Tuesday, 10 January 2017
Blade...
Took some pix of a wind turbine blade being wheeled, inch by inch, into Victoria Square, Hull… as some kind of artwork to mark the start of the city’s ‘year of culture’ (or maybe just as an advert for Siemens). It was huge, though the pix don’t really capture the size of it... and the weather was gloomy. It must have been an expensive manoeuvre, to judge by the number of cranes and other pieces of machinery, plus loads of guys in hard-hats and hi-vis jackets, who were presumably on good overtime pay for turning out on a Sunday. I’d left before the blade was fully and finally in place…
Sunday, 8 January 2017
From hell to Hull...
I finished Rev Pawson’s book on hell: perfect reading for a gloomy day in January, when the sun sets just after lunch. My encapsulated review? It’s gibberish from cover to cover.
“Before moving on,” he writes, “it is worth noting that Jesus speaks of the destruction of a ‘body’ in hell after the death of a body. He is not referring to the putrefaction of a corpse, which takes place in the grave rather than hell and does not affect the soul at all. He is clearly anticipating a resurrected body that can be ‘thrown into hell’. This raises again the speculative question as to why God would bother to give the wicked new bodies only to annihilate them immediately afterwards! His act of ‘re-creation’ would be more understandable if the raised body were for continual existence rather than complete annihilation”.
Passages like this raise other “speculative questions”, such as: why do so many believers claim to know things they can’t possibly know? And… how does it feel to concoct an entire book which, from start to finish, is entirely speculative, drawn from a feverish imagination without evidence of any kind? Oh, and can I suggest that introducing children to the fires of hell should be categorised as child abuse?
In Hull today, photographing the siting of a massive wind turbine blade in Victoria Square…
Skipton...
“Before moving on,” he writes, “it is worth noting that Jesus speaks of the destruction of a ‘body’ in hell after the death of a body. He is not referring to the putrefaction of a corpse, which takes place in the grave rather than hell and does not affect the soul at all. He is clearly anticipating a resurrected body that can be ‘thrown into hell’. This raises again the speculative question as to why God would bother to give the wicked new bodies only to annihilate them immediately afterwards! His act of ‘re-creation’ would be more understandable if the raised body were for continual existence rather than complete annihilation”.
Passages like this raise other “speculative questions”, such as: why do so many believers claim to know things they can’t possibly know? And… how does it feel to concoct an entire book which, from start to finish, is entirely speculative, drawn from a feverish imagination without evidence of any kind? Oh, and can I suggest that introducing children to the fires of hell should be categorised as child abuse?
In Hull today, photographing the siting of a massive wind turbine blade in Victoria Square…
Skipton...
Saturday, 7 January 2017
Hellfire...
While researching material on belief and reason, I’m not just reading books by stroppy atheists; I’m reading books by believers too. Which is why I found myself in a small campsite last night, turning the yellowing pages of The Road to Hell, by David Pawson. Yes, a whole book… about the torments of hell.
The author admits that hell is seldom talked about these days, except as “a mild expletive”. You can get through a whole service in most churches without the vicar referring to hell even once. Hell does not appear in the Old Testament. The punishments - and they are many and frightful - end with death. It’s “gentle Jesus meek and mild” of the New Testament who introduces the noxious idea of punishments extending into the life to come. Jesus threatens sinners and unbelievers with the prospect of spending eternity in the lake of fire, and Pawson quotes chapter and verse. He has no truck with symbolism. Hell is is real place (not just “a separation from God”, as some liberal clergy may suggest). “The modern mind, considering itself sophisticated and refined, rejects hell as barbaric and primitive”, he warns, before confronting us with the uncomfortable truth.
He recalls the first time he tackled hellfire in one of his sermons. “My records tell me that I began to do so in the Methodist church at Addlestone, Surrey, in July 1955” (these “records” sound like a riveting read). He agrees that most Christians talk about hell as a destination for other people rather than themselves, while suggesting we should reconsider our complacent assumptions. We have to face up to the prospect of hell, because “there can be no final comfort in delusions” (an odd thing for a man to say who privileges faith over reason). He writes about an “alarming” move away from “a traditional understanding of hell as endless torment”, from which there is no appeal, no clemency, no parole. He may be alarmed; I am relieved. It takes a particular quality of mind to invent a punishment that is, literally, “a fate worse than death”.
Pawson quotes a Weslyan Cathechism (written for “children of a tender age”):
What sort of place is hell?
Hell is a dark and bottomless pit of fire and brimstone.
How will the wicked be punished there?
The wicked will be punished in hell by having their bodies tormented by fire and their souls by a sense of the wrath of God.
How long will these torments last?
The torments of hell will last for ever and ever.
Sleep well, kids; sweet dreams!
Pawson takes hell very seriously, mentioning “the high temperatures and consequent thirst”. He mentions “the obnoxious smell” of brimstone and sulphur. Jesus stated that the fires of hell are inextinguishable. Oh, and it’s dark, and filled with acrid smoke, and the torment never ends. “Prayer will be futile” Pawson warns, “for there will be no God to worship”. In the absence of God, hell is populated by Satan and his fallen angels (though Pawson reassures his readers that the Bible makes no mention of pitchforks).
Our “loving God” will judge us on the day of reckoning, when all souls will be weighed in the balance. Pawson goes into lip-smacking detail about the consequences of being found wanting. The lists of punishable sins is long, and includes ‘thoughtcrime’: not just committing adultery, but also “looking at a woman with lust in our hearts”. He was about to give his readers some good advice about how to avoid the fires of hell, when I fell into a deep, untroubled (and, thankfully, dreamless) sleep.
If the Rev Pawson was preaching hellfire and brimstone back in 1955, he’s probably dead by now. I wonder where he’s spending eternity…
Ye Olde Naked Man Café, in Settle...
The author admits that hell is seldom talked about these days, except as “a mild expletive”. You can get through a whole service in most churches without the vicar referring to hell even once. Hell does not appear in the Old Testament. The punishments - and they are many and frightful - end with death. It’s “gentle Jesus meek and mild” of the New Testament who introduces the noxious idea of punishments extending into the life to come. Jesus threatens sinners and unbelievers with the prospect of spending eternity in the lake of fire, and Pawson quotes chapter and verse. He has no truck with symbolism. Hell is is real place (not just “a separation from God”, as some liberal clergy may suggest). “The modern mind, considering itself sophisticated and refined, rejects hell as barbaric and primitive”, he warns, before confronting us with the uncomfortable truth.
He recalls the first time he tackled hellfire in one of his sermons. “My records tell me that I began to do so in the Methodist church at Addlestone, Surrey, in July 1955” (these “records” sound like a riveting read). He agrees that most Christians talk about hell as a destination for other people rather than themselves, while suggesting we should reconsider our complacent assumptions. We have to face up to the prospect of hell, because “there can be no final comfort in delusions” (an odd thing for a man to say who privileges faith over reason). He writes about an “alarming” move away from “a traditional understanding of hell as endless torment”, from which there is no appeal, no clemency, no parole. He may be alarmed; I am relieved. It takes a particular quality of mind to invent a punishment that is, literally, “a fate worse than death”.
Pawson quotes a Weslyan Cathechism (written for “children of a tender age”):
What sort of place is hell?
Hell is a dark and bottomless pit of fire and brimstone.
How will the wicked be punished there?
The wicked will be punished in hell by having their bodies tormented by fire and their souls by a sense of the wrath of God.
How long will these torments last?
The torments of hell will last for ever and ever.
Sleep well, kids; sweet dreams!
Pawson takes hell very seriously, mentioning “the high temperatures and consequent thirst”. He mentions “the obnoxious smell” of brimstone and sulphur. Jesus stated that the fires of hell are inextinguishable. Oh, and it’s dark, and filled with acrid smoke, and the torment never ends. “Prayer will be futile” Pawson warns, “for there will be no God to worship”. In the absence of God, hell is populated by Satan and his fallen angels (though Pawson reassures his readers that the Bible makes no mention of pitchforks).
Our “loving God” will judge us on the day of reckoning, when all souls will be weighed in the balance. Pawson goes into lip-smacking detail about the consequences of being found wanting. The lists of punishable sins is long, and includes ‘thoughtcrime’: not just committing adultery, but also “looking at a woman with lust in our hearts”. He was about to give his readers some good advice about how to avoid the fires of hell, when I fell into a deep, untroubled (and, thankfully, dreamless) sleep.
If the Rev Pawson was preaching hellfire and brimstone back in 1955, he’s probably dead by now. I wonder where he’s spending eternity…
Ye Olde Naked Man Café, in Settle...
Friday, 6 January 2017
Thursday, 5 January 2017
Wednesday, 4 January 2017
Bohemian Chatterers...
I never expected to see rare birds in Todmorden, but last week I saw a guy with a camera and long lens trained on the trees surrounding the car-park in the middle of town. They were waxwings (though, from a distance, on a gloomy day, they could have been starlings). It’s an 'invasion year’ for waxwings, apparently. Some birds ventured closer, to trees laden with yellow berries, and, when the sun came out, they looked exotic: more like parrots than starlings.
I haven’t seen this many waxwings (I counted around thirty) since I was in short trousers. I read about a flock of waxwings stripping the red cotoneaster berries from trees in Golden Acre Park (though the Yorkshire Post journo had tried to ‘sex up’ his account by calling them ‘Bohemian Chatterers’). I got on my bike and peddled to the park, to find the flock of waxwings still in residence. They weren’t bothered by a young lad with a monocular (and they weren’t bothered by an old guy with a monocular, in Tod). Two special moments, half a century apart…
I haven’t seen this many waxwings (I counted around thirty) since I was in short trousers. I read about a flock of waxwings stripping the red cotoneaster berries from trees in Golden Acre Park (though the Yorkshire Post journo had tried to ‘sex up’ his account by calling them ‘Bohemian Chatterers’). I got on my bike and peddled to the park, to find the flock of waxwings still in residence. They weren’t bothered by a young lad with a monocular (and they weren’t bothered by an old guy with a monocular, in Tod). Two special moments, half a century apart…
Sunday, 1 January 2017
A new year...
Parked up in Carnforth last night, assuming that locals intending to celebrate new year would go to the fleshpots of Lancaster and Morecambe instead. 2017 arrived, on cue, without any need for me to usher it in. I don’t think many people would say that 2016 was a vintage year. I backed the wrong horses in both the Brexit referendum and the US presidential election, so my prognoses for 2017 ain’t worth a hill o’ beans.
Mentally, I haven’t felt this grounded and balanced for maybe 30 years. I haven’t had a full-blown panic attack for years, and even the low-level feelings of anxiety, which used to be present through my waking hours, have gone. It’s the difference between shadow and light, night and day. Physically, though, I’m overweight, drinking too much, and - despite the photographic forays - not getting enough exercise. So this is something to address in the months to come…
Santa on his own fitness regime: either scaling a pile of presents, or abseiling down...
Mentally, I haven’t felt this grounded and balanced for maybe 30 years. I haven’t had a full-blown panic attack for years, and even the low-level feelings of anxiety, which used to be present through my waking hours, have gone. It’s the difference between shadow and light, night and day. Physically, though, I’m overweight, drinking too much, and - despite the photographic forays - not getting enough exercise. So this is something to address in the months to come…
Santa on his own fitness regime: either scaling a pile of presents, or abseiling down...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)