Faith in aliens….

I am not a famous ex-anything.  I’m not an ex-premier league footballer making even more of my millions. I’m not an ex-MP or ex-minister of Her Majesty, who makes TV documentaries about trains wearing brightly coloured clothes. In particular, I am not an ex-astronaut. I don’t regret not having played professional football (being fairly uninterested in the amateur variety). And, although sometimes it has had its attractions to my argumentative side, I don’t regret not being involved in professional politics (a tricky thing for a Christian – just ask Tim Farron). But who would not want to sit atop one of the most powerful machines ever invented, and then be blasted into orbit at unimaginable speeds, to look down on this blue jewel we all call home, or to look outward with unimpeded clarity at the stars? Too much? Anyway, the point is, I’m not an ex-astronaut. But some people are.

Helen Sharman is. She belongs to a select club that numbers just over 550. And, of course, she also has the additional distinction of being one a very few female ex-astronauts. In May 1991, after 18 months of intensive training, she blasted off in a Russian rocket, to conduct an 8-day mission on the Soviet Mir space station. Most of her time was spent running experiments. I have always assumed that astronauts are quite bright (this is partly about rocket science after all). As well expertise in science or engineering (Sharman’s background is in chemistry), there are all the other things you have to master connected to flying into, and then operating, in space. It’s a complex, difficult and dangerous environment. Since her return, she has busied herself as a science communicator and populariser, has received several honours from the Queen and the Royal Society of Chemistry and a host of honorary degrees from a list of universities. And she does occasional media interviews.

One of these interviews was published in the Guardian earlier this month. It was notable because it generated relatively little comment about one particular aspect of what she was quoted as having said. 

On the subject of aliens:

“Aliens exist, there’s no two ways about it. There are so many billions of stars out there in the universe that there must be all sorts of different forms of life. Will they be like you and me, made up of carbon and nitrogen? Maybe not. It’s possible they’re here right now and we simply can’t see them.”

(published in The Guardian, Jan 5th, 2020)

I have no reason to believe that this was said “tongue-in-cheek”, or was a random, throwaway statement. It is a view, an opinion, and a statement of faith. It is not stated as a hypothesis - a provisional statement of affairs, waiting to be tested and supported (or refuted) by evidence. That would make it a kind of scientific statement, with the weight and authority that such statements have (or at least should have). Helen is clear and emphatic: aliens exist. Indeed they “must” exist. She is basing this on a statistical argument (not evidence), that has been around for a while. But it’s an argument, based on an intuition, not an observation. The intuition is that we are not alone; it is widely shared. Is there any evidence that this intuition will be satisfied by the discovery of alien life? No. This is an exercise in faith. There is no evidence to support either the substantive assertion or the possibility that is alluded to. And it’s not that the evidence is lacking for want of effort.

The “search for extra-terrestrial intelligence” has gone on in one sense probably since the first human looked to the sky. In its modern form it began in earnest with the discovery of radio. Apparently Tesla suggested that his newly invented wireless could be used to contact beings on Mars. New technology brought new suggestions and opportunities. In the 1950’s it was searches in the microwave range. In the 1960’s it was searches in other frequency bands with radio telescopes. Then in the 1970’s NASA took up the reigns, spending large sums on various projects designed to search for signs of life out in the further reaches of space. Eventually NASA’s funding for SETI projects was cut (although efforts come and go to restore it), and the SETI institute carried on projects with private funding. There have been sizeable donations to the effort. Paul Allen, the co-founder of Microsoft, notably donated a sum in the region of $25M to support SETI. So a cumulatively large sum, running into tens of, if not hundreds of millions of US$, have been spent on this search. Some of the science along the way may well have been impressive. But (so far) the search has turned up nothing coming close to the evidence being searched for.

But who needs evidence. Aliens are real and probably among us, right? There is a bit of a double standard going on here. There are things that I claim that are clearly statements of faith. I’m apt to claim that the life of Jesus of Nazareth has significance beyond the historical and sociological. But this is based not on faith, but on facts. The faith bit is about the response, not the foundation. There are a number of well-attested and constantly investigated facts that lead me to believe certain things about Jesus (facts about what he said and did). The facts are of course contested, and even the concept of “fact” can be a bit slippery. But there is an evidence base to be engaged with. The facts are of a specific type of course. They are historical facts, and therefore the kind of investigation and validation that is necessary belongs to the discipline of history, not science. Other disciplines also have a role, because these facts are attested to by documents – in the main the Bible. But facts there are, none-the-less.

Evidence, disputed and debated as it is, is available to be disputed and debated, probed and weighted. Potentially, an awful lot hangs on the outcome of such investigations into the claims, work, death and (claimed) resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Much more than is the case for the non-evidenced claim that aliens exist.

New atheism’s old problem(s)

Christmas ratings suggest that the demise of network TV may have been overstated. Here in the UK the BBC’s new Dracula drama (a co-production with Netflix) has been praised by the critics and watched by millions. My interest was piqued by quotes attributed to its co-creators, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, self-described “ageing atheists”. The thrust was that in their version of the story they had set out to respect the “Christian themes” of the original Bram Stoker book. With perhaps a gentle dig as some of their theological fellow-travelers they suggest that there’s something in these themes to be taken seriously. The cross should be respected because “that icon of morality built a civilisation”. Their broader point seems to be that Western culture has been shaped by Christianity and that the cross is a symbol that still resonates. The stubborn refusal of such symbols and what they symbolise to fade from the scene, particularly given the occasional claim that science explains everything, can be usefully contrasted with "New Atheism".

“New Atheism” was dismissed in one recent article as “..a rather slight intellectual movement [that] fizzled out quickly..”; I’ve discussed its decline previously. Its celebrity proponents have faded from view, and its project seems to have moved on. God is apparently not a big problem anymore. Maybe the New Atheists feel that they’ve so conclusively refuted His existence that it would be in bad taste to continue banging on about Him. Except of course they refuted nothing, and argued things to the same standstill as the old atheists, except with less philosophical sophistication.

In terms of winning the population at large over to their views, the evidence is not that encouraging. Recent data from the US, courtesy of the Pew Centre, does show that in the US the proportion of those who self-identify as atheists doubled between 2009 and 2019, at least that’s how an atheist (old or new) might spin it. But it went up from 2% to 4%. Mind you, after more Trump, it may have gone up further. In the UK, the figure for those identifying as atheist was 8% in a 2017 survey. However, the other thing that both of these surveys show is that the real problem isn’t atheism, but apatheism – the notion that arguments about God just don’t merit a hearing. He might exist, He might not. Either way, there is no point in bothering.

Just like "new" atheism, apatheism isn’t new. It’s as old as the Bible (and probably older). It’s a state of mind and affairs that was familiar to the Old Testament prophets. God might be there, and might even matter a bit. But His existence doesn’t make any practical difference to life, so we can basically ignore Him for the most part. In modern terms, if I like old hymns, like a bit of ritual and want to hedge my bets, I can turn up occasionally to a church service. If the best school for my kids is a church school, then it will do no harm to sign on the dotted line, appear slightly more frequently, and actually learn the words of a hymn or two. This might have the added benefit of currying some favour with the Almighty. I’ll have some ticks in the good column, to balance out the ticks in the bad column. Just as long as no one takes any of it too seriously.

This is the “practical atheism” that the prophets in the Old Testament, and the Apostles in the New, railed against. It’s a kind of hypocrisy that I suspect the New Atheists would object to. At least as far as Christian, Biblical, theism goes, it makes no sense. If Jesus Christ is not who He claims to be, then he was (because He’s clearly dead, buried and decayed) either a bad or a crazy man. He was extravagantly clear in the claims He made as to who He was, what He was going to do, and how people should respond to Him. If He was wrong you should have nothing to do with Him. But, if He is who He says He is, then C.T. Studd put it well: “If Jesus Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for Him”. 

Polite respect for symbols and a wistful regret at the passing of outmoded institutions just won’t cut it. Old and new atheism’s problem (or at least one of them) has always been the cross, or more particularly the death of Jesus on the cross - a unique, Universe shaping event with eternal implications and a means of transformation for individual men and women through history. Certainly much more than an “icon of morality”.

Providence or judgement – it’s too early to tell

In 1972, the then Chinese premier Zhou Enlai was widely misquoted as saying that it was too early to tell whether the French revolution had been a success. It turns out that he was actually referring to the 1968 student uprising, not the 18^th century revolution. But why let the facts ruin a good quip. At the turn of a new year, with Boris Johnston’s new administration (it could hardly be called a new government) still to take full shape, I’ve been trying to work out what to make of recent events.

I dutifully made my way to my polling station on the 12^th December, more or less decided on which party not to vote for, but less sure who I should vote for. When it came to it, I just couldn’t put my “x” against the Conservative party candidate. Where I should put it was more of a struggle. On one level this is all entirely unimportant. We’re talking about just one vote (ie mine) in a safe Labour seat. Unlike so many in the north of England it is still a safe Labour seat. Voting Conservative in this election was a possibility simply because they were the only party on the ballot that were going to deliver on the outcome of the EU referendum. As I’ve explained before, even although I voted “remain” I think that the clear (if narrow) result of the referendum should be upheld. That’s means leaving the EU. I find none of the subsequent rewriting, rewording, rerunning, and reneging on the outcome of the referendum in any way convincing. Even had the alternatives been a lot more palatable than they were, I would still have considered voting Conservative on the basis of this one issue. But on careful reflection, I couldn’t do it. Here’s why.

I have lots of friends in the US who thought carefully about their options in the last US presidential election, and decided for a whole heap of reasons that they would vote for one Donald J. Trump. I thought, and still think, that this was a crazy decision. I understand that many of them wanted a president that would make conservative picks for the Supreme Court and I understand why this is important to them. For others there were other issues like Trump’s support of the state of Israel. What I don’t understand is why these political issues trump (as it were) the demonstrable fact that the Donald is a serial liar, with apparently little respect for truth. He has raised telling not just half-truths (the terminological inexactitude so beloved by British politicians), but full blown non-truths to a finely honed political weapon. He has systematically sought to undermine truth more widely by sowing confusion at every turn. He has branded those who have sought to hold him to account and fact check him as “fake news” peddlers. Words matter. True words matter, and false words matter. I’ve concluded that none of this is accidental, it’s policy. Neither is it because of some intellectual impairment on his part. It’s done deliberately, knowingly and with calculation. It is unforgivable because it is plain wrong; and it is corrosive.

Then there’s the issue of his attitude to women. The “Access Hollywood” tape should have killed his presidential campaign stone dead. He never fully repudiated the views he expressed, and indeed subsequently suggested that the tape is not genuine. The lack of plain human decency revealed by that particularly nasty conversation was exhibited on other occasions during the campaign, and has been exhibited time after time in his conduct as president particularly in his twitter rants. The notion that he could be re-elected, now that his basic indecency has been chronicled, observed and established, is terrifying in the extreme.

I would gently point out to my US chums that the US Supreme Court is mentioned nowhere in Scripture. But a commitment to truth is. Being careful with our words does. Integrity, honesty, decency all do. What Scripture teaches about the role of women we can argue about. What we can’t argue about is the basic respect that all are entitled to, which contrasts sharply with Trump’s attitude that debases women to the level of exploitable objects. There is such a basic disconnect between the values, attitudes and behaviours that we are called to, and those exhibited on a daily (not to say hourly) basis by the Donald. I cannot understand how so much of what Scripture calls for can be set aside, in order to obtain questionable temporal objectives that Scripture has little to say about. “Evangelicals” as a block in the US elevated arguable political gains above clear values that they should have been articulating and honouring. But what struck me on the way to polling station was that I was in danger of doing exactly the same thing.  

Brexit, the issue that nearly decided my vote, isn’t in the Bible either. Things like telling the truth are. We can argue about austerity, universal credit, NHS spending, taxation and the rest.  And we should. We can argue about whether and how we should leave the EU. Of course these things are important. But there are other things that are more important. Leading the Conservative party (by their active choice) is a man whose basic dishonesty over a long period should have disqualified him from high office. Boris has, after all, lost two jobs (one in journalism, one in politics) for telling straight out lies. And there was no obvious evidence in the election campaign that he has any regrets about what has been the hallmark of his basic approach to life as well as politics. This is enough to disqualify him from high office in the estimation of some who politically share many of his views. And while he hasn’t quite had an “Access Hollywood” moment, there are doubts about his attitude to women and family. I know that in our system all politics is about compromise, and if I’m waiting for what I think is perfection, I’ll be dead and in the glory before it arrives. But I only had one vote to cast, and basic issues of honesty, truth telling and decency determined how it wasn’t cast. Because our elections are a secret ballot, I don't need to let slip here how it was cast.

But given that even without my one vote Boris still got his “stonking” victory, did I just get it wrong? Well, that’s clearly logical possible. But I have my responsibilities, and I leave it to the Almighty to decide the big issue of who gets power. His perspective is bigger, deeper and longer than mine. Bigger forces were at work, and always are. Underpinning the stuff we see is a deeper reality of a God who continues to work His purposes out. It may turn out that, in ways invisible to me, Boris is just the right man for the times. Just the man to get us through the Brexit morass we find ourselves in (for which he is partly responsible after all). If we do get out of the situation we’re in with anything like limited damage, this will not reflect on Boris’ brilliance, although undoubtedly political hubris will impel him to claim exactly that. It will be providence protecting us from ourselves – again.

Of course it could be that things are going to go from bad to worse. The predictions of the remainers will turn out to be spot on, and we will endure economic, political, security and strategic disaster. We will never reach the sun-lit uplands promised by the hard brexiteers. In that case, Boris may turn out to be a modern form of Old Testament Babylon: God’s instrument of judgment. We would certainly deserve it. There are many ways in which the culture in which we find ourselves is deeply dysfunctional. I’m partly to blame of course by not being the salt and light that I should be. For all that, although we Christians may moan about the state of the UK, the fact is that compared to many of our brothers and sisters elsewhere we’ve actually had it very easy for a very long time. Maybe the ease, freedom and relative order we’ve enjoyed partly explains out lack of saltiness. Maybe it is coming to an end. I have no way of knowing. 

Time will tell. It’s too early to know which way it will go.  

Christmas Reflections III - Even angels can learn...

There was stuff going on that first Christmas that was normal and ordinary, and then there was the other stuff. The stuff that was neither normal nor ordinary. We sometimes patronise the characters in the Christmas story as primitives who didn’t know what we know. That’s why they could believe promises that clearly were not believable. So writers like Luke concoct stories that we know can’t be true and therefore are at best mythology, rather than history. The problem is, this isn’t what they claim to be doing, and it’s not how it reads. Luke claims that he is setting out to investigate what happened and then compile an orderly account so that we may have "certainty". And his writing seems to be largely like the reporting of ordinary human responses to extraordinary events. 

Take the characters in Luke 1 blogged about previously. You don’t need to know a lot about the finer points of gynaecology, embryology and development biology to know where babies come from, and what is necessary to make them. And Zechariah and Elisabeth on the one hand, and Mary on the other, were pretty clear on both topics. Zechariah is promised a child, something that he’s wanted for years, and promised it by an impeccable source. As discussed previously, he gets himself into hot water by making it clear he is not convinced, no matter where the information comes from. This is a story that  reads like Bible, not Hollywood. Mary receives disconcerting news in a disconcerting way, and she responds with a question, which prompts a very interesting response that I’ll return to. But first, what might seem like a digression.

A couple of thousand years before the events recorded in Luke Ch1, three men appeared out of the heat haze near Abraham’s camp at a place called Mamre (you’ll find the story in Genesis 18; you’ll find Mamre just to the north of Hebron). One of the “men”, it turns out, was God himself; the other two were probably angels. A conversation ensued with Abraham, while his wife Sarah listened in the background. It’s in this conversation that God promises Abraham that Sarah will have a child, even though (spookily like Zechariah and Elisabeth) Abraham and Sarah were well on the elderly side of old. Sarah chuckles at this promise; after all it’s clearly preposterous. Like New Testament characters, Old Testament characters are not stupid; they know about making babies. God’s response is to challenge Sarah’s lack of belief by posing a question – “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”. And, of course, it turns out that delivering on promises about miracle babies if not too hard, because a child, Isaac, duly appears. This is a story Zechariah would have been familiar with, and this is perhaps one reason why Gabriel is fairly sniffy with him when he doesn’t respond appropriately to a similar promise given to him and Elisabeth. Their child would be miraculous but not unique.

Speaking of Gabriel, I’ve always wondered if he was one of the two angels with God at Mamre. He’s not named of course.  If he was there, this makes his response to Mary’s question intriguing. Because while Mary is clearly willing to accept what he tells her, she also has questions, precisely because, like Sarah, she’s knows where babies come from. Famously, Gabriel tells Mary that something entirely unique is going to happen in her to bring about her pregnancy. But he adds something else. This time it is not a question like the one posed to Abraham. It’s a statement: nothing is impossible with God. Had Gabriel been here before? Had he heard a similar promise, observed a human, and sceptical, reaction to it? Did he hear the question that God responded with? He had certainly seen the promise realised. So perhaps he has learned something. With confidence, confidence borne of experience rather than belief, he’s able to reassure Mary. Possibly.  I’m speculating of course.

The rest, as they say, really is history. Maybe angels can observe, listen, watch and learn. Maybe we should learn from them.

Christmas Reflections II – Rug weaving for beginners

I know nothing about weaving patterned rugs. It’s a pity, because this may be a dying art. They don’t seem to be as popular as they used to be. I blame TV makeover shows that constantly recommend neutral shades and the complete absence of strong patterns. Despite my ignorance, even I know that only one side of the rug carries the pattern. The other side, the underside, is often a visual mess; just lots of strands and flecks here and there. Somehow that visual chaos is exactly what is required to produce the pattern that you see on the other side. I wonder if that’s how it appears to a master rug maker? Maybe they can see a pattern even in the underside mess.

Sometimes life appears to be a bit of mess, at least at the scale most of us necessarily perceive it. When I read about the lives of others, I wonder just how much of the big picture, the pattern, people living their lives are aware of. In the first chapter of his account of the life and times of Jesus of Nazareth, Luke weaves together the strands of two particular lives, recounting two particular pre-birth narratives. Why the two stories? There’s very definitely weaving going on as Luke cuts from one story to the other and back again. I think that he does this because he wants us to compare and contrast. The main strands of the two narratives concern an older man, and a young girl. One is famously part of the Christmas story (the young girl), the other is one of Christmas’ forgotten characters, Zechariah.

Zechariah is an interesting pick, particularly at this point in his life. He’s a priest, and a fairly faithful one at that. Luke focuses on a particular occasion, which is probably the high point of Zechariah’s priestly career. It has fallen to him to go in to the temple in Jerusalem and burn incense (symbolically to lead the people’s prayers). Once he has finished his task inside, he will emerge out onto the temple steps, lift his arms and bless all the people who are standing outside, waiting. The point is that he will probably only get to do this once in his career. At this point in Israel’s history, there are lots of priests and not that much to do. So this is his big moment. Exciting as this probably was for him, something extraordinary then happens. As he’s carrying out his duties in the enclosed space of the “Holy Place” in the temple, an angel appears. You might think that this is a fairly common occurrence, but in fact it’s not. As discussed previously, it had been centuries since God had spoken to Israel, and even longer since something like an angel appearing had happened. So this was far from what Zechariah was expecting, and in fact Luke tells us it freaked him out. Once he’s calmed down the angel (who we learn later was Gabriel) gives him good news and better news. A baby is going to be born (and this after Zechariah and his wife Elisabeth had probably given up hope of having children), and the baby is going to grow into someone with a special job to do. This is something Zechariah has been hoping for and praying about. But then it goes a bit pear-shaped.

If this were simple romantic fiction, Zechariah would run home, give Elisabeth the good news and everyone would live happily ever after. But precisely because angels suddenly appearing and saying exactly what you want hear is not an everyday occurrence, it’s all a bit hard to take in. And Zechariah basically tells Gabriel this – not a good idea. He basically asks “How can I believe this?”, indiating a fairly basic lack of a willingness to believe what he’s been told. Because of his lack of belief, poor old Z has to spend the next nine months or so not being able to hear or speak, condemned, as it were, to silence. On the one hand this seems a bit harsh. Yet on the other, it’s symbolic that he’s behaved as Israel has all along. Not believing what God consistently said to them had resulted in silence, as God had warned through the prophet Amos (see Amos 8:11: ‘a famine….of hearing the words of the Lord’). That famine was coming to end, and God was going to do something new. Zechariah, and for that matter his son John, were part of that old story. Something new was about to happen.

Of course, poor old Z’s big day is ruined. His encounter with Gabriel is inside the temple. When he emerges after a delay, with all the people looking to him to bless them, he can’t – he’s got no voice. This particular thread in the pattern then just seems to peter out.

Six months later, the same angel turns up in Nazareth, to speak to one of Elisabeth’s cousins, Mary. There’s obviously a number of contrasts to be drawn between Zechariah and Mary. He was male, she was female, at a time and in a culture where this really mattered. He was a mature, public figure who had carved out his place in society. Mary was a teenager, somewhere between childhood and marriage (she was betrothed – a legal status beyond engagement, but less than marriage), probably not particularly well known beyond her own family. Zechariah was given good news about something he had longed for, hoping against hope. Mary was given disturbing news, with big implications for her and her husband to be. But the real contrast is this. While Zechariah reacted in disbelief, Mary took on board what she was told, and made it clear she was ready to accept it, even although she didn’t understand fully what was going on. Not for the first time, expectations are turned on their head. It’s the educated, professional, religious (proud?) bloke who gets it wrong. It’s the straightforward, if inexperienced but humble girl, that gets it right.

Luke continues to weave the threads. There are two songs, and then two births to come. One birth will be a repeat of another promised child born to a couple who were really too old to have children. It will have its miraculous elements; it will be special, but not unique. The other birth will be a miracle from start to finish, biologically inexplicable, and eternally significant. The characters involved understood some things (like how to make babies), and not others (like how to make particular babies). Z learns to trust what his God tells him, and when he responds properly he will be enabled to sing about “..light to those who sit in darkness..”. Mary, well we know what happens to Mary. 

How much of the big picture, the big pattern, did they understand? Probably not much. But we have the benefit of a master weaver revealing what’s going on. Mind you, even then we struggle to see the pattern at times.

Christmas Reflections I – 1619 and all that…..

The year 1619 was a long time ago. Neither you nor I were around. It is well beyond living memory or even folk memory (if there is such a thing). It is a proper subject for historical research. Thanks to that research there are a number of things that have been recorded for us, and that we can be reasonably sure about. Perhaps most notably, in December 1619 the first Africans arrived as slaves in the Virginia colony, marking the start of North American slavery. The United States of America was not even a glint in anyone’s eye, but we all know what that arrival heralded, and how today it continues to have an influence on many lives. In central Europe, the reformation of the previous century was turning ever more political and the seeds of the “thirty years war” were being sown. Scotland and England had the same king by 1619 (James I/VI), the Tudors having given way to the Stuarts. James was happily propounding the theory of divine right to his son (the future Charles I), thus sowing the seeds of the English civil war. Meanwhile, most of the rest of the population in 1619 lived, worked and died in the countryside. London had a population of about 50 000, and the second city in England was Bristol with a population of about half that size. Obviously there were no smartphones (yes – life is still possible without them). There were also no railways and therefore no common time across the country; the main mode of transport involved feet. There was no industry (at least in the way we think of it today), and books were scarce. Formal education was rudimentary or non-existent for many. Probably fewer than 1 in 5 people could do what you are doing right now (ie reading), and fewer than that could write. It is a world so foreign to us that it might as well be another planet.

Imagine you were told that someone had written something in 1619 that had direct relevance to you in 2019, 400 years later. You could be forgiven for being a tad sceptical. Suppose it was a promise that something amazing would happen, although even in their own time, 400 years ago, the fulfilment of the same promise had already been anticipated for a while. After a further 400 years, you can understand why anticipation might turn to scepticism, then disbelief, and then disappear from general consciousness. How could we even be sure of the detail of something said or written 400 years ago?

I assume that by now you are asking what has 1619 got to do with Christmas?

Consider the opening of the Gospel of Luke which deals with a number of events preceding the first Christmas. Those events, which Luke claims are part of an orderly account of the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, mark the continuation of, or arguably the restarting of God speaking directly to humanity after a silence of about 400 years. The Old Testament closes with Malachi, one of the “minor prophets” (called that because of their length, not their importance). Malachi wasn’t the last of the OT books to be written, but his is the last of “thus says the Lord” books. At the end of the OT Israel returned from exile much diminished. Jerusalem was re-established, the temple rebuilt and there was a “revival” of sorts. But it all somehow seems very low key; not like the “old days”. Malachi promises that God isn’t finished with either Israel, or the rest of us. A messenger will come to make preparations, and then the “Lord …will suddenly come to his temple”. And then ….. nothing. Hundreds of years of nothing. No messenger, no Lord, nothing.

History of course didn’t stop with Malachi. It wound remorselessly on. Some of it was good; much of it was bad (at least in Israel’s neck of the woods). They were ruled by Persians, they were ruled by Egyptians (or at least the Greek version of Egyptians), they were ruled by Syrians. They rebelled, were oppressed, rebelled again. Then they were incorporated into the Roman empire. All the time, it was as though their God had stopped speaking to them. 400 years of silence. The events recorded in the Old Testament became ever more remote. Abraham, Moses, Joshua and David had formed their history. But they became almost mythical (no doubt there were those who claimed exactly that). The likes of Ezra, Nehemiah, and yes Malachi, gradually shifted from memory, to history to ….legend? Myth? Certainly little more than words in a book. Gradually the book gathered dust. It was translated, reinterpreted, argued over. Did the words in the book matter? Perhaps it all seemed a bit esoteric. The sort of stuff to be left to the academics and scholars, historians and religious professionals. But then, just while everyone was quietly forgetting all that God had said and done through thousands of years of their history, things began to stir again. But quite obscurely at first.

To the average Jewish person around the time of Jesus birth, the promises of Malachi probably seemed as remote and irrelevant as things said in 1619 seem to us. That is, very remote and very irrelevant. So irrelevant in fact, that even quite educated people didn’t know about them. But it turns out that what is recorded in the OT is not myth and legend, and that a promise is a promise. God doesn’t make promises lightly, and once made they are kept. So, after 400 years, Luke records that messengers arrive, announcements are made, prompts and signs are provided. It is true that much of this would be missed by many then and now. But events would begin to unfold that would be hard to miss. Thanks to the likes of Luke (other Gospel accounts are available), who would compile an orderly record, neither those events or their meaning need be lost on us, 2000 years further on. They remain worth reflecting on.

What’s all this about more debate?

Here’s where my “remain” friends (and most of my friends voted remain) and me probably part company. I suspect most of them have been spluttering over their cornflakes and muttering darkly at TV news bulletins of late, because of the latest shenanigans at Westminster. And I understand why. They voted remain in the EU referendum (as did I) because they thought it was right and sensible. Probably, like me, they did not vote remain because the EU filled them with unalloyed joy (discussed further here). It’s a human institution with all the faults and flaws of any human institution (and a few extra ones to boot). But it made political sense to stay in, on the basis that many of the problems we face don’t respect borders and are better tackled as part of a larger political block. It made economic sense because the states of the EU form our largest and nearest market. Indeed the single market is as much a British construction as it is a European one. I could go on. But I won’t (at least not about all the reasons for voting remain). Leaving, they genuinely believed then and now, was and is madness. Leaving with “no deal” they regard as tantamount to national self-harm on an epic scale. I’m not sure I would put it that strongly. Time will, unfortunately, probably tell.

Their anger over Boris’ latest wheeze is genuine too. I have no reason to believe anything else. They see him as using illegitimate (if not strictly illegal) tactics to thwart the attempts of his Brexit opponents to scupper a “no deal” Brexit. Some, I have no doubt, think that the proroguing of Parliament is antidemocratic because it will deny the people’s representatives the opportunity to scrutinise the intentions and actions of the Executive. And with some justification they will point out that during the recent Conservative election campaign, Boris and a number of his current cabinet colleagues, sought to pacify moderate elements in the Conservative selectorate and garner votes by implying that they would not do what they have essentially just done. These various views are shared by a very large number of people. Last time I looked, well over 1.6M had signed a petition against proroguing Parliament. Polls suggest that there is currently a majority of that view by some margin. And there have been protests in many UK towns and cities.

As far as the proroguing issue goes, here’s my problem with those who have a problem. Their basic case seems to be that this is a manoeuvre to deny Parliament the opportunity to debate the issues around leaving the EU, particularly those raised by leaving without an agreement – the no deal scenario. But exactly what is there to debate that hasn’t been fully aired over the last three years? Who is there left in Parliament (or the country for that matter) that lacks the information required to form a view? The result of the referendum itself and how it should be responded to has been discussed to death. Early on the idea was floated that Parliament should simply refuse to act on what technically was an advisory vote. This was rejected. The overwhelming majority were clear that the result had to be honoured. Most MPs in 2016, and in the post 2017 House of Commons voted remain, and a minority of them have never reconciled themselves to the idea of leaving the EU. This I understand. But then, why did they vote 6-to-1 to put what was a complex and nuanced decision to the people in a binary referendum in the first place? Yes, David Cameron pushed the issue of a referendum for relatively selfish political and party management reasons. But he was aided and abetted by the political class as a whole, Labour, Liberal Democrats and the Greens and others. They all abrogated their responsibilities are all guilty for the resulting chaos.The historians can argue about how the guilt should be precisely divided up when the dust has settled.

Post referendum, and post Cameron, we had a general election. There were pro-EU membership/anti-Brexit options on the ballot paper in the form of the Liberal Democrats, Greens and occasional others. But these were decisively rejected. We saw the return (although perhaps temporarily) of two-party politics.  Of those two main parties, both made clear they would seek a negotiated withdrawal from the EU, so honouring the referendum result. Labour went further. They were specific in their rejection of no-deal, and said they would reject it as an option if they formed the government. The election was a close run thing, but Labour didn’t form the government because the Conservatives got more votes (although a relatively small win in terms of votes cast was then magnified by parliamentary arithmetic). But the options were there.

It is the no deal issue that has galvanised many of my remain friends, petition signers, press and politicians on all sides. It is presumably no deal, so the argument goes, that won’t be scrutinised and debated if Boris gets away with prorogation. But hang on, specifically this issue has been the subject of debate for months. It has been voted on in the Commons. Parliamentary skulduggery has even been resorted to by the opponents of no deal, with active support from the Speaker of the Commons. It’s not just Boris and his acolytes who can dive through gaps in our unwritten constitution. The debate has produced more heat than light and precious little agreement. Some insist that no deal will be an unmitigated disaster, others see it as the ideal clean break with the EU. Most are probably somewhere between these extremes. But the notion that it has not been debated, or that further debate is going to make any difference is not sustainable.

I have no idea precisely what the effect of a no deal Brexit will be. I am sure that there will be disruption. There will be costs. I don’t really see where there will be benefits. Will it be a disaster on the scale of war or famine or plague? Probably (hopefully) not. But this was always one of the possible ways of exiting the EU. It was also always one of the potential outcomes of the Article 50 process that Parliament voted, overwhelmingly, to trigger. In the referendum campaign, we were warned about the potential hit to the economy and jobs if we decided to leave. I found the warnings plausible, many did not. Some may or may not have been persuaded by the fantasy promises of the various out campaigns. But with all of that ringing in our ears a majority of my fellow citizens voted to leave the EU. We’ve now had three further years of debate. There’s no evidence of mass buyer’s remorse or that another referendum would produce a very different result, although conceivably it might produce a different outcome. But that would hardly help settle things. If it was remain 52% vs leave 48% (not entirely implausible if the polls are to be believed), why should that result be allowed to stand when the first one was reversed? Parliament ducked its obligations and handed the decision to the people. The people took the decision. The debate has been had. The democratic thing to do is implement the decision. It will be messy. But if democracy means anything is it surely that we get what we (or at least the majority) vote for.

But one final note. Recently I’ve been thinking about the life and times of a character in the Bible called Jonah. He lived in turbulent times. His own nation had been on the up, and under the current regime things seemed to be going well. It looked like the King (Jeroboam II) was doing well, militarily, politically and economically. I bet the King Jeroboam thought so. But it turned out there was a whole other level of reality that the King, and many people of the day in Israel, were missing. Their success was far more to do with providential timing and God moving the pieces on the international chess board, than Jeroboam's genius. He was working His larger purposes out. We know this because it’s helpfully recorded in 2 Kings 14:23-27, and explained further in the books of Jonah, Amos and Hosea. We live in turbulent times, nationally and internationally. This is not all and only about us, votes, debates, protest, politics and tactics. Providence may be merciful to us, and may come through these present difficulties unscathed. It might not. But the likes of Jonah, Amos and Hosea have a lot to say to us today. About the humility required of leaders if nothing else. Their own people, in their own time, did not listen to them. Perhaps we are in danger of making the same mistake.