Critic Cal

early one morning Life surprised us, as promised; a second first day. The occurrence of the Resurrection ‘on the first day of the week’ (see, e.g., Matthew 28 ) suggests a parallel with the Genesis 1 creation account. Many Christians understand it as the beginning of New Creation, the ‘now and not yet’ fulfilment of God’s promise to deliver Israel and, ultimately, humankind. But although the promise can be traced throughout the Hebrew scriptures (which have been retrospectively interpreted with Jesus’ life and death and life in mind), that first Easter morning was not necessarily what those hoping and waiting had thought they were hoping and waiting for. Even Jesus’ disciples — whom he had explicitly prepared for the event (see, e.g.,  Mark 8:31 ) – were taken by surprise. As for me … Lent is never long enough, or I am never quite intentional enough in observing it, so that Easter always seems to come ‘too early’. Then again, I’m not sure that I ever could (or am supposed...

nothing could be done; it was too late, or too soon. unrestful Sabbath. Holy Saturday ... or 'Liminal Saturday', as Mr. W and I have taken to calling it in recent years. Surely the oddest day in the church calendar ... and perhaps the one that resonates with me the most. Jesus is dead. He told his disciples this would happen. He also told them he would rise again ... but that's a lot to take in at the best of times and, right now, all they know is ... he is dead. And Jewish law obliges them to do ... precisely nothing: it is the Sabbath. ( Luke 23 :56b). And so they wait ... for what? To carry out the usual burial rites, and move on with their lives? ( Luke 24 :1) Gear themselves up for fishing for fish again like they used to? ( Matthew 4 :18-20) With hindsight, we glibly reassure them (and ourselves) that everything is about to change, for the better and forever ... they stand on the threshold of God's New Creation! But they, that weary, crushing Sabbath, ...

from a tiny seed to a tree, rent and flowing; self-emptying Love.  This year (2016) Good Friday falls on the 25th March – the day when traditional churches usually celebrate the  Feast of the Annunciation , remembering the angel Gabriel's appearance to Mary ( Luke 1:26-38 ). Most Western churches move the Feast to avoid the clash with Holy Week, but I find the juxtaposition thought-provoking. Both the conception and the crucifixion of Jesus can be viewed as gestures of ' kenosis ' – self-emptying, prompted by God's love for humankind: …though he was in the form of God, [Jesus] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. ( Philippians 2 :6-8) I'm also reminded of a metaphor that Jesus uses to prepare his disciples for what lies ahead – both ...

"Now, we can do this the hard way or ... well actually, there's just the hard way." ( S1E1 )  "Didn't anyone warn you about playing with pointy sticks? It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye." ( S3E2 )  "You know very well, you eat this late ... you're gonna get heartburn. Get it? Heartburn?" ( S4E6 )  "That's all I get? One lame-ass vamp with no appreciation for my painstakingly thought-out puns." ( S4E6 )   "Didn't your mom teach you? Don't play with your food." ( S1E6 )  “If I was at full slayer power, I’d be punning right about now.” ( S3E12 ) Buffy ! I finished watching the 7-season teen-TV spectacular late last autumn, having 'discovered' it at a somewhat advanced age, with the help of my sister, against the anxious life-long advice of our parents (as I've mentioned  elsewhere ). What's not to love? Go Buffy! Go women! Go non-patriarchal models of masculini...

When I finished primary school, my all-time favourite teacher gave me Cranford and Jane Eyre  as a leaving gift. It's taken me until now to realise that, as much as seeking to further my literary education, she was almost certainly trying to gently nudge me into feminist awakeness. Well, after a two-decade-long lie-in, I'm finally rubbing my eyes (sorry I'm late, Miss). I've not read either book for ages  – it's impossible enough keeping pace with the 'to-read' list without appending the many worthy 'to-revisit's. But I was recently delightfully surprised by the stage adaptation  of Jane Eyre in its second run at the Bristol Old Vic. I say 'surprised' ... it's a grumpy habit of mine to routinely and volubly disapprove of adaptations of anything , especially fiction to stage or screen. Too often (I maintain) it becomes an exercise in plot narration, neglecting all but the surface layer of the original material as well as the unique op...

The  Feast of the Presentation  (also known as 'Candlemas') is celebrated on the 2nd February by some churches, on the Sunday between the 28th January and the 3rd February by some others, and not at all by churches which (like mine) uphold a steady tradition of eschewing tradition. It marks the occasion when, 40 days after Jesus' birth, Mary and Joseph take him to Jerusalem to present him in the Temple in accordance with the Torah. It is here that Simeon, a man 'waiting for the consolation of Israel', meets the infant Jesus and recognises in him the outworking of God's promises. Here is a sonnet I made about that encounter. Because (as Christmas celebrations sometimes seem especially designed to obscure) the Incarnation isn't " nice ", it's awesome ... THE SACRIFICE IN THE TEMPLE   I saw the preparation of my death And life, lie crying, cradled in the arms Of maiden motherhood. I heard alarms And consolations with each wailing bre...

There was a time before YouTube – remember? – when people relied on the television for humorous video snippets. And if you wanted to watch one again (and again and again and again) you'd better hope that somebody had set the VCR. Well, my family were utterly entranced by a dog called Domino that said "I want one". He starred in a 1988 episode of the BBC's 'That's Life' and my dad has been doing impressions of him ever since. (In fact, I'm pretty sure we  didn't  catch it on tape – which means we probably only saw the actual footage once; it was dad we had on repeat). Unsurprisingly, by now   it can  be found on  YouTube , comfortably at home alongside a selection of tortuous  wannabes  – talking dogs just aren't what they once were. It's an odd experience watching it for real for the first time in all these years. Like most memories, it's evolved in the retelling; for something so embedded in our family culture it seems strangely ...