Skip to main content

Something Profound?

So, Rach commented that in this momentous political week I haven't had much to say. Not one to take a challenge lightly I have been pondering today about how to broach the arrival of a new prime minister.

I got the Sojourners email last night.. Jim Wallis probably put it much better than I can. In GB we have a Prime Minister who cares for the poor. I have thought for some time that he may be a bigger hero for Africa than domestically.

But, sooner than expected, he faces a domestic/ international challenge. Two car bombs. Both miraculously (and I don't use the word lightly) defused. Will GB resist the temptation to go down the line of more draconian laws? I hope so.

I like living in a country where we still have the freedom to buy the stuff to make those bombs. No terror laws that detain people can stop that stuff. I hope that GB remembers that. I hope he remembers what he has said before, that we have to look at the reasons why people want to blow us up.

I wish him luck.. if luck is the right word.


Michael said…
Do you think people are justified in wanting to blow us up??
jude said…
Ultimately if we buy into a retributive view of how the world works then yes. I don't think we can rampage as we have done for 300 years and expect no consequence to that. But, I also believe in a gracious and redemptive God.
rach said…
I'm gonna have to read that again now I've sussed that GB doesn't stand for Great Britain.

That is why you write the political blogs and I don't!

Popular posts from this blog

NO MORE MAGIC BULLET- or why I have stopped watching the West Wing

I love the West Wing. It still rates as one of the most well informed and influential series of the genre. Its speeches have been stolen by people who have osmosed its hope for a better way of doing politics. When we watch it today it holds a very particular kind of resonance because it demonstrates a civility that has been drowned in a sea of hate. It has positive images of a wrestled out faith, is rich with camaraderie and pith and is just good telly.
But its bad for me. 
It pains me to admit this, but the West Wing makes me think I can change the world in a way that is simply not helpful. 
It holds out the present hope that the world can turn on a single conversation. With the brave statement or right turn of phrase one might change the debate, and in turn might change the world entire. The moment in the Oval where they realise that if they take no credit they can save social security. The moment where Donna remembers to pay welfare payments. The realisation that all the NATO people a…

A very dull post about what I do with my time...

Each year I take a calendar month and record what I do in it. I break each day into twenty minute chunks and note down what happens in each twenty minute block. I don’t do the same for designated Sabbath time (nor do I note each bit of time outside of the beginning and end of a working day, no-one needs to know how long I clean my teeth for).
I categorise each thing that I do (an imperfect science) with a view to getting a handle on what I do with my time. 
This year I did the audit in November (as clergy I always avoid doing this in Lent, Advent or August). 
So- what did I discover?
I work around 55 hours a week. (thats up one hour from last year) That work is spread over five and a half days. The only sabbath day that was interrupted by work was about processing a painful meeting.  Of 26 working days, I worked 12 evenings.
In terms of what I do:
In November 17% of my time was taken up with prayer, reading and learning. Thats a slightly false read as I had a 48 hour away time in there. Prayer…

Falling out with Football

Some of my earliest memories are of Sunday mornings. There was one which seemed to involve being in a big hall colouring pictures, but I didn’t much like that, so the memories that have stuck are of sitting outside. Now, I love outside, it calms me, so pretty much any outdoor activity would have held some thrall for my turbulent child self. But the family Sunday activity was football.
When I was very small my Dad played. He was past his glory days by the time I can remember. The cartilage in his knees had run out before the rest of his body- and so much of my memory of him was as he “ran the line”.I’m pretty sure he sometimes did that in wellies, but its been a long time.
Sunday football was part of our life. We would go to the game and then mum would join us as we had drinks at the social club next door. It’s why I drank beer from the age of eight and could snaffle my way through about a thousand calories of crisps in a sitting.
And then we would go home, have a massive roast and w…