WWOLD

I went to my church away day on Saturday. It will come as no surprise to anyone that it was not the most fun I have had on a Saturday morning. Not least as I wasn't really sure what the point was - and there wasn't enough drinking.


But the real problem was the theology. We were asked by the bishop of Ramsbury to answer - in respect of what we should do with our church - 'What would Our Lady do?' Now, the original WWJD were naff enough (and somewhat tarnished by Hansie Cronje's sporting of them), but this really was a step too far. The bishop seems a decent enough sort, but the theology was outrageous. Mary, we were enjoined to consider, was of greater interest because, unlike Jesus, she was human. Heresy, heresy. And an old heresy at that. Interestingly, I remember Jane Baun, one of my tutors for my MSt, giving a paper which argud that this same conception existed in the Byzantine popular church about a thousand years ago.

It was of course heresy then, just as it is now. Marys humanity is not different from that of Jesus. Though her role in the divine economy may be different, it is hard to see how this would affect the work of a church in an inner city. Christ's humanity is full and complete, not some imperfect 'skin' which he assumes for the convenience while the Godhead remains what he 'really'. For, in the immortal words, that which is not assumed is not saved - if Christ's only succeeds as a God, there is no route out for man.

The rest was just a bit dull.

Unrelatedly, my priest is doing a slightly barking fundraiser, which deserves supporting. I will restrain the Marian idolatry.

Democracy denied

Thoughts on results to follow, but I am more angry that I was denied the vote. This the text of the letter I sent to Lambeth today:

I am writing to complain in the strongest possible terms about the election on Thursday in which I was unable to vote due to your failure to register my wife and me.

I had diligently filled in my tedious registration form, having meditated on postal voting, and then sent it on to you. To answer your inevitable question, I always do this: I have voted in every election since I became eligible after 1997, and before I could vote, I spent time campaigning and leafleting. I never forget to send them.

I became a little concerned when no polling cards arrived, so emailed your electoral services department on Tuesday. Clearly manning such a service is not a priority so close to an election for you; raising the question what it is for during this time. Perhaps they were busy going through the unopened letters containing registration forms.

What they clearly were not doing (and should have been doing) was checking the register against either last year’s or the council tax roll. For we did vote last year and I note that the council tax system does not need updating on an annual basis. A cursory check – and given that there are only just over 100,000 households in Lambeth this would take mere minutes – would reveal that we are still resident, still paying, and still expecting to vote.

Given this, I would now ask you to write to me explain why you lost my form, failed to take any action to check my continued residence, and in doing so deprived me of my vote. I expect a prompt response within the next fortnight. Should you treat this request with the contempt that you appear to have treated my attempts, I will be forced to withhold my council tax as a matter of course.

Bibliography, May 2009

Acquired (3)
H.Rider Haggard, The Wanderer's necklace
R. Mistry, A Fine balance
A. Ross, The rest is Noise


Read (6)

BOTM: A. Trollope, Phineas Redux

A. Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
A. Christie, The 4.50 from Paddington
A. Christie, Come, tell me how you live
W. Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury
A. Goldsworthy, In the name of Rome

It's been a poor month. Silence on this blog and the relatively low numbers of books speak of a hefty work schedule. However, at the end of the month I did return to Trollope after a long absence (I read volume three of the Palliser saga in January 2007) and was not disappointed. In this age of political scandal, we forget the endemic corruption and cost of nineteenth century politics, whic Trollopse so accurately reflects. But Trollope is better than simply a brilliant evocation of his period (though he is that), but also witty, perceptive and extremely enjoyable. It feels a little like returning to an old comfortable friend - and there is little better than that.

Gotcha!

Beverley Hughes gone.
At fucking last.

I don't really care about the rest - in fact there is some misfortune that Darling may go for dodgy expenses rather than dodgy expediture. But I am delighted to have her out. Idiot woman.