We had lots of interesting feedback this week, including a question about whether the statement ‘Jesus is Lord’ still works for us in our democratic, post-feudal society. I was reminded of a piece I wrote in a book called God’s Dangerous Book, which talked about the first translation of the Bible out of Greek and into the Gothic language by a cleric called Wulfila. Here’s an excerpt: There were three immediate problems.
There’s a lot about metaphor in this week’s show triggered, partially, by my latest irritation with a worship song, but also by a heartfelt email about the patriarchy in religion. Metaphors are, of course, vital. Apart from mystical moments of direct revelation, they are the only way we have to talk about God. As I say on the show, God exists in translation. Without metaphor we are up the creek without a paddle.
We return to the Bible this week, to the thorny topic of how we deal with difficult Bible verses, particularly verses about eternal punishment and divine vengeance. As our correspondent puts it, it’s like biblical whack-a-mole: you hammer one passage down, only to see new ones pop up. In particular he was talking about 2 Thessalonians 1.8-9 which is full of vengeance and eternal punishment. In the podcast I do talk a bit about different ways of reading this – it’s not quite as unambiguous as it seems.
I’ve just rewatched A Canterbury Tale, my favourite Powell and Pressburger film and one of my favourite films full stop. I am always very wary of recommending it to people because it is so very weird. Set in the last years of WW2, the plot – such as it is – involves three ‘pilgrims’ who find themselves in a village in Kent. They are on their way to Canterbury and each, in their own way, is in need of a blessing.
Happy new year (although, as we all know, the official Mid-faith Crisis New Year isn’t until March). Back after our Christmas break and we talk about a bit of an anniversary: Jan 1 2025 marks 45 years since I became a Christian. Fair to say a few things have changed in that time, so we discuss how we understood ‘conversion’ back then and how we understand it now. And we think about how our sense of purpose has changed.
Happy Christmas! In this festive episode we share – and then judge – our Christmas micro-sermons. Also we think about the practices that will nourish us this Christmas and reflect on how the darkness and worry of the nativity stories does not diminish the life and hope. Not, perhaps the most polished episode – which is saying something – but heartfelt nevertheless. In particular I’ve been struck this year by the way in which the nativity stories take place against a backdrop of fear and trouble.
After a brief debate about which of us is the more miserable, we discuss whether social media can help us engage with our shadow, detaching from the news without feeling guilty, and how hate actually tethers us to the object of our hatred. Also we have a discussion about Advent. This year I’m thinking a lot about the need to focus on small things. Advent is part of that. The nativity accounts seem quite big and spectacular, what with exotic magi, strange stars and deranged rulers.
In this week’s episode we talk about prayer and laughter, about creativity, and about the everyday acts of hope that help us transcend the news. As usual I climbed onto my high horse about social media for a bit, as a listener wrote in quoting that bit from Shaun Lambert’s interview, where talked about ‘Freeing our attentional capacities from the virtual world is the number one ethical task’. Which I have written a bit more about here.
In an interview on our podcast with Shaun Lambert, he gave this quote: ‘Freeing our attentional capacities from the virtual world is the number one ethical task’. I’m not sure where the quote comes from1, but in the wake of the US election, it seems truer than ever. The main argument for leaving social networks has been about preserving our own mental health. But there is an ethical side as well.
Well. It’s been a bit of a week and many people are struggling with disappointment, darkness and fear. So in this podcast we talk about how we can respond in these times. In particular, I wanted to frame joy as a choice – not as a kind of escapism, but as a revolutionary, even insubordinate act. Like Jesus' embodiment of nonviolent protest, choosing joy and laughter and hope in these times can be seen as defiance, not defeat.