A brief apology to anyone who has a plugin support request pending. My brain is on (health) strike for the last few days. I’ll be back in action as soon as I can.
Sometimes trawling the blogosphere is very entertaining:
- A lively review of Julian Barnes’ new book on death, Nothing to Be Frightened Of.
- Ian Angus on the Tragedy (or not) of the Commons.
- A penguin receiving a knighthood (Norwegian)
Julie Burchill has some interesting things to say on the subject. Go Julie!
Today’s memorial might focus on Mary’s place in the cosmos — and by extension the cosmic identity and destiny of all sons of Adam and daughters of Eve — but the readings chosen to help us probe that identity and destiny are relentlessly focused on God, all about who God is and what God wants and how God brings all that about.
You could preach for days on either of our readings but — don’t worry — I don’t think you can get a better summary than a few lines from our psalm.
Over the last month and a half I’ve been changing medications again. I was putting on so much weight with the previous regime and feeling — how to put it — a little too detached. They might have helped manage the pain and anxiety and adrenaline poisoning but I kept realising how little care they left in me. But, not caring, it took me quite a while to talk to my doc about a change.
I don’t know if it has been coming off one lot or the effect of the new pills but I find myself caring a lot more — it’s more like living even if I am also prone to get more irritated and snappy (sorry you guys I live with)!
The 31st of July seems well past but maybe there is still time to remember Inigo with a link to Thinking Faith and a fine article by Ron Darwen: “Will the Real Ignatius Please Stand Up?“.
If, as I am, you are a fan of all things Whedon you might like to check out Dr Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog. Genius!
I’ve just posted a plugin update with some requested features and an obscure bug-fix (or a fix for an obscure bug?).
Edel McClean offers these reflections:
I’m perplexed by today’s gospel reading. I don’t want this to be my Jesus speaking. I want to catch a softness in his eye. I want him to smile. I want him to be a wee bit easier on people. But Jesus isn’t going to do my bidding. I have to grapple with my confusion instead.
Let’s picture the scene. Jesus, a strangely attractive young rabbi, emerges out of the back end of nowhere. He wanders the hills and valleys of Palestine. He walks among a disenfranchised people, in an occupied state. He walks through their towns and their villages, over their farmland, and on the shores of their lake, and he cries out a new message. A message of a new world order, where the mourning are comforted, the meek inherit the earth, those hungry and thirsty for what’s right feast until satisfied. He doesn’t just talk. He puts it into action. He lays hands on people and they are healed. He looks, smiling, into the eyes of a leper and says ‘Of course I want to cure you, be cured’. With a word from this man’s lips, the sick are made well. The air that surrounds him is so packed full of promise of a better life and a better world, that it seems to be exploding in bursts of golden fireworks over his head.