Critic Cal

A poem about, among other things, the importance of biblical literacy.             NEVERTHELESS             You warned me to keep quiet.             Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic,             You explained.             My soul depended on it.             Don’t be so hysterical, you said.             There were no actual cages,             And the youngest were already crawling.             Romans 13.             Violence on many sides,             For all have sinned, you emphasised;             And God so loved the world ...             It’s there in black and white.     ...

Mr. W and I had the privilege of reading bedtime stories to the children of some friends the other day. The three books we were presented with were quite charming – beautiful illustrations, gently wholesome messaging (friendship, courage, the joy of reading, and the importance of keeping libraries open) and, best of all, one of them rhymed. Only, no joke, of the twelve or so characters across the books none were female, with the passing exception of somebody's unnamed mother. *Sigh*. In conversation about the new Star Wars (which I haven't seen yet), I heard it suggested that there were 'too many women'. So, I went and, with the help of IMDB and key stage 3 level maths, I found out that, of the entire cast, 25% were female, while of the top 12 characters, 40% were. Granted, headcount may or may not be a good proxy for screentime, but still: 'too many', as too often (see, e.g., research about perceived and actual speaker ratios), meant 'a larger mino...

Card shops have a lot to answer for. It pains me to think how many frustrated, fruitless hours I've frittered, failing to find cards which send messages I'm OK to sign my name to, before settling on ones that (by way of damage limitation) say as little as possible. You see, I'm not sure that I want to help colour-code babies, or teach kids to be pirates/princesses; suggestions that ageing is something to be ashamed of dismay me; I'm more inclined to pray for blessing than to wish for luck; it seems to me that alcohol is best enjoyed in moderation, most of us don't really need more sugar in our diets, and enslavement to consumerism is lamentable, not whimsical; I've a dad who can't bear football, beer, cricket, cars, golf or rock music, a husband who can't bear bad copy, and a sister whose brains and compassion are way more impressive and worth celebrating than her shoe collection (and she has quite a shoe collection). Blank cards it is then ... except...

And Jesus went away from there and withdrew to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.” But he did not answer her a word. And his disciples came and begged him, saying, “Send her away, for she is crying out after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” And he answered, “It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.” Then Jesus answered her, “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed instantly. ( Matthew 15:21-28 ; see also  Mark 7:24-30 )                   THE FLOOR         ...

His poetic mastery may have finally won me round to blank verse but Milton's  notion of ' Paradise ' was lost on me considerably before that first fateful forbidden bite. Then again, perhaps that's not surprising, as he seems convinced it was designed for Man (and no, I don't mean in the 'masculine generic' sense). As were women, naturally. A utopia of male entitlement and supremacy is no very entrancing abode for a woman who believes that she was made first and foremost for relationship with God, not for servitude to her husband. I reined in my desire to throw things – a lucky escape for my Kindle – and instead settled down to providing some constructive feedback. Maybe, with a bit of help (I'm sure he'd definitely thank me for it, *ahem*), he could salvage some of that lovely poetry after all... Researching the above I stumbled on an illustrative, wryly amusing example of why Milton's poetic take on God's paradisal gender norms s...

The Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood   is an evangelical Christian organisation established in 1987 "primarily to help the church defend against the accommodation of secular feminism" (see  Mission Statement ). They remain committed to actively promoting what is described as a "complementarian" view on gender issues, identities, roles and relationships, which they believe to be the Biblically correct one. Key features are the affirmation of male headship and of traditional domestic roles for women. Once upon a time I would've taken up their message with earnest credence. I too want my life to be shaped by God's truth and not the world's latest ideology, and Grudem and Piper et al . are able to quote chapter and verse with a confidence that a younger me was apt to find compelling. But over the years, as I studied and came to know and love the Bible more and more for myself, I began to seriously question many of the supposedly "obvious...

On a bad day on the inside of my head, of which there were many, my arms were the arms of a gorilla. On better days, they were the arms of a man. On no day at all did they pass as the arms of a female teenager, or indeed a female anything. Except maybe a female gorilla. This was just one of the many many points on which I failed to meet the spec. I was desperate to bring myself up to it somehow ... but how? Not a clue. I'd picked up some hints about things  not  to do. For example, attacking the excesses with razors precipitated an increase of future excesses. So ... what exactly? If anyone of my acquaintance was an expert on the subject, they kept that shameful fact appropriately quiet – but, even if I'd known whom to approach, I doubt it would ever have occurred to me that such a drastic measure as asking was a legitimate option. So I just dragged my gorilla arms around with me, one on each side. And, along with them, the weighty consciousness of them. They (and ...