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The crux of the matter

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William Crawley | 10:15 UK time, Friday, 2 April 2010

BOSCH_christ-7157.jpgLook at the eyes of Jesus in this portrayal by Hieronymus Bosch. His tormentors mock him with loose smiles and focused contempt, but Jesus looks at us, to us, as if to invite us in -- as if to question our status as viewers, as innocent bystanders.

One of the tormentors wears a dog collar, but we know that those who abuse the vulnerable are not always so obviously savage. The killers of little Jamie Bulger were themselves children, and their stories are interwoven with our society's story. It may be morally convenient to see the tormentors of Jesus as grotesque figures, but the truth is always messier. The American soldiers who abused prisoners in Guantánamo Bay had stories too, and loved ones, and families who were shocked by their inexplicable behaviour.

Stanley Milgram's famous experiment suggests that many "normal", "ordinary" people -- people like you an me -- may be prepared to do similar things in similar circumstances given the right context. And the right context could simply be a perceived sense of permission, the nod from an authority figure. We prize our right to act in accordance with our personal conscience, but just how malleable that conscience may prove to be in morally fraught circumstances is a discomfiting question.

Then look at the figure in red on the left, his head-dress bearing the religious symbols of Islam and Judaism -- the crescent moon and the star of David. There were no Muslims when Jesus was mocked on the way to the cross, and the figure at the centre of the mockery was himself a Jew. Bosch's Jesus looks like a dislocated alien, when in truth, he was amongst his own. When we tell and re-tell the story of the crucifixion, we always layer the portrayal with our own perceptions, our own prejudices, our own place in space and time. To some extent, that is unavoidable. But if those portrayals indict others and leave ourselves as innocent bystanders, they become another kind of mockery.

The biblical account of what happened to Jesus, on a cross in April of AD 33, narrates both a particular crime and a universal dilemma. He was murdered because he got in the way of the powerful players of his day. He died because he refused to be less than he was. He was not prepared to compromise on his sense of identity or on the implications of his convictions. The religious and political elite did him in because he said the wrong things, he raised the wrong kinds of hopes, and the following he was gaining was a threat to the balance of power.

Ask enough questions about the structures of power in many societies today and you might find fellow-cause with Jesus. That is the dilemma we all face, and it is a moral dilemma: when to speak out for the rights of another, when to stand up in defence of the downtrodden, when to refuse to co-operate with a system that hurts people we hardly know, when to question the official justifications, when to look the powerful in the eye. Because Czesław Miłosz had it right: "There is no such thing as an innocent bystander. If you are a bystander, you are not innocent."

Picture: Christ Mocked (The Crowning with Thorns) c. 1490-1500, Hieronymus Bosch, The National Gallery, London.


  • Comment number 1.

    Yes William, in truth, didnt each one of us hammer those nails into Christ?

    I am slightly perturbed though that when you talk of each of us layering our own prejudices onto this story.... why do you not make any mention of the reason that Christ said he went to the cross, of his own volition?

    Why did he say in Gethsemane that there appeared to be no other way, when praying for another option?

    Why did he tell Peter he was acting on behalf of Satan to try and stop him giving up his life?

    Why did he say the entire old testament had said he had to die and rise again?

    What does it say about our prejudices towards him that it is a normal narrative now in the west to ignore all these facts and select only the politics of the day to explain the reason for his death?


  • Comment number 2.

    And yet in a few hundred years the "structures of power" were held by his followers, and the muslims living in the "holy land" had come to dread the sign of the cross for the oppression that followed it.

  • Comment number 3.

    Jesus claimed to be the king of the Jews. In a very clearly planned and pointed event, he rode into Jerusalem in the prescribed manner of Zechariah on one donkey (not two, Peter!), and went to the temple and started a riot.
    Pilate executed him and placed the sign above his head as a warning to any other pretenders as to what happened to "Kings of the Jews". He did not go of his own volition to the cross - he botched his attempt at revolt.

    That is the *historical* situation.

    But as a Christian Atheist, there is now a wider significance of the "Christ" term. As a myth, a narrative, a story, we can identify with the redemptive themes and the emotional rollercoaster. It doesn't matter (really) that the gospellers embellished the truth and removed the embarrassing bits - that Jesus was just as human and just as fallible, just as proud, just as stupid as the rest of us. There is a little theme there that we can work with and weave into our own stories.

    The smart thing, however, is to realise that it is a *story*.

    Bosch rocks, though.

  • Comment number 4.


    I’m thinking:

    Should I respond one sentence at a time, as in “Jesus claimed to be the king of the Jews.” - Yep, “In a very clearly planned and pointed event” - yep..?

    Should I get side-tracked by a donkey?

    Should I post the youtube link to the Shrek (complete with flying donkey) ‘I’m a Believer’ song? I think I did that before though.

    “And went to the temple and started a riot” - yep

    But I know you’re fond of the Judean Volunteer Force storyline so - isn’t it odd that the ‘volunteers’, Mattie, Petie, Jamesie (son of Zebedee!) and the restie, thought exactly what you’re thinking, that after Palm Sunday their leader would give the Romans a clip round the ear, say, “On your donkeys, and hoof off back to Rome”, and that then they’d be able to put up a big sign, “You are now entering Free Jerusalem”, but got the shock of their lives when the tables were turned (sorry) and their friend started on the folks up at the big church on the hill.

    I mean, even after the crucifixion they still didn’t get it. You’re the King (they said to their imaginary friend) where’s the Kingdom? When do we get to crown David, mark II? Why are the Romans still here? Have you goofed up?

    And then they went on the record about their confusion and misunderstanding of who their friend was and what he was about and how he kept surprising them and how they constantly had to keep reassessing their attitude to him, and then they told a big (Pinocchio type) story about a dead man to make themselves look better (!) cos that’s what you do after a failed coup with the occupying forces (and their ecclesiastical cronies) breathing down your neck, not to mention having to find a home for the extra donkey...

    And what have power tools got to do with anything?

  • Comment number 5.

    Peter, *precisely*. Except, of course, the gospels were written many years later by people who were not there at the time.

    People are strange wee things, and believe all sorts of silly nonsense. Jesus would have been horrified. I wonder how things would have turned out if his volunteers had actually turned up as planned at Gethsemane that night.

  • Comment number 6.

    You know, maybe they had a slogan, ‘Home Rule, not Rome Rule,” and big plans for a coronation, but in their ranks was double agent, Nicodemus perhaps, (I mean what was all that under cover of darkness stuff, and pretending he didn’t know the history of the Hebrews?) How could they have been taken in? Perhaps this was one teacher of the Law who knew more than he was letting on. How else did they get to Judas? Come to think of it, maybe that was the reason for the mix up with the donkey, a sort of double booking with the local donkey hire company, “What! You’ve booked a donkey too. For flip’s sake where are we gonna get the money the pay for two of them? How many times do I have to tell you, would you just leave it to me to get things organised, (I don’t know, some people).” “Judas! Any spare cash?”

    Of course the whole flaw in the plot was that they thought he was just another Bar-abbas...

    Tell you what cheered my evening up though, Natalie Merchant available for download on a well known but not to be mentioned music website.

    ... What was that? The son of who?

  • Comment number 7.

    O T, you said, post 1

    'Yes William, in truth, didnt each one of us hammer those nails into Christ?'

    Did you have to bring up that awful time travelling sin thing.
    I refrained on the 'what does easter mean to you' thread to tell of the dark side of my personal experience of easter. Not so much Easter day, but holy week and especially the friday and saturday calls to mind being taken around the stations of the cross and told - look at that - that's YOUR sins did that, and continue to do that!!
    I should that it was parents, not priests perpetrating this child abuse; I had nothing but kindness from the mainly italian-american priests. Now the nuns were a different matter!

  • Comment number 8.

    I find most close-up pictures of the suffering Jesus really quite neaseating. I prefer something like Bruegel’s Christ on the Calvary to Calvary, where we strain to see the small figure collapsing under the weight of the cross amidst the jostling crowd. In this picture Jesus is not depicted as special but as someone who shares our common humanity. Bruegel does the same thing in The Census at Bethlehem, where Mary and Joseph are barely discernible among the crowd. Both paintings are great huymanist works of demythologisation.

  • Comment number 9.


    Thank you for your comments; in a similar way to Helio’s ‘band of revolutionaries’ thesis (in spite of our banter) I find them thought provoking.

    It is true that something (perhaps much) of the humanity of Jesus has been lost by the church - we are responsible for disconnecting Jesus from humanity, for becoming so pious that we have rendered the story almost meaningless.

    This loss of an understanding of his humanity has, I think, led Christians to be disconnected from their fellow human beings. Perhaps it is why at times like Easter and Christmas we Christians wrap ourselves in the piety of religious devotion while forgetting to consider where the chocolate for our eggs comes from. As I said on another thread, “Often humanity is what is forgotten in the adherence to religion”, and when this happens we become the bystanders William speaks of.

    And while you will know that I want to go further in my understanding of Jesus, perhaps this Easter I should join with you in saying, “Yes, Jesus was, completely and fully, human.”

  • Comment number 10.

    Peter, and if that's the case, we are all equally "divine". But, as Syndrome says in "The Incredibles", when everyone is Super, then no-one is. The heresy that Jesus was the "Son of God", closely linked to the Trinitarian heresy, was something of a tragedy. Forget the Romans lifting Jesus up on a cross, separating him from the Earth - Christians have lifted him further, cutting off his history, and rendering him as much a real person as Goldilocks. That is one of the saddest things about this tragic figure - not only did he fail in his perceived mission, he was turned into a fairy tale.

  • Comment number 11.

    Bosch was a devout Christian, a committed Roman Catholic. In this context the painting is particularly powerful because this is not a picture where Christ is among aliens, it is very much a picture where He is among His own: His mockers are the faithful, these are preeminently religious people.

    There are strong compositional diagonals in this picture suggesting oppositions which, however, crowded proximity crushes together. William has noted the figure in one corner who represents the Jewish and Muslim strands of the Abrahamic tradition, but he is opposed and balanced by the figure in the dog-collar who clasps Christ possessively around the shoulder and looks into his face with what looks almost like tender sollicitation, only his garb betrays his face. This figure's hat is adorned with a bunch of oak-leaves. Bosch's contemporaries would have immediately got the allusion to the della Rovere family of Pope Sixtus and understood him to represent the papacy and and the institutional church. He holds Christ tight to himself, like a possession, but it is as if Christ doesn't even see him, he looks beyond him directly into the eyes of the observer. Part of the genius of the spatial awareness of the painting is that it compresses opposites into one: the church is at one with the infidels in its paining of the Lord.

    The man with the arrow is the only one whose bullying and abuse is open and unambiguous. I wonder can we see in his green turban a reference to the green ecclesiastical hat of a bishop and in his gauntleted hand raising the crown of thorns a referenced to a gloved episcopal hand elevating the host? If we accept this, Bosch clearly sees the church as one, and the overt brutality of the hierarchy is balanced and united with the self-seeking of the average man in the pew represented by the person on the bottom right. This man's grasping hands are about to tear the robe from the Saviour's body but his position and outstretched arms are those of a penitent or supplicant.

    For me, this picture says there are no greater mockers of Christ than religious people when their faith is selfish, grasping, bullying, or pretend.

  • Comment number 12.


    There is indeed a tragedy in Christianity similar to the one you suggest. In some ways I agree that you’re on to something.

    Take resurrection for example, presented often as a way of explaining ‘life after death’, a way of explaining that we ‘go to heaven when we die’ (and presumably float around on a cloud while wearing some kind of Carrickmacross fashion item). But if resurrection means anything, it means, new beginning, which brings us back to the idea of revolution... one which the volunteers continued after the death of their leader. Indeed, not content to simply kick the Romans out of Israel they decided to confront them on their home turf - “The Kingdom is not yours, Caesar. It does not belong to the rich and powerful, the meek shall inherit the earth. Our King, is, yes, the one who... failed. He is the one who became nothing, the one who is a servant. But understand this, Caesar, this Kingdom has come none the less.”

    This is at least part of the shift we have to explain. No one was actually looking for a ‘messiah’ who was divine, they fully expected the king to live in Jerusalem, to build a palace, kick out the oppressor. They expected it to be localised, nationalistic and Jewish. But within a generation the Christians began to speak of Jesus in terms of the fulfilment of all these hopes and they kept saying it even though it was politically, ecclesiastically and socially explosive. The trouble for all of us is that it was a revolution of an entirely different kind.

    Whether we like it or not, something *did* happen, and when Christians think about it they speak of justice, beauty, community, of the resurrection of the *body*, a new creation and a new *earth*. And they speak of a ‘sleeves rolled up, stuck in’ *human* kind of following and there isn’t a frog prince or a fairy’s tail to be seen.

    Maybe if it *was* myth, it would be easier to deal with. As Goldilocks said, that kind of Christianity is, “Not too hot, not too cold, just right.”

    And perhaps Dash was paraphrasing the ‘Impostle Pawld’ when he said, “We're dead! We're dead! We survived but we're dead!” A thought which presents us with a solution to Will’s moral dilemma.

    And it’s only reasonable to ref. N.T. Wright, Simply Christian, as motivator of some of these thoughts.

    Parrhasios #11 - Very helpful, thanks.

  • Comment number 13.

    As a Catholic the Church's calendar is important and significant for me. The year has rhythms, life has rhythms, there may be pain but there can also be comfort in returning again and again to a changed familiarity, bringing to it each new time the experiences enjoyed or endured since the last encounter.

    I hope those with whom I am engaged in arguments on other threads will forgive me if I postpone my replies until Monday; for me, this is a day of reflection and meditation. 

    I shared earlier my first thoughts on the Bosch painting, others have occurred since, particularly that our possessive or proprietory feelings about Christ can so easily move Him right out of the centre of focus. I spent a lot of time this evening thinking about that and what it might mean for me. 

    William has asked us, however, to notice other artworks which resonate with the meaning of Passiontide. I find no painting more inspiring than Stanley Spencer's Christ carrying the Cross. The picture is suffused with light, that, in the context, I think is the first thing that strikes me. I could share my thoughts but I wonder what anyone else who looks at it and sees something in it might think. I can see how it might relate to PeterM and Helio's conversation.

  • Comment number 14.

    I was brought up in a denomination which used the empty cross as the primary symbol of Christianity, and the explanation for this centred on the resurrection, without which the theology of the cross is meaningless. Crucifixes, on the other hand, are somewhat disturbing objects which I find rather euphemistic - they create an aura of sanctity around an experience of suffering which was barbaric in the extreme. How many churches would be prepared to erect symbols of someone being fried in an electric chair, for example? Would such a form of execution be any more barbaric than the cross?

    I find Bosch's depiction of the suffering of Christ perplexing. The expression on the face of Jesus conveys neither a sense of moral conviction towards me as the onlooker nor any remote indication of personal suffering. The overwhelming impression is that of almost a smug and sanctimonious masochism - uttely devoid of resonance with my humanity - and challenged by the words of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane: "Take this cup away from me...", words which reveal the depth of his suffering and personal torment.

    Concerning the humanity of Christ, as a "Christian theist" I take the "both-and" rather than the "either-or" position. There is no need to create a false dichotomy between the humanity and divinity of Christ (in the same way that there is no justification for the false dichotomy between science and spirituality). The cross can be understood on many levels and I don't believe that there is only one "right answer". Those who trumpet the penal substitutionary theory of the atonement are promoting one particular interpretation, which, in my view, has a certain validity. However, it is not the whole story.

    I note in this thread that the spiritual aspects of the cross are dismissed with the argument that the gospel accounts were written some time after the events they recount. The trouble with that argument is that it could also be applied to the non-spiritual events, not only of the life of Jesus, but also many other events within history. Why single out the gospel writers? Well, of course, we know why. It is in order to fit the events into a preconceived philosophical framework which excludes the supernatural.

    Is it not strange that those who draw this conclusion have no qualms when it comes to speculating about the events which supposedly occurred before recorded human history - events that, we are told, took place millions of years ago? Apparently it is perfectly acceptable to speculate to our heart's content about something no one witnessed - or could have witnessed - and yet documents written "a little too long" after historical events which possess characteristics not to our philosophical liking, must be influenced by human error and/or fraud and duplicity!!

    Philosophical honesty and logical consistently, chaps, please. It's not that hard. Really, it isn't. :-)

  • Comment number 15.

    I would like to wish Will, his team, and my fellow comment-makers all the newness and wholeness of life that the resurrection of Christ betokens.

    I know this Easter morning that my redeemer lives. Hallelujah!

  • Comment number 16.

    Let us now remember the true meaning of Easter:
    Born from an egg on a mountain top
    The punkiest monkey that ever popped
    He knew every magic trick under the sun
    To tease the Gods
    And everyone and have some fun

    Monkey magic, Monkey magic

  • Comment number 17.

    Wise man say, "Even Monkey magic is no match for Donkey Kong." ;-)

  • Comment number 18.

    LSV - one of the wonderful things about art is that it has no fixed meaning, there is only what you see and how it affects you. I was very interested in your reading of the face of Christ in Bosch's painting, obviously totally valid, but so different from my own.

    I myself see a dreadful emptiness in that face, an absence of all feeling and emotion. For me Christ's greatest agony was in the garden not on the cross, by the time depicted in the painting that agony is over, and we see in His face, drained of all expression, the soon to be absolute kenosis which was the process of His life. Really all that is left is His gaze. I don't see in that compelling stare an accusation, Christ has gone far beyond that, rather it is a plea and perhaps a challenge.

    I am so glad you are grappling with the picture, great art is such a potent inspiration in meditation.

  • Comment number 19.

    Hi Parr

    I have a comment about a painting I have never seen. I was reading a book about a man recalling his memories of school (catholic.) He said that he hated the pictures on the classroom wall - saints with perfect pious faces and halos.

    He said tho only picture he liked was the one in the corridor. It was of a bearded man with sharp features and fire in his eyes. He had a whip and he was scattering tables with the coins flying everywhere. He said, "In the background stood a group of men (the Pharisees) with a look of 'shocked embarrassment' on their faces." I'd love to actually see that painting.

    The writer goes on to reflect how Jesus has finally realised that there is no reasoning with self-righteous people (the telling of the story of the prodigal to the Pharisees) and that sometimes you just have to shock and embarrass them to expose their hypocrisy.

    I was in one of the oldest Cathedrals in Europe con-celebrating Mass on Holy Thursday night. The Cardinal washed the feet of twelve men pouring water from a gold jug, a massive gold bowl collected the water. Each of the men had their feet dried with twelve well ironed towels. In the background, a world famous choir sang something (it was brilliant, by the way.)

    Half way through the eucharistic prayer, a woman stood out in the aisle and then very noisily walked forward. She got out her mobile phone and started talking to someone. An official tried to remove her but she was having none of it. She tried to open the gates and run onto the sanctuary. I looked round at the priests and Bishops and for some strange reason, I now know exactly what those men looked like on that painting on the school corridor wall.

  • Comment number 20.


    I am tempted to say that this Easter I have been meditating on... but that’s just pious nonsense.

    How in ever did we get from Jesus to where we are today?

  • Comment number 21.


    "How in ever did we get from Jesus to where we are today?"

    If you find out, shut up about it, or you'll end up with the same fate as Jesus.

    I've actually had a brilliant Holy Week. Insightful, meaningful, spiritual, etc.. I preached about the "and Peter" on Saturday night. A lot of people seemed to connect with it.

  • Comment number 22.


    Since post #20 I have read some of the other comments on this thread, including your #18 which concludes, "I am so glad you are grappling with the picture, great art is such a potent inspiration in meditation."

    In light of this I should perhaps explain my dismissal of 'meditation'. I do not mean that thoughtful reflection of the kind which may be called meditation is worthless or unimportant, I simply mean that I am tired of hearing religious platitudes which go nowhere. I'm just tired of them. I have heard too many. I am tired for example of being told of how we have experienced the 'presence of God', of the great blessing received in the service and so on without accompanying practical change in me.

    I did not intend to cause any offence.


  • Comment number 23.

    And RJB,

    I'm glad you had a good week.

  • Comment number 24.


    Kitchen... glass... freezer.... ice..... cupboard/drinks cabinet (depending on how posh you are)... whisky/brandy (depending etc..)
    and chill............

  • Comment number 25.

    Peter - I know you long enough to know that no offence was meant and none was taken!

    I think we have both remarked on occasion how we seem to share many opinions  on the consequences or practical outworkings of devotion yet I cannot get any real handle on how your faith works and I imagine mine may be equally opaque to you. It took an Anglican to give me any insight (!) but something LSV said recently opened up a line of thought. When I've considered it, if it holds up, I'll ask your opinion.

    Your understanding of the gospel is somehow very attractive yet incomprehensibly foreign to me - I hope you take that as the compliment it is meant to be.

    RJB - I too am glad you had a fulfilling Holy Week - so did I even though I failed to take Easter Sunday communion for the first time since my confirmation. Your story rather perfectly illustrates Shakespeare's observation that art holds a mirror up to nature showing scorn it's true face! I think real Christianity will always embarass the merely religious.

  • Comment number 26.

    RJB - ice!!! And you a Scot...

  • Comment number 27.

    Loved the banter!!

    Even stranger - I actually believe all your different views at the same time!!

    Isn't it too weird that we human christians throughout history mirror our consciousness and morality into our own image of christ and visa-versa !! What a great way to improve our race!!

    And if we dont try to work out who Christ the jig-saw puzzle way then the answer is in the rocks & stones..

    "if you let all the voices in this land fall silent the rocks & stones would still call out your name..." (weird but true - this really works but its not measurable in words or art - its more the essence of christ and our connection with him.)

    dont know about all the pigsy monkey thing - did like the song though -
    i'm sure tripitaka would tell you the treasure in pandoras box is always the same - its just has many names in different languages!!

  • Comment number 28.


    Quickly for now.

    You say, "I cannot get any real handle on how your faith works.." Emmm. My fault entirely. Perhaps I have spent too long outlining what I am not, outlining the things which irk me.

    Perhaps there is a conversation in this.

  • Comment number 29.

    Wedwabbit - relcome to the blog. Look forward to your contribution.

    Peter - I suspect the difficulty may not be anyone's fault more very different conceptual foundations. There is certainly a conversation to be had.

  • Comment number 30.


    On the rocks, rocks!


    Hang on in there.

    Years ago, I was invited along to a Christmas Carol Service in a local Kirk. After the Service, we were invited to the hall for a cup of tea and mince pies.

    I approached the woman who was serving the tea and asked for a cuppa. She stopped pouring, looked at me and said in a very condescending voice, "I'm not sure if I should serve you, young man!"

    When I asked why not, she continued, "You didnt have your eyes closed during the prayers!!"

    I turned to walk away then suddenly turned back and asked, "How did you know?" She spilled the tea over the mince pies.

    I've confronted such shallowness and religious snobbery ever since. Its there in every church seeking to infect parish councils, hijacking worship/liturgy and reducing parish communities to the lowest common denomenator, to the banal.

    But there is another side.

    I read one of the threads during Holy Week where contributors seemed to be almost jeering at the Catholic Church's celebrations of Holy Week and sure, there is a lot to criticise. But there is also great depth there if one cares to look deeper than the ritual.

    Confession, so ridiculed by many, was one of the most moving experiences of my Holy Week. Sitting in a church (not in a box!!) as human beings sat beside me and spoke so honestly about their brokenness, their damaged relationships, the things which they feel they did wrong, some people crushed by shame, others crushed by what has been done to them. There were tears.

    To engage with each person, to really lean in and listen and then to respond with what I think Christ would say to that person, in that moment, was incredible. I found myself saying things and I dont know where the words came from.

    I discovered that the woman pouring the tea all those years ago is a human being too, a very limited human being.

    I cannot believe that your searching will go unrewarded. I dont think that you will ever find a community which will come anywhere near the standards you have set yourself.

    But maybe a community that needs someone like you, will find you....

  • Comment number 31.


    Your comments on confession make perfect sense to me and your comments about setting standards are thought provoking.

    May I respond like this. Quite some time ago the idea that the gospel is about grace and that we are all in need of it got a grip of me. However it also appears that for many of us our default mode is religious (or whatever its secular equivalent) performance. I will measure me and whomever else I choose on the basis of adherence to a code. Society is full of such codes, and there are many ‘keepers of the code’ who seem to have the power determine who will be included or excluded from each relevant group. What I have discovered however is this, with a bit of ‘spit’, ‘polish’ and ‘nouse’, ‘keeping’ the code is possible, reaching the standards set by the group is possible, all one has to do is learn which of the outward signs are preeminent and then stick with them (although passing the odd criticism of the code breakers helps too!)

    Jesus, however, knowing our code is pretty much worthless, appears to say, ‘Welcome.’ And I guess all I’m saying is that if we could learn this then perhaps when it comes to standards, those which God counts as important might become more obvious to us.

    Trouble is, the more time I spend figuring out how to fit into the group, the more I forget Jesus.

  • Comment number 32.

    Thanks 4 the welcome Parrhasios!

  • Comment number 33.

    I meant to write in earlier. Woke up Easter sunday and turned to my favourite Sun.prog only to find ANOTHER was presenting it. COME BACK WILLIAM.


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