HISTORY is not what it used to be — or, at least, Shakespeare’s history plays aren’t. In my youth, with their succession of usurpation, beheading, and murder, they were fascinating as works of drama, but they were essentially about times other than our own
“OUR memories are who we are.” As Horizon: Curing Alzheimer’s (BBC2, Wednesday of last week) progressed, I felt more and more inclined to agree with the likely subjective truth of the presenter’s bald statement
ARE WE essentially just one element of the natural world, or, by reason of our God-given intellect and immortal souls, do we stand, in contrast, over against it? This theological conundrum was explored in purely secular terms by Forest, Field and Sky: Art out of
“THIS is God’s gift; it would be wrong to refuse it.” A generally admirable sentiment, but hardly when offered as theological justification for an act of adultery
WE HAVE all been part of group photographs at family gatherings; we have all experienced the fun and frustration of trying to find where Great Aunt Agatha has wandered off to, or of encouraging the children to face the right way. But, usually, one of us is not wearing the imperial state crown
IS IT better to belong, with all the compromise and time-consuming negotiation that comes with that territory, or is it better to be separate, to make your moral choices unfettered, to allow your God-given particularity to develop in isolation?
This is, of course,
"How To Stay Young was one of the scariest programmes I have ever watched"
THE age-old argument between faith and works is being played out in BBC1’s Sunday-evening series Paul O’Grady: The Sally Army and me. O’Grady is expressing a lifetime’s admiration for the Army by sharing in its life, tasting its officers’ training, and, above all, taki...
Gillean Craig reviews Kate Bottley's In The Footsteps of Judas and Robert Beckford’s The Battle for Christianity
THE Archbishop of Canterbury was asked: what is your favourite moment of Easter? Would it be, I wondered, the first flickering into flame of the Easter fire? Or the moment when, after the six weeks of Lenten famine, the first Alleluia! rings out in glory?
ORAL tradition in the Church of England relishes the occasion, in the 1970s, when a certain seminary set deep in the Oxfordshire countryside abandoned its students on the streets of London with only a ten-shilling note apiece to see them through the weekend, so that they might glimpse for themselves the bitter experience of destitution