One indicator of changing attitudes to Christianity is the lessening degree of outrage over the evergreen argument about replacing BC/AD with BCE/CE in dates. Yesterday’s Telegraph had the latest iteration of this hardy perennial. It was a relatively restrained and educational account, despite a word from zombie archbishop George Carey.
A number of [school] authorities have already adopted the policy, while several more are reported to be considering making the switch from the traditional to the more politically-correct chronological form compulsory.
Compare this with the version in the Evening Standard some 15 years ago, and one can see that a choleric splutter is on its way to becoming a resigned shrug. Continue reading “BC, BCE, and the hypocrisy of academic dating”
I was once privileged to take part, some 32 years ago, in the commemorations of this day on Anzac Hill, overlooking Alice Springs. Although, I don’t think, growing up, I had heard anything about the Anzac campaign, or had ever heard of Gallipoli, by then, having lived in Australia for a few months, I knew rather more about it.
The first I really remember becoming aware of it was in 1981, seeing one of the most powerful anti- war films ever made, Peter Weir’s Gallipoli. In my memory it was elegiac in its simplicity, striking in its effective use of Jean-Michel Jarre’s Oxygene and Albinoni’s Adagio as twin themes offsetting each other, and a gut-punch in its freeze frame ending of sprinter Archy Hamilton (Mark Lee) breasting an imaginary finishing tape of his last run, not white as in all his past races, but the red of blood and bullets. If you haven’t seen it, I still recommend it as worth watching.
But in commemoration today, here’s first one of the most powerful folk songs commemorating it by ex-pat Scot Eric Bogle (and I’m not normally a folk music person). I think in my mind the mood created by the film is somehow intertwined with this song. And after that a collect from A Prayer Book for Australia for use on Anzac Day.
O God, our ruler and guide,
in whose hands are the destinies of this and every nation,
we give you thanks for the freedoms we enjoy in this land
and for those who laid down their lives to defend them:
We pray that we and all the people of Australia,
gratefully remembering their courage and their sacrifice,
may have grace to live in a spirit of justice,
of generosity and of peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Somewhat by chance I heard of Mow Cop as an interesting ruined castle worth visiting with a camera. And despite rather harsh and contrasty sunlight, it was. Oddly, this must be the worst signposted castle in the UK. It was almost as though they didn’t want visitors. There are no signs at all, even close to the actual ruins.
What I hadn’t known until I saw this stone, was that this was the place where the Primitive Methodists originated. You go out for an interesting image, and come in with a better grasp of English and religious history.
I’d heard of them as a more protestant, revivalist, and lay movement. I hadn’t realised where they originated in the Potteries.
Photography is a very educational hobby.