Tag Archives: religion

He Who Sups

“Have you seen my long spoon?”

“No, why do you need that bent old thing anyway? It’s caked in rust and falling apart”.

“I’m off to sup with the devil”.

“Ah, I understand, he who sups with the devil should use a long spoon”.

“Precisely so”.

“But you are God, surely the lord of the universe doesn’t require a long spoon to protect himself from the prince of darkness?”

“You don’t understand. It’s a tradition. Without tradition where would we be?”

“But, with respect, you are the supreme being, can’t you create a new long spoon?”

“But I was extremely fond of the old one. Where can it be?”

“Perhaps the devil is using it to stir up trouble on earth”.

“That is a terrible joke and unworthy of an ark angel”.

“No, seriously sire your long spoon is ideally suited for stirring up humanity”.

“You may have a point. Really it isn’t good enough. Satan should be content with that fearsome pitch fawk of his but, no he has to go and steal my long spoon”.

“Excuse me sire, what is that you are sitting on?”

“Oh, its my long spoon, heaven be praised. Oh heavens I’ll have to apologise to Lucifer, fancy accusing him of stealing it like that”.

“Well sire I guess there has to be a first time for everything …”.

Richard Dawkins Believes Fairytales May Be Harmful

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Richard Dawkins is a very clever man but his militant atheism is just as bigoted as the religiosity of fundamentalist believers, http://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/professor-richard-dawkins-claims-fairy-tales-are-harmful-to-children-9489287.html

Islamification Of Birmingham Schools

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The Telegraph reports on the ongoing investigations in to whether Islamic radicals attempted to islamify Birmingham schools. The Office For Standards In Education (OFSTED) is investigating claims that teachers who voiced opposition to the alleged plans where passed over for promotion in favour of more compliant colleagues. Other allegations include pupils being suspended for holding hands and girls being treated as second class citizens with some teachers favouring boys over them. If true this is deeply worrying.

For the article please visit http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/educationnews/10790441/Guide-to-school-Islamisation-by-ringleader-of-Trojan-Horse-plot.html

I had an adventure nun-the-less.

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I had an adventure nun-the-less

Many thanks to Cupitonians for the following excellent post about her experiences in Tanzania. Like Cupitonians, I also attended a religious school, but that is, as they say, another story.

So I landed in Tanzania, not knowing a soul. I was in touch with a contact of a contact. They had never met each other before but you know what they say about leaps of faith and trust. The only thing I did know was that I was meant to meet a nun from the Ursuline congregation. My dad, being the resourceful guy that he is, googled the habit(uniform) of the nun so that I wouldn’t be confused by the hordes of religious people that would haunt the airport. He had a point, any third world country is jam packed with missionaries (read priests and nuns) who are there to alleviate poverty and other religious phrases I’m too lazy to google.

I landed in a bathroom sized airport, grinned from ear to ear because I was finally in a country I had dreamed of being in since I was 7. I was apprehensive. What if my contact wouldn’t be there? I knew no one, knew nothing, had heard horror stories of tourists being taken for a ride and left for near dead. Dread started to fill me but I put my brave face on as I walked out the airport doors, backpack in tow. My fear quickly faded as I spotted the habit of the contact and I quickly walked to her. She hugged me and I was relieved to hear her speak English to me. Contrary to popular belief, English is NOT the first or official language of Tanzania. It’s Swahili.

Stella, that was her name, had lived in Canada for a while and so knew English and was confident and full of stories and questions that kept my mind off the fact that a few minutes after my arrival, I was shoved into a bus with too small seats and a goat under me that kept nipping at my feet. 4 hours later, we reached a beautiful area with a mountain right outside the window of the room they gave me. I watched the palm and banana trees and the sun set brilliantly behind that mountain and I smiled. I didn’t realize Africa could be so green. I already knew it would blow me away.

My dinner was a plate of spaghetti, another thing that took me by surprise. I had no idea that Tanzanians were into pasta. Later on in my trip though, I found out that the Ursuline congregation is an Italian one and no matter the poverty around, the nuns and priests of any congregation always ate well. This was further proved by my breakfast feast of fresh bread and butter and the most amazing cup of black coffee that was ever brewed.

The next day, Stella and her sister bought me a pair of Tanzanian styled clothes that were commonly worn in that area and we set off on another bus journey, this time a 12 hour one through all sorts of sceneries. We finally reached a deserted place that finally looked like the Africa you would see in documentaries. The land was parched and dry, little malnourished kids roamed the streets, caked in mud but in the middle of this, the nuns had created an oasis. Flowers were blooming and well watered, there were beautiful buildings with stained glass dotting the perimeter. The stained glass shadows on the dry earth made it look like we were walking on rainbow streets.

The nuns were all at the road and welcomed me with a song and dance number. This is one of the most shocking things I found in Tanzania. I studied in a convent school and so my idea of nuns was that they were poker faced and strict and that the idea of “fun” was indoctrinated out of them and yet in front of me, their voices came out together in harmony and they moved like their body was moulded to dance.

I spent a 4 -5 months with different religious communities across Tanzania and learnt a lot of things about the religious life.

There are so many youngsters who join the church because the alternative is rape, hunger and poverty. The church provides you shelter, healthy meals, a job and respect.
On account of them joining such closed communities, the maturity levels of most of the nuns remain the same as when they joined. Because they are sheltered and they grow up with just girls their age, I found that the nuns, no matter their age, acted more like shy preteen girls than anything else.
The priests, on the other hand, get more opportunities to travel, see the world, interact with more people and enjoy more power in the society. Therefore, they have cars, big houses, even better food and a chance to be treated as royalty by the community. They enjoy rich and generous gifts.
On account of this, priests believe they are God’s gift to women kind and so think it their duty to hit on any nun or any foreigner they see. I have been approached by more priests than I can count.
Sex is such a natural instinct among Tanzanians that people struggle to come to terms with the restrictions religion has placed on them. I remember one nun saying in a matter of fact way that the church allows you to have one wife but you can also have one mistress. I’ve also heard many stories of women having hysterectomies so they don’t have to deal with pregnancies.
The nuns are truly charitable. I have seen development and schools where you could never imagine there would be one. They have done more for the nation than the government has.
That being said, they are still very orthodox in their ways of thinking. I was once part of a very interesting debate between a very well educated priest and nun when the nun said that she was the wife of Christ
They are essentially good people,
They care so much about the way they look. I have been on shopping trips across mountains where the nuns buy stockings and black stylish shoes. They are so stylish and well-kept that I often felt out of place during pass and other public events
They pray 5 times a day and since I was lived for free with them, I was obliged to attend all five. Suffice to say, I haven’t seen the inside of a church since 2012.

A visit to Africa

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Many thanks to Cupitonians: http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/ for allowing me to bully her into writing another excellent guest post!

Thank you A.!

‘For Africa to me… is more than a glamorous fact. It is a historical truth. No man can know where he is going unless he knows exactly where he has been and exactly how he arrived at his present place

Maya Angelou

I went to Africa on a whim. I woke up one day and realised that I just needed to be somewhere raw and real, doing some hands on work. I was tired of writing, tired of the city and just plain jaded. A twenty something year old should never be that way. In that state of despair, I suddenly remembered an old friend from when I had lived in France and got in touch with her. She had promised that whenever I gathered the guts to go to Africa, I should write to her and she would make it happen. She put me in touch with a nun who worked on several projects in the interiors of Tanzania. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t know what I would do, where I would go and how long I would be there for but I just knew I had to go.

My trip was planned in less than 2 weeks – the tickets were booked, the injections taken and my mum loaded me with herbal anti malaria balls. I am a control freak and had decided that since I was taking this leap of faith, I might as well go all out and do no research. Instead, I decided to embrace whatever came my way, just as it was. Before I knew it, I was packed and suddenly found myself in a small bedroom sized airport that had a dilapidated old sign that read “Dar es Salaam”.

I was grinning from ear to ear, which made the visa officials really suspicious till they realised I was just plain crazy. I was shuffling about in a room packed with tourists. 50 dollars later, I had my passport stamped and I was free to wander about the great wilderness. I went out of the airport-room to find myself surrounded by highrise buildings, beautifully tarred wide roads, Mercedes Benz’s just cruising about like they just didn’t care.

Brilliant!

I had just taken off from one city to another. In fact, this city had a 3G phone connection, something even good old Bangalore, IT Capital of India, didn’t have. I was very dissappointed. The nun met me at the airport. I didn’t really know if anyone would come pick me up but I was glad she was there. We took a very luxurious taxi while I stewed inside myself. And then I suddenly found myself in a busy bus station, people everywhere trying to haul bags off you and load them into local buses. I managed to escape most of the crowd, dodged little kids pointing at me, saying “Mzungu, Mzungu!” (which is the Kiswahili word for “white person”) and got into the smallest bus in the history of the world.

I don’t mean small literally, it was a big enough bus on the outside. But when you got in, the seats were so cramped together that even a short person like me had to sit with her legs up on the seat so I don’t hurt my knees. I was stirred out of my thoughts by the nun putting her hands on my shoulder and saying “Are you okay?”. Apparently I was smiling too widely for a first time visitor. Shouldn’t I freak out?

“No, this is my childhood dream come true! Why would I be anything but ecstatic?”, I wanted to say. Instead, I tempered my reactions and was lulled into sleep by the moving motion of the bus.

I went to Tanzania, assuming I’d be there a month. I stayed a whole year. And in that time, I lived with the Maasai Tribe, lived on the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Worked at pre-schools, clincs, and orphanages that spanned the country. And while my experiences make for exciting stories to be told over a drink or to be written in a Lord of the Rings Saga, it is something I will never have words enough to explain.

I was lucky because I didn’t do the touristy things. I moved from project to project, living with real people, experiencing life as a local and instead of waxing ad nauseum, here are a few photos that will paint a better picture.’

No filter sunrise

Monduli Mountains and the Savannah

Maasai Woman

Local women campaigning for their local leaders

Local Market

An old forgotten Cave

A typical Maasai House

Zanzibar

The View From my room at Kili

The Sugar Mills at Kilombero

The Stoves

The Lion King

The First Humanoid Excavated

The Egyptian Cobra

The Black Mamba

Sunrise at Tanga

Pink Lake – Ngorongoro Crater

Darwin Day Lecture 2014 – How To Make A Human

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On Tuesday evening I received a call from my friend John. It was good news as he had managed to obtain 2 tickets for the Darwin Day Lecture, How To Make A Human which takes place on 12 February 2014, https://humanism.org.uk/civi/?page=CiviCRM&q=civicrm/event/info&page=CiviCRM&id=41&snippet=2. I have some issues with Humanism (the lecture is hosted by The British Humanist Association) but, none the less the event promises to be an interesting one.

As an aside, for anyone who is interested, my issue with Humanism is that many Humanists are, in my experience just as dogmatic in their assertions regarding the non-existence of God as religious people are in their’s that he exists. I am, in contrast an agnostic, one who sits on the fence. The only problem with sitting on the fence is, of course that I risk getting splinters in a rather delicate place!

Kevin

Book Review: Kevin Cooper’s The Devils Apology (Kindle Edition)

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The Satan we meet in Kevin Cooper’s “The Devils Apology” is very different from the being portrayed in Milton’s Paradise Lost, or is he? Cooper’s Devil describes a vengeful god who, not content with ruling his own realm forceably encroaches on Lucifer’s kingdom. The devil is forced to defend his kingdom and it is only through bad luck that god (rather than Satan) is victorious. In an amusing passage Lucifer describes how he punched God in the face rendering him ugly. This is, he informs us why God will never show himself to humanity.

Throughout Satan is persuasive and the reader, as with the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil, begins to warm to him. However we ought to remember that it is the devil with whom we are dealing. The silver tongued serpent, described by Milton, who will say or do anything to obtain his ends. Can we believe a word he says? Alternatively is it God who has been hood winking us into believing his version of events and is the devil a much maligned creature? You decide. For “The Devils Apology” please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Devils-Apology-Kevin-Cooper-ebook/dp/B00ELN2EK6

Me Meandering

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In trying to create utopia be careful lest your own inadequacies led to the creation of hell. Rather than dealing with deep rooted psychological problems there is a tendency for man to exert himself in the direction of saving the world. A noble aim but be wary that in your attempt your own inadequacies are not foisted upon mankind. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Look inside yourself and ask why am I acting in this manner? Am I perhaps failing to grapple with my own demons by choosing to fight those of others? Utopia has as many forms as there are men and women, be wary of those (including yourself) who claim to know the absolute truth. Those convinced that they hold the key to human happiness may hold the keys to hell.

The Call Girl

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Suzie winced as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Was this the same Suzie Jeffries, the daughter of Mark Jeffries, the vicar of Little Compton in the Marshes? The same Suzie who had as a teenager delighted the congregation of All Saints church with her singing? Her father and the congregation would suffer a group seizure where Suzie to appear before them now dressed as a sixth form schoolgirl. But the client had been very specific,

“I want an 18-year-old girl to dress up like a naughty schoolgirl”.

In the world of escorting the client is always right so a sixth form schoolgirl is what would be delivered, by taxi to his hotel in 45 minutes or so.

Sitting in the back of the taxi Suzie wondered, as she so often did just how the daughter of an Anglican clergyman had become embroiled in the world of prostitution.

Charlie wasn’t anything like the privately educated men with whom Suzie normally associated. That was what had first attracted Suzie to Charlie.

“OK darling cars fine now. She’ll go like a dream”.

“Thank you. How much do I owe?”

“Well darling it should be £400 but if you go for a drink with me lets call it £250” he had said with a smile.

Suzie wasn’t used to being called darling but there was something slightly dashing and perhaps a little dangerous about Charlie which sent a tingle down her spine. What did her friend Amanda call men like Charlie? “a bit of rough”. Well if Mandy could have her “bit of rough” why shouldn’t she have her fun also. God those boys from the local congregation where wet behind the ears, she needed a real man.

“OK that would be lovely” she had replied.

That evening she had met Charlie in the Hare and Hounds. They had got very drunk and ended up having sex in the back of his car while parked up in a country lane.

“I wanna see you again babe, show you the bright lights of the smoke. You’re something special babe. Really straight up, no bull shit, you’re amazing”.

Suzie had lapped up the compliments as a thirsty man drinks water on reaching a well in the desert. None of the men she had met through the church made her feel that thrill of excitement. She was, Suzie thought in love with a real man.

Soon afterwards they had moved to London. Of course her parents had hit the roof. Not only was Suzie “living in sin” but she had chosen to do so with a man who, in the view of her parents was her social inferior.

“A mechanic, you are throwing yourself away. You could do so much better” her mother had said.

As is so often the case the objections of Suzie’s parents only served to drive their daughter further into the arms of her lover.

“Hypocrites, that is what you are. The church preaches equality but you tell me that Charlie isn’t good enough just because he grew up on a council estate and he doesn’t speak with a plumby accent. You make me sick” Suzie had said as she left the vicarage banging the door behind her.

In London things haden’t gone well. Charlie had found a job as a mechanic but soon lost it due to his heavy drinking. He found another but lost that also for the same reason. After having lost 4 jobs in quick succession word spread through the grapevine that anyone thinking of employing Charlie Johnston as a mechanic should think again. Offers of employment dried up leaving the couple dependent on the meagre income which Suzie’s work as a cleaner brought in.

“Do you love me Suz?”

“Of course I do Charlie” Suzie had said kissing her boyfriend on the lips.

“Suz where up shit creek without a paddle. I can’t see any way out of it unless …”

“Unless what darling?”

“Forget it”.

“Forget what Charlie?”

“Suz you know I love you” Charlie said putting his arms around Suzie.

“Yes sweetheart and I love you to, I’d do anything for you”.

“Suz there was this ad in the paper”, Charlie paused.

“Ad?”

“Forget it Suz, it isn’t a good idea”.

“Forget what?”

“Would you really do anything for me?”

“You know I would”.

“Suz a company’s looking for girls to keep men company”.

“No Charlie, you are having a laugh aren’t you? Please tell me that you are having a laugh. I’ll do anything but that!”

“Suz it’s just company, nothing dodgy I rang up and asked”.

“You did what?!” Suzie exclaimed.

“OK forget it. I thought you loved me but obviously you don’t give a shit. Just fuck off back to mummy and daddy” Charlie had stormed.

Suzie began to cry,

“I love you Charlie. I’ll do anything but don’t ask me to do that”.

“Stuck up little miss proper won’t do it” Charlie had sneered.

“I can’t. I just can’t”.

“You don’t love me Suz I may as well bugger off” Charlie had said throwing his clothes into a suitcase.

“No my love, please don’t leave me” Suzie had said tears running down her face.

“You don’t love me Suz.

“I do, I’ll do it just please, please stay”.

“Oh babe I love you. Come here” he had said taking Suzie into his arms.

The next evening Suzie had been sent by the agency to see her first punter. The man had, quite naturally expected sex.

“No I’m sorry I can’t do that” Suzie had said.

“Look sweetheart all the girls do it, you are in the wrong fucking job!”

“Can you give me a moment please?”

The man had shrugged. Suzie had walked out into the hallway and called Charlie,

“The man wants sex” she said in a voice shaking with emotion.

“I love you Suz, you know that. I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless things where desperate but please do it for me. I mean do it for us Suz. You know we need the money”.

Suzie had gone back into the bedroom and feeling like a robot had allowed the client to perform on her. Following her first encounter with a client she had, over time become used to prostituting herself. Suzie clung to the belief that Charlie loved her and that prostitution was merely a temporary interlude before he obtained a job as a mechanic and she could give up escorting. However she was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that Charlie regarded her as anything other than a meal ticket. There relationship was dying. In fact it had died long ago Suzie thought as the taxi moved through the London traffic.

“What would daddy think of me now?” Suzie thought as she pulled her long coat close attempting to hide the school uniform. Prostitution was a sin and her father frequently preached against sexual immorality. She would, according to him be consigned to the flames of hell fire. Such a moral and upstanding member of the community he would die of shame where he to see his little girl now.

The taxi pulled up outside the hotel. Suzie stepped out of the cab, paid the driver and headed for the hotel’s foya. She took the lift to the second floor and as instructed by the agency knocked on room number 22. The door was opened by an elderly gentleman wearing only a bath towel.

“Oh suffering Christ!” he said staggering back into the room. Suzie stood frozen to the spot,

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” she exclaimed.

Does the devil still ride out?

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On 23 March I wrote “The Collector” (http://www.freeproxy-us.appspot.com/newauthoronline.com/2013/03/23/the-collector/) which tells the story of an encounter between Brian and a satanic presence. Ever since reading “The Devil Rides Out” by Denis Wheatley I have had a passing interest in the supernatural. Wheatley as with many other Christians believes that the devil or Satan is a being or force capable of manifesting itself to those who worship Satan. In “The Devil Rides Out” there is a struggle between the forces of good (the right hand path) and those of evil (the left hand path) resulting in the triumph of the former and the destruction of the Satanist coven.

One might think that Satanists believe in a horned god who bestows power and prestige on his followers. There are certainly Satanists who hold that Satan is an actual force or being to be worshiped in return for wealth and power. However there are also so-called atheist Satanists who hold that Satan does not exist. To such people Satan is a symbolic figure representing the struggle of humans to be free from constraints, to live their lives as they choose. The main organisation promoting this view is the Church of Satan which was founded in the mid 1960’s. Yesterday evening I spent a couple of hours watching a documentary on the Church of Satan (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlQTLovsKaI).

The adherents of the Church of Satan believe in sexual freedom between consenting adults an idea with which many non-followers of the organisation would agree. Of concern is the organisations belief in a form of social Darwinism in which “the strong” have the right to laud it over “the weak”. As one believer expresses it in the documentary the “bum” on the street is of less importance than the CEO of a major company and society should be organised to promote inequality. Of course most people accept that to varying degrees inequality is inevitable and that a certain amount may be desirable in a free society. However this view is tempered by a belief in the moral obligation of people to assist the less fortunate via welfare programmes and/or personal charity. So far as I can ascertain there is no such belief among the adherents of the Church of Satan. Their rituals place emphasis on “tooth and claw” for, as animals we are part of the process of natural selection in which the weak will either perish or become subservient to the strong. Most religions emphasise compassion, not so the Church of Satan.

According to the Church of Satan there is no hell. They may well be right in this view. However the doctrines of the Church with it’s emphasis on the Satanic elites could result in the creation of hell on earth.