I've been writing on forgiveness for a week. A pretty much solid week of work, and I've just about come to a point where I can stop at, and be happy with the work I have done. If I tried to do any more, it would feel incomplete, and thus, is probably not that great an idea to start now. January is for more work, methinks.
Over the week I have come to a few, tentative and very vague conclusions. Here they are, probably in slightly less coherent form than in the essay, but my brain is just about fried.
First off - God forgives us first. I know that sounds somewhat daft, and even somewhat obvious, but I had been plunging myself into Jesus' teaching on prayer, where he says 'forgive us our debts, as we forgive those who are indebted to us.' The way the sentence reads is as if we are only forgiven if we continue to forgive others. However, when we juxtapose this teaching with his parable of the unmerciful servant, we see that we cannot affect God's forgiveness of us, but as we are forgiven, we need to emulate God's character, and forgive others.
Second - it is nigh on impossible to forgive wrongs not done to you. This, as you may well imagine, poses a problem for the situation found in The Sunflower. Forgiveness is a very personal thing, and needs the victim to forgive. Which leads us to the question: is murder unforgivable?
Monday, 22 December 2008
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Death
Excuse the morbidity. Well, actually, don't. Death came up in conversation yesterday with Siobhan, as you would expect when theology and medicine students converge. But death is one of those things that I'm slowly getting tired of. Not, obviously, that I am being plagued by it, but the fear it strikes into the heart of every human. I distinctly remember talking to my Dad once, as we drove through central London, about how I was quite looking forward to death.
But age has made a faithless man of me. Since that child-like declaration, I have become rather attached to life. It has grown on me. I have dreams, aspirations, things to live for. And yet, life is only fleeting, and as if seeing through a glass darkly. I want to hold onto life much more lightly.
But age has made a faithless man of me. Since that child-like declaration, I have become rather attached to life. It has grown on me. I have dreams, aspirations, things to live for. And yet, life is only fleeting, and as if seeing through a glass darkly. I want to hold onto life much more lightly.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Order, thoughts, and Zimbabwe.
Armed with a plethora (yes, I used it) of whiteboard markers, a whiteboard, a mirror, and a rather large window, I have been trying to instill some order into my otherwise chaotic days. Otherwise, as I well know, my grand scheme of writing nigh on 5000 words previous to Christmas will go belly up, and I'll be rather annoyed.
And I actually rather enjoy it. It's amazing what happens when you plan your day previous to you waking up to it. Admittedly, I was dead to the world this morning, but I chugged through what I had planned and have come out the other side feeling rather productive, and quite proud of myself.
I have a feeling that Graham might be onto something with this whole write it down and speak it out lark. Craziness.
--
Amid the order, there is chaos. My mind is going like the Clangers - no, wait. So many thoughts and feelings assailing me, but I have this quiet assurance it's OK. It may be that the above order has put paid to panic, or it could be the fact that within that order, I'm determined to start my day with Bible reading and prayer. For what's order without the one who instilled it in the first place?
--
How many deaths does it take to remove a Zimbabwean dictator? Alright, it's not a joke, nor is it funny, but I just get the feeling of a bit of farce going on. Black comedy, if you will. The situation seems so far removed from any semblance of reality. Take, for instance, Mugabe's insistence that a) there is no cholera (much like there is no spoon...) and b) Brown caused the cholera! The West has poisoned the water supply! Biological weapons! Attack! Argh! The contradiction in terms is not dissimilar to the oxymoron that is 'Zimbabwean Government' - ministers that, according to an article I read earlier, are each receiving cars that are rolling off production lines as we speak, just so they have some choice. I'm no expert at running countries, given that all attempts with Civilisation and SimCity failed miserably, but I could at least tell you that in an economy such as Zimbabwe's, cars are not really the order of the day.
But back to this cholera lark. Mugabe insists that it has been arrested, and cholera is no longer affecting his nation. And as it was a pretext for the West to go to war with Zimbabwe, we no longer need to go war, Everything Is Alright, Folks! Just An Accident... etc., etc.. But considering an UN report today suggests an increase of 25% in cholera deaths, I'm thinking either the UN are lying, infiltrated by the West (ha!), to plant evidence as an excuse to go to war, or Mugabe is just rubbish at propaganda. As it is, I still think we need to do something, drastically - it almost feels like we're waiting for something big enough. And to be honest, I don't think we get out of bed for anything less than falsified reports of WMDs. Which leads me believe that no-one really knows who the joke is on...
And I actually rather enjoy it. It's amazing what happens when you plan your day previous to you waking up to it. Admittedly, I was dead to the world this morning, but I chugged through what I had planned and have come out the other side feeling rather productive, and quite proud of myself.
I have a feeling that Graham might be onto something with this whole write it down and speak it out lark. Craziness.
--
Amid the order, there is chaos. My mind is going like the Clangers - no, wait. So many thoughts and feelings assailing me, but I have this quiet assurance it's OK. It may be that the above order has put paid to panic, or it could be the fact that within that order, I'm determined to start my day with Bible reading and prayer. For what's order without the one who instilled it in the first place?
--
How many deaths does it take to remove a Zimbabwean dictator? Alright, it's not a joke, nor is it funny, but I just get the feeling of a bit of farce going on. Black comedy, if you will. The situation seems so far removed from any semblance of reality. Take, for instance, Mugabe's insistence that a) there is no cholera (much like there is no spoon...) and b) Brown caused the cholera! The West has poisoned the water supply! Biological weapons! Attack! Argh! The contradiction in terms is not dissimilar to the oxymoron that is 'Zimbabwean Government' - ministers that, according to an article I read earlier, are each receiving cars that are rolling off production lines as we speak, just so they have some choice. I'm no expert at running countries, given that all attempts with Civilisation and SimCity failed miserably, but I could at least tell you that in an economy such as Zimbabwe's, cars are not really the order of the day.
But back to this cholera lark. Mugabe insists that it has been arrested, and cholera is no longer affecting his nation. And as it was a pretext for the West to go to war with Zimbabwe, we no longer need to go war, Everything Is Alright, Folks! Just An Accident... etc., etc.. But considering an UN report today suggests an increase of 25% in cholera deaths, I'm thinking either the UN are lying, infiltrated by the West (ha!), to plant evidence as an excuse to go to war, or Mugabe is just rubbish at propaganda. As it is, I still think we need to do something, drastically - it almost feels like we're waiting for something big enough. And to be honest, I don't think we get out of bed for anything less than falsified reports of WMDs. Which leads me believe that no-one really knows who the joke is on...
Monday, 8 December 2008
Please don't forget my name; I've got a lot to lose
What a numpty. Me, I mean. I so easily allow myself to wallow in petty little problems. I discovered today that I hadn't been invited to something I dearly would have loved to go to. When hearing about it, I duly got offended by my non-invitation. Why? What right do I have to be upset by it? I really want to mope and get sympathy, but I'm not entirely sure it's my place to. The most bizarre thing about it is that I may have had to say no anyway, due to other plans.
Why is the grass always greener?
Why is the grass always greener?
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
Procrastination
I am in the library. I am reading and taking notes. I am also very tired, for some reason. I'm considering giving up working, but know I realistically can't do such a thing. Because I have available time now, and I need to use it. But that was obvious.
--
I'm currently reading Edward H. Flannery's response to The Sunflower. He's a Catholic, but I like the way he thinks. Every contributor up to this point has asked the question, 'is it right to forgive someone who has commited such vile offences?' Flannery, however, has the presence of mind to ask a different question:
‘Is it permitted to refuse forgiveness to a sincerely repentant malefactor?’
Everyone else has read the story with a degree of Jewish or philosophical or even Plain Old World-Weary cynicism. This Karl fellow, they say, were they Oxbridge types, are you sure he's penitent? Is he not just having us on, pulling our leg, feeling a bit sorry for himself? He's still a Nazi, after all. Always used to try and skip rugger, too, they would add.
Of course, we cannot go around handing out forgiveness to every one who says they are sorry. Or can we? Flannery points out the very Jewish way Jesus says '70 times 7', implying a repetitious and continual forgiveness. If someone says they are sorry, should we not forgive them? Whether or not they are truly repentant is God's business, but we should certainly do ours.
--
I'm currently reading Edward H. Flannery's response to The Sunflower. He's a Catholic, but I like the way he thinks. Every contributor up to this point has asked the question, 'is it right to forgive someone who has commited such vile offences?' Flannery, however, has the presence of mind to ask a different question:
‘Is it permitted to refuse forgiveness to a sincerely repentant malefactor?’
Everyone else has read the story with a degree of Jewish or philosophical or even Plain Old World-Weary cynicism. This Karl fellow, they say, were they Oxbridge types, are you sure he's penitent? Is he not just having us on, pulling our leg, feeling a bit sorry for himself? He's still a Nazi, after all. Always used to try and skip rugger, too, they would add.
Of course, we cannot go around handing out forgiveness to every one who says they are sorry. Or can we? Flannery points out the very Jewish way Jesus says '70 times 7', implying a repetitious and continual forgiveness. If someone says they are sorry, should we not forgive them? Whether or not they are truly repentant is God's business, but we should certainly do ours.
Saturday, 29 November 2008
I have been exceptionally busy over the last few weeks, and thus, for whatever reason, have not commented on my life/others lives/the world around us in the normal fashion. As I have an hour before lunch, I figure I'm going to leave this here post open, and come back to it when I have thoughts. But I'll start off with the sobering news from Mumbai.
--
Shocking stuff, really. The authorities finally managed to take control of the Taj Mahal hotel this morning, the final outpost of the terrorists, 3 days after they managed to force their way in and hold hostages. The body count up to this point is at 195, probably to rise as the authorities clear the buildings.
You have to wonder what this will do to Mumbai as a city. Indians will still love it, it will still be a thriving metropolis - I can just imagine hawkers prowling around the Gate of India once again in the coming nights. It will not die. But the effect of such an unfortunately effective terrorist attack on a city that heavily relies on tourism is unknown.
One of the most frustrating elements of it, as an Englishman, is the England cricket team coming home. Now, I'm all for safety and so on, but as I have said after every major terrorist attack in the last 8 years - the time immediately after the attacks are the safest. Security is high, terrorists rarely try and strike twice so soon after. There was an attempt two weeks after the London bombings, but it was stopped, because of heightened security. So, my plea to the English cricket team is that you should go back out there and play cricket. Because if there's something that gets Indians back on their feet, it's a good old game of bat and ball, with a bit of colonial retribution thrown in.
--
My friend who lives down the hall from me is often away for the weekends, visiting his girlfriend, and so on. I often complain about such activities, as it often means we rarely see him. So, in one conversation, I joked that he was a disappointment for being away so often. Quick as Usain Bolt on performance enhancing drugs, he replied:
'Well, at least I'm not a mistake'.
--
I was doing some research for my project yesterday, reading through the response the The Sunflower, noting down their opinion on forgiveness, quoting them if possible. One opinion I came across was a well thought out, philosophical response from a man who had been through the horrors of WWII as a Jew, and emerged a survivor. Just. And forgiveness for him was completely superfluous, more or less equating it with a feeling; nothing more. Forgive the long quote, but he says it rather better than I could:
‘I can easily imagine that, under only slightly different circumstances, you might have forgiven the dying man. Suppose you had seen his pleading and implring eyes, which may have had more of an effect on you than his rasping voice and folded hands. Or suppose that just before that encounter, you had been in contact with one of those “decent” SS men, whom we all know, who had treated you with a little bit of kindness, putting you in a more tolerant mood. … So, then you might have forgiven: in my view, it would have meant just as little as your refusal.’
Is forgiveness really this cheap? Does it really amount to nothing but psychological peace for the one who is forgiven? Because if it does, my entire belief of forgiveness and how it works is subverted. There must be something more to it. Surely?
--
This recession, eh? What a to do. Thus far it had seemed a very arbitrary thing, quite distant from real life. And then on Thursday, Woolworths has gone into administration, taking EUK with it. And I have a friend who works for EUK, and another who had a job lined up there. Suddenly everything looks quite unsure. And the real threat of this recession has hit me. When you really start to think about it, it's apparent just how bizarre the whole capitalist set up is. Currency value is based upon other currency values. What kind of circular logic is that? They're lined up like dominoes, ready to fall on each other. We'll soon be back to bartering pigs and chickens. Which is problematic for those without livestock.
--
Last night was the first night of the Christmas production, with a very student-like take on the nativity. The crowning moment of the night, and possibly the hardest to keep a straight face for, was during an 'argument' between myself and Paul's character's, as everyone else went silent, he, rather loudly proclaimed:
'You look like a sultana!'
--
Lunch is upon us, and I had have had my fill of bizarre blog comments. I think.
--
Shocking stuff, really. The authorities finally managed to take control of the Taj Mahal hotel this morning, the final outpost of the terrorists, 3 days after they managed to force their way in and hold hostages. The body count up to this point is at 195, probably to rise as the authorities clear the buildings.
You have to wonder what this will do to Mumbai as a city. Indians will still love it, it will still be a thriving metropolis - I can just imagine hawkers prowling around the Gate of India once again in the coming nights. It will not die. But the effect of such an unfortunately effective terrorist attack on a city that heavily relies on tourism is unknown.
One of the most frustrating elements of it, as an Englishman, is the England cricket team coming home. Now, I'm all for safety and so on, but as I have said after every major terrorist attack in the last 8 years - the time immediately after the attacks are the safest. Security is high, terrorists rarely try and strike twice so soon after. There was an attempt two weeks after the London bombings, but it was stopped, because of heightened security. So, my plea to the English cricket team is that you should go back out there and play cricket. Because if there's something that gets Indians back on their feet, it's a good old game of bat and ball, with a bit of colonial retribution thrown in.
--
My friend who lives down the hall from me is often away for the weekends, visiting his girlfriend, and so on. I often complain about such activities, as it often means we rarely see him. So, in one conversation, I joked that he was a disappointment for being away so often. Quick as Usain Bolt on performance enhancing drugs, he replied:
'Well, at least I'm not a mistake'.
--
I was doing some research for my project yesterday, reading through the response the The Sunflower, noting down their opinion on forgiveness, quoting them if possible. One opinion I came across was a well thought out, philosophical response from a man who had been through the horrors of WWII as a Jew, and emerged a survivor. Just. And forgiveness for him was completely superfluous, more or less equating it with a feeling; nothing more. Forgive the long quote, but he says it rather better than I could:
‘I can easily imagine that, under only slightly different circumstances, you might have forgiven the dying man. Suppose you had seen his pleading and implring eyes, which may have had more of an effect on you than his rasping voice and folded hands. Or suppose that just before that encounter, you had been in contact with one of those “decent” SS men, whom we all know, who had treated you with a little bit of kindness, putting you in a more tolerant mood. … So, then you might have forgiven: in my view, it would have meant just as little as your refusal.’
Is forgiveness really this cheap? Does it really amount to nothing but psychological peace for the one who is forgiven? Because if it does, my entire belief of forgiveness and how it works is subverted. There must be something more to it. Surely?
--
This recession, eh? What a to do. Thus far it had seemed a very arbitrary thing, quite distant from real life. And then on Thursday, Woolworths has gone into administration, taking EUK with it. And I have a friend who works for EUK, and another who had a job lined up there. Suddenly everything looks quite unsure. And the real threat of this recession has hit me. When you really start to think about it, it's apparent just how bizarre the whole capitalist set up is. Currency value is based upon other currency values. What kind of circular logic is that? They're lined up like dominoes, ready to fall on each other. We'll soon be back to bartering pigs and chickens. Which is problematic for those without livestock.
--
Last night was the first night of the Christmas production, with a very student-like take on the nativity. The crowning moment of the night, and possibly the hardest to keep a straight face for, was during an 'argument' between myself and Paul's character's, as everyone else went silent, he, rather loudly proclaimed:
'You look like a sultana!'
--
Lunch is upon us, and I had have had my fill of bizarre blog comments. I think.
Sunday, 16 November 2008
I sometimes wish...
This is a poem that more or less happened to me, during Quiet Day at college. I was quite excited about it. I hope you, whoever you might be, enjoy it.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross.
Because I sometimes forget.
It's because you're never on it now
That I forget you ever were.
There was actually that bloody day in History.
Where the brown wood being stained red was probably the most minor change.
Comparitively, anyhow.
Everything changed that day. It had to.
But I sometimes forget.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross.
So I could see you. Blood, sweat and tears.
I'd probably be a better person if I could.
But they took my Jesus away - removed him far from the scene of the crime -
Which definitely makes me a better person.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross, -
but I'm glad you're not.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross.
Because I sometimes forget.
It's because you're never on it now
That I forget you ever were.
There was actually that bloody day in History.
Where the brown wood being stained red was probably the most minor change.
Comparitively, anyhow.
Everything changed that day. It had to.
But I sometimes forget.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross.
So I could see you. Blood, sweat and tears.
I'd probably be a better person if I could.
But they took my Jesus away - removed him far from the scene of the crime -
Which definitely makes me a better person.
I sometimes wish you were still hanging on that old rugged cross, -
but I'm glad you're not.
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