To the Left of Trotsky 2

On further reflection, the findings of the aforementioned little tool re foreign policy would perturb me a little, as I wouldn't regard myself as being "non-interventionist" just not wanting to intervene purely on the basis of national self-interest. There are plenty of places that I wish we would intervene in some way, eg. Darfur, and when I talk about intervention I am talking about something more positive than military action and something more long-term than emergency aid. But if the whole talk about foreign intervention is just about securing sources of oil, or exporting an American variety of democracy, then count me out.

I should also have flagged up this other little tool from MIT that I came across through Alan in Belfast. It supposedly produces an artistic impression of your areas of interest as interpreted by limited googling of your name on t'internet. Unfortunately it doesn't quite work for me as there is another more famous David Campton who is a playwright, and also (so it seems) a rugby player as well. I would love to claim their online personas as my own, given my interests in theatre and rugby, but I would only be fooling myself.

Cheers

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LentArt: Washing the Disciples' Feet

Today's #LentArt post is "The washing of the disciples' feet" by Ghislaine Howard, another piece from the wonderful Methodist Modern Art Collection. It has clearly struck a chord with a number of people, and I am delighted that tonight's guest blog is by my friend and fellow 4 Corners Director, Father Martin Magill, who, he will be embarrassed to have me say, is for me the epitome of a servant leader. Indeed it was interesting to have a friend and artist respond to my earlier post saying that this time last year she remembers having her feet washed by Martin... How much has changed in a year: This painting (completed in 2004) was inspired by these words from the gospel of John in today's lectionary: Jesus knew that the Father had delivered all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was returning to God. So He got up from the supper, laid aside His outer garments, and wrapped a towel around His waist. After that, He poured water ...

Living under the Empire... (2) Where is Babylon?

We were driving back from school last week, talking about books that we had been reading and my younger son, Ciaran, asked me "Where is Babylon?" I have to confess that my history is better than my geography, and I said that it no longer exists as an inhabited city, but its ruins were to the north west of the current capital of Iraq, Baghdad. When I checked however, I discovered that it is actually about 50 miles south of Baghdad and the modern town is the administrative centre of the province of Babil... But just as the modern city is but a shadow of the historic capital of 2 ancient empires, first under Hammurabi in the 18th century BCE and then the "Neo-Babylonian" empire (under Nebuchadnezzar etc) in the 6th century BCE, so the earthly Babylonian empire/s was/were fleeting in comparison to the enduring metaphorical idea of Babylon. The original Empire under Hammurabi was probably the ultimate origin of some of the early Biblical stories, including the ...

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And by that ...

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