Crannóggy Island

  The Scribe's Question A scribe asks Jesus which commandment is first of all. The question is not hostile; Mark tells us the man had listened well and asked in good faith. Jesus answers with two Old Testament texts woven into one (Deut. 6:4-5 and Lev. 19:18): "The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbour as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:29-31) Jesus does not present two competing or independent commandments. The second arises from the first and cannot be understood apart from it. Matthew's version draws out the relation even more clearly. The second commandment, Jesus says, is like the first, and all the Law and the Prophets hang on the two together. That is not the language of two adjacent rul...

  Introduction There is an old parlour trick, beloved of diplomats and theologians alike. Ask whether the soup is too salty and receive, at generous length, a meditation on hospitality. The taste of the soup remains untouched. Cardinal Timothy Radcliffe has elevated this into an art form. Ask him whether an act is licit, and he will tell you about friendship. He does not change the subject; he changes its register (from proposition to atmosphere) and trusts, correctly, that most of us will find the atmosphere so pleasant we forget we came in with a question. Two documents make the case better than I could argue it cold: a homily preached in June at a Mass for two men marking fifty years together, and an essay on the Synod written for L'Osservatore Romano, in which the same manoeuvre is performed at greater length and, rather touchingly, with footnotes. The Mass itself is worth a sentence or two, since two accounts posted on it could not agree on what kind of sentence to giv...

  Thank you. Walking up this street two years ago was the proudest moment of my life. A new Labour government. The first in fourteen years. The chance to change this country for the better. That's what I came into politics for. Six years ago I inherited a party that was politically, financially, and morally bankrupt. I was told a majority was impossible. We proved them wrong. Unfortunately, having dragged the party back from the political graveyard, I discovered some colleagues had mistaken the victory party for the starting gun of the next leadership contest. Look at what we delivered. A stronger economy. Falling waiting lists. Rising wages. Every difficult decision was opposed by people who now explain, with remarkable confidence, that it was their idea all along. But I know the question being asked isn't who won the landslide. It's whether I'm the right person to lead us into the next one. Apparently the answer is no. I have heard the answer of my parliamentary party...

The Wilderness Consultation In the second year after the exodus from Egypt, the Tent of Meeting stood at the centre of the camp of Israel. God spoke to Moses from within the tent. Moses carried what he received to the people. The arrangement was straightforward, if demanding. The Committee for Ongoing Discernment on Covenant Standards had established itself nearby. It had not been asked for. It had, nonetheless, arrived. Moses had been going in and out of the tent all morning. "He's been in there a long time," said the younger committee member, who was responsible for stakeholder engagement. "God is speaking to him," said the secretary. "Yes, but the Amorite delegation have been waiting since the third hour, and they've come a considerable distance." Moses emerged from the tent. He was carrying a scroll and wearing the expression of a man who had not slept well since Egypt. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," he said....

  Three theologians, a Protestant, a Catholic, and an Orthodox monk, met in a dream at the edge of a vast and empty plain. At the centre of the plain stood a single stone. It was ancient, weathered smooth by centuries of wind, and half-sunk into the earth. All three recognised at once that it was a foundation stone. None doubted that something had once been built there, nor that whatever might yet be built would have to begin from it. The Protestant approached first. He brushed the dust from the stone and struck it lightly with his hand, testing whether it would bear weight. "It is firm," he said. "That is enough. A house stands because it trusts the foundation beneath it. If the foundation holds, the builder need not fear." He rested part of his weight upon the stone, almost instinctively. "A perfect design built on mistrust collapses no less surely than a crooked wall." He spoke as though the greatest danger were not weakness in the foundation but despai...