Like any other ancient text, what the Bible doesn't say is almost more interesting than what it does. Hidden away in there are all kinds of assumptions, the things that were taken as understood without question at the time of writing.
And it seems surprising that God hasn't taken the chance - especially now social media offers such easy access to people - to update, amend, point out mistakes and misunderstanding, and fill in some of the gaps.
Think about it. If you were God, a Twitter account would give such an opportunity to set things straight, maybe give physicists a few extra clues post-Higgs about the general direction of String Theory. A few well chosen tweets could sort out the Palestine/ Israel issue, and we could feel easier about Sunday opening hours. And s/he could leave us in no doubt about which issues were troubling him/ her each week. That could be very effective.
And the gaps.
Wouldn't it be fascinating to know what interview procedures Jesus used when he appointed the apostles, and what went wrong when he gave Judas the job ? Was there a job description ? What was the person spec like ? Where were the interviews held ? (Maybe in the conference rooms of some inn in downtown Jerusalem ?)
It would be good to know why, even then, God chose not to set a better example vis-a-vis gender equality. Twelve male apostles with a sort of female amanuensis who washes their feet does not look good, and was such a missed opportunity. And what a different bunch it might have been with the inclusion of a few women. The whole sad history of Pauline misogyny could have been so different, so positive.
The difficulty is, it seems to me, that God has allowed the literalists, the fundamentalists to run the game. The more you write down, the greater the chance of misunderstandings, and guiding the production of the Bible millennia ago and then leaving us to it was always asking for trouble. And what do we have ? Look around. Trouble.
Living life by principles and practice which were relevant in the desert thousands of years ago feels slightly intellectually queasy. It is as if you are determined to fix your Ford Fiesta using only the best Chariot Repair Manual known to the Hittites together with a sample of tools and hot technology from 837 BCE. This would not be acceptable, even in a non-franchised garage.
If only some angel would do an Edward Snowden we'd be in business. How about it, Gabes ?
Monday 30 December 2013
Tuesday 10 December 2013
Ofsted and the one-trick pony
What are schools for ?
A product of a boys' grammar school in the sixties I was about 14 years old when it dawned that the school and its teachers had no interest whatsoever in me as a young person, and saw me merely as another exam statistic, and a chance to enhance its Oxbridge tally.
My education was highly effective in transmitting undue deference to authority, however crackpot and undeserving, and also in teaching a whole bunch of irrelevancies which were twenty years out of date even then.
As far as my school was concerned, literature stopped at some date as close to Shakespeare's death as teachers could pretend, while Shakespeare himself was close to sainthood.
Science made little recognition of Rutherford splitting the atom, and had all the excitement of a museum storeroom.
Geography (ah ! geography !) was an endless list of places and products (Shotton: Steel. Nottingham: lace.) and the real interest came from watching chalk dust drift Brownian dances in the tired sunlight of lost afternoons.
The masters (yes, masters) taught with a stern humourlessness and reinforced discipline with casual brutality. That is not too strong a word and is carefully chosen.
It was clear to me then that my school was serving some purpose other than my development or interest, which Is why I became so frequently absent both from it and within it. Perfecting anonymous and effortless invisibility was a key lesson from those days, and it has served me well through my entire life.
Then I must have hated learning. Not at all. I hated being taught, which is different. Particularly being taught by the authoritarian pygmies who mistook fear for respect and derived their power from status rather than stature.
That school would have pleased the Saints Michael (Gove and Wilshaw). Wilshaw, playing the role of over-assertive Baptist to Gove's Messiah is famous for his view that if staff morale is low, then you must be doing something right. There is something so profoundly dysfunctional about this remark that it could form the basis of a psychology module.
But what are schools for ? Merely preparation for work ? Preparation for life ? Personal development of the students ? Creating a passion for discovery ? Matching the educational achievements (though let's hope not the child suicide rates) of the far East ?
If we have a frankly coercive school system where parents are fined for children's absence, and where attendance is compulsory throughout childhood, then we owe more to the kids than the 'achievement' of a nugatory bunch of certificates (or not) and the illusion of a good job.
We do not have the right to waste years of life in compulsory education without giving something of real substance in return, without providing a real service to children and their parents.
Instead of tinkering at the margins of education, and wasting unthinkable piles of cash on discredited and doctrinaire inspection, maybe we should start again, and think about what we could really provide of use and value with a decade and more of captive time, preparing children for a future we can barely envisage.
A product of a boys' grammar school in the sixties I was about 14 years old when it dawned that the school and its teachers had no interest whatsoever in me as a young person, and saw me merely as another exam statistic, and a chance to enhance its Oxbridge tally.
My education was highly effective in transmitting undue deference to authority, however crackpot and undeserving, and also in teaching a whole bunch of irrelevancies which were twenty years out of date even then.
As far as my school was concerned, literature stopped at some date as close to Shakespeare's death as teachers could pretend, while Shakespeare himself was close to sainthood.
Science made little recognition of Rutherford splitting the atom, and had all the excitement of a museum storeroom.
Geography (ah ! geography !) was an endless list of places and products (Shotton: Steel. Nottingham: lace.) and the real interest came from watching chalk dust drift Brownian dances in the tired sunlight of lost afternoons.
The masters (yes, masters) taught with a stern humourlessness and reinforced discipline with casual brutality. That is not too strong a word and is carefully chosen.
It was clear to me then that my school was serving some purpose other than my development or interest, which Is why I became so frequently absent both from it and within it. Perfecting anonymous and effortless invisibility was a key lesson from those days, and it has served me well through my entire life.
Then I must have hated learning. Not at all. I hated being taught, which is different. Particularly being taught by the authoritarian pygmies who mistook fear for respect and derived their power from status rather than stature.
That school would have pleased the Saints Michael (Gove and Wilshaw). Wilshaw, playing the role of over-assertive Baptist to Gove's Messiah is famous for his view that if staff morale is low, then you must be doing something right. There is something so profoundly dysfunctional about this remark that it could form the basis of a psychology module.
But what are schools for ? Merely preparation for work ? Preparation for life ? Personal development of the students ? Creating a passion for discovery ? Matching the educational achievements (though let's hope not the child suicide rates) of the far East ?
If we have a frankly coercive school system where parents are fined for children's absence, and where attendance is compulsory throughout childhood, then we owe more to the kids than the 'achievement' of a nugatory bunch of certificates (or not) and the illusion of a good job.
We do not have the right to waste years of life in compulsory education without giving something of real substance in return, without providing a real service to children and their parents.
Instead of tinkering at the margins of education, and wasting unthinkable piles of cash on discredited and doctrinaire inspection, maybe we should start again, and think about what we could really provide of use and value with a decade and more of captive time, preparing children for a future we can barely envisage.
Sunday 8 December 2013
Not drowning but waving
About to leap into the bath this morning, something caught my eye....
Goodbye, cruel world.....
Wednesday 4 December 2013
£50 fuel bill reduction
How generous our government is.
After years of annual above-inflation price rises, the government flails around thinking of what to do. Neither the Labour Party nor the government appears to have any clear idea of how to rein in the feral multinationals, nor the avaricious energy companies.
So, erecting impotence into policy, the Labour Party offers 20 months price freeze, should it be elected. The government counters with a £50 reduction in energy bills.
The small print ?
The reduction will be available in full to dual-fuel customers. The rest will get less. And those, like me, who depend on oil through a lack of a gas supply rather than through choice, well, who knows what we will get.
Let's work with the maximum: £50.00. 365 days in most years, so that works out at less than £1 per week, less than 14 pence a day.
Call me Mr Grumps, but that seems a pretty insulting reduction to me.
Worse. The latest price rise this autumn means that in my bill my winter fuel allowance PLUS the reduction will not cover the increase alone.
The government just doesn't have the will to fix this problem. Look at the years it has taken to wake up to the problem. The Labour Party, too. And what is their big idea ? A temporary one-off reduction of a handsome 14 pence per week.
If the problem is going to be fixed, it will take us, the customers, to fix it.
Here's an idea. If we divvy up the days of the week to a bunch of surnames - eg surnames A, B, C, D take Monday, E to I take Tuesday and so on, we can arrange for each group to live without energy for that day each week. At a stroke we reduce the energy companies take by a seventh. That's got to hurt. Stepping up to two days a week might be necessary. But we could beat them at their own game if we got together.
Come on. Unplug your stuff. Let's take them on. If we don;t, nobody will. That's for sure.
After years of annual above-inflation price rises, the government flails around thinking of what to do. Neither the Labour Party nor the government appears to have any clear idea of how to rein in the feral multinationals, nor the avaricious energy companies.
So, erecting impotence into policy, the Labour Party offers 20 months price freeze, should it be elected. The government counters with a £50 reduction in energy bills.
The small print ?
The reduction will be available in full to dual-fuel customers. The rest will get less. And those, like me, who depend on oil through a lack of a gas supply rather than through choice, well, who knows what we will get.
Let's work with the maximum: £50.00. 365 days in most years, so that works out at less than £1 per week, less than 14 pence a day.
Call me Mr Grumps, but that seems a pretty insulting reduction to me.
Worse. The latest price rise this autumn means that in my bill my winter fuel allowance PLUS the reduction will not cover the increase alone.
The government just doesn't have the will to fix this problem. Look at the years it has taken to wake up to the problem. The Labour Party, too. And what is their big idea ? A temporary one-off reduction of a handsome 14 pence per week.
If the problem is going to be fixed, it will take us, the customers, to fix it.
Here's an idea. If we divvy up the days of the week to a bunch of surnames - eg surnames A, B, C, D take Monday, E to I take Tuesday and so on, we can arrange for each group to live without energy for that day each week. At a stroke we reduce the energy companies take by a seventh. That's got to hurt. Stepping up to two days a week might be necessary. But we could beat them at their own game if we got together.
Come on. Unplug your stuff. Let's take them on. If we don;t, nobody will. That's for sure.
Monday 2 December 2013
Love this sign
My Californian son sent me some pictures of a family trip to collect a Christmas tree. Among them was this sign, which is so delightful.
We don't seem to have this happy skill of making a point in a fun way here.
Seeing this sign, I guess every parent laughs, and holds that hand tighter, too.
We don't seem to have this happy skill of making a point in a fun way here.
Seeing this sign, I guess every parent laughs, and holds that hand tighter, too.
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