-Shifa
With ash grey dust their only shroud
‘What kind of a country is afraid of hospitals
and maternity wards and destroys them?’
Is it leaders lusting to unleash
Their fear full fury while they can?
Wounded they see not neighbour but stranger,

Not brother but alien, animal, pest
To be butchered, mortared, missiled from our land.
We are the chosen inhabitants of this place
Pity we can’t afford, we dare not open our eyes
To the mothers drowning in agony
To children scraping away the rubble
Wailing for lost baby brother Isa
Loved in Gaza’s hell. Are you here, Emmanuel?

28th December 2023