
repost: I believed in Father Christmas… But I believe in the Israelite.
This is a repost from 15 years ago on my old blog – I needed to refer to it from something but it can’t have
This is a repost from 15 years ago on my old blog – I needed to refer to it from something but it can’t have
Regulars will know that I’ve been doing increasing amounts with the fair friends of the Rabbit Room in Nashville. So today, a couple more bits
In recent weeks, I’ve started a weekly column over at The Rabbit Room to share tiny corners of the classical music world with other corners
Sacred Treasure Comparing COVID-19 and the Chernobyl disaster? Here is a literature academic living in Turkey who grew up in Kyiv at the time of
I know little about Christopher Smart (1722-1771), apart from the fact that the suffered the torments, like his almost contemporary William Cowper, of an eighteenth-century
Sacred Treasure There has been much heat and hurt recently about power abuse and church ministry. It is something that I’ve been working on and
Sacred Treasure This is an extraordinary story that reads like a whodunnit: the stolen early manuscript of Mark? (long read but worth it) I’m an
I really wasn’t sure how to choose this because there are various options. Spotify and the like will tell you what you listened to the
Sacred Treasure One man mission – a fascinating story about reviving Welsh chapels – and fascinating it gets such a high profile on the BBC
Sacred Treasure The Josh Harris ‘deconversion’ story (for those who are aware) is very sad and my heart goes out to him and his family.
Sacred Treasure If you’ve not clocked this great little radio series by Nick Spencer, then you must: The Secret History of Science and Religion. Some
There is an emotional complexity to this wonderful painting by Swiss artist Eugène Burnand. I know very little about him, apart from the usual resort of Wikipedia. But he manages to capture a moment of almost frantic inquisitiveness, as Peter and his young, fellow-disciple John rush in the golden sunrise light to the burial garden. Their faces seem filled with anxiety, confusion, hope, wonder, and longing all at once. Hoping against hope, but fearing a con, or something worse? Could Mary Magdalene, first to visit the tomb, possibly have been right…?