Waiting patiently outside the newsagent this morning, a man already inside points to a newspaper headline which says: ‘Trump Dumped’. He loudly appeals to no one in particular: ‘Please tell me he is dead!’
Later I open the paper of my choice and discover a review of the latest Rebus novel by Ian Rankin. It’s called A Song For Dark Times. The reviewer is fulsome in his praise for the remarkable way that Rankin can sustain the quality of his prose after 30 plus novels and is particularly taken by the timely title. This is a novel that captures the spirit of the age where everyone is ‘bitter and pointing the finger at the person they think is to blame for their misfortune.’ That is a direct quote from the book.
My mind drifted to the man in the newsagent. I really didn’t need to hear that first thing in the morning but then I wonder if that same bitterness of spirit and knee-jerk condemnation has not sometimes inhabited my inner being. ‘We all want somebody to blame.‘ ‘Everybody has to have somebody to look down on.’ ‘Before you abuse, criticise and accuse/Walk a mile in my shoes’. Words I have picked up from songs through the years. We all know the problem but are not very successful at working it out of our system.
Which brings me to Margaret Ferrier. I am cautious about wandering into a political maelstrom, especially these days when there is a bitterness in political life that I can never recall in my experience. A journalist friend has characterised it as ‘shrieking and finger pointing.’ And people definitely go off you if you don’t chime with their political views. That’s why my tongue has endured a pounding in the past. I’ve had to bite so hard in order to maintain reasonable relationships with certain people.
Also I have never believed that a parish minister’s views on political matters are necessarily worth a hill of beans, to paraphrase Humphrey Bogart. Unless that is moral or spiritual values are at stake. And there is something to be said about this present hot topic which is still burning away in the media.
The first thing to be said is that it is indeed beyond comprehension that a MP should behave in the way of Margaret Ferrier. In the wake of the revelations we have heard of the sacrifices people have made in order to stay on the right side of government laws and guidelines laid down in response to the pandemic. Personal and family lives have been disrupted almost beyond endurance therefore it is not good to see political leaders acting, as someone has said, as if they are bullet-proof. The public is right to be shocked, disappointed and to give vent to their disapproval.
Sometimes, however, when a public figure goes down the kicking is relentless to the point that I begin to feel uncomfortable. My disapproval of Ms. Ferrier’s actions are now a matter of record but I do not like to think of myself as having been caught up in a pack mentality which will not be satisfied until the victim has been torn to shreds. Think about this. If I was Ms. Ferrier’s minister, what would you expect me to do? There was a report last night of a colleague of hers who ‘couldn’t bear to talk to her on the phone.’ What would you think of a minister who had that attitude to a member, even if they had committed a criminal act? But never mind minsters. Is that that the correct response for any Christian?
The thing is, Christian love is no easy option. Space and time don’t allow me to unpack it in a way that is totally satisfying. But Christian love does not call upon us to like everyone and to endorse all their actions. What is does demand is that despite what people think and do we will not wish the worst for them. And sometimes when we make that decision, and it is a decision, we might find we understand them better and maybe even begin to like them. All I know of Ms. Ferrier is what I have seen and heard in the last 48 hours. But if I was her minister I would be on the phone. The last thing I wish for anyone is that whatever circumstances have brought them low they have no hope in Christ.
That brings me to the fundamental need of politicians and any other members of our fallen race. They need a Saviour. The moral and spiritual atmosphere of Scotland and the UK in general does not demand a great deal from politicians. There are no accepted standards of personal morality. They do not need to be paragons of virtue. The nation it seems does not demand it. Everything depends on how politicians present themselves. There is plenty of evidence that able and sometimes outstanding politicians never reached the heights because they ‘did not look the part.’ Maybe it’s time for us all to grow up a bit. It doesn’t matter how smooth the rhetoric, how folksy the style, how effective the impact on the public’s emotions, politicians are sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. They share our fallen nature and therefore stand in need of a Saviour.
You know, having held up that man in the newsagent as an example of somewhere I do not want to go spiritually I have not prayed for him. See how it works? Not happy with ‘shrieking and finger pointing’ I have been taken up by the same unhealthy draft that chills the inner being. It’s easier to point the finger than to offer your heart for cleansing.
