The Modern Cult of Life and the Taboo of Death

The Modern Cult of Life and the Taboo of Death

I’ve entitled this piece, “The Cult of Life” as a contrast with ancient Malta which had a “Cult of Death”.

Malta’s Cult of Death

This is important because the “Cult of Death” was an extreme. As Malta suffered environmental degradation in ancient times, most particularly in drought and a diminished water supply, the people turned inward towards their ancestors, and a “Death Cult” which not only revered the dead, but increasingly built more elaborate architecture became a way of ignoring the issues of their present, leading to a virtual extinction of that population.

Pollen records and soil studies reveal that during the final centuries of the temple period, the islands suffered severe progressive deforestation and catastrophic soil erosion. This ecological strain culminated around 2500 BC during a broader Mediterranean climatic downturn which brought severe, prolonged drought. As crops failed, water supplies dwindled, and infant mortality spiked, the Temple People did not pivot to new agricultural techniques or seek outward migration. Instead, they doubled down on their monumental religion.

Building more elaborate tombs and temples offered a false sense of control over an uncontrollable environment. The architecture of death became an expensive, resource-heavy shield used to ignore the structural rot of the present

Ancient Malta handled the fear of environmental collapse by pretending the dead could fix it, but our society handles the fear of death by pretending it isn't happening. For me, at my age, I see death looming, and every year extra is a gift. But for many, death is something blocked off, kept at bay, and life is for the moment, and the moment alone.

People Die Elsewhere

And Papa said to Mama as he passed around the blackeyed peas
Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits please
There's five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow
And Mama said it was shame about Billie Joe, anyhow
Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge
And now Billie Joe MacAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge

(Ode to Billie Joe, song by Bobbie Gentry)

Sociologists and anthropologists often refer to the change which I have witnessed in my own lifetime as the "medicalisation and sanitization of death."

Here I want to explore how this has come about, and how it has completely transformed our relationship with dying, moving us from communal grieving to automated administration.

Historically, death was domestic. People died at home, and the "parlour" or living room was literally where the corpse was laid out for the community to visit (before the funeral industry rebranded these spaces as "funeral parlours").

Even now, with funeral parlours, there is an opportunity to visit an open coffin, though few do it. I have only ever done so once, when my beloved partner Annie died suddenly, and I wished to see her dead body one last time before her cremation. I had seen her dead before, on a bed in the hospital. I was profoundly affected by grief, and that is why I did so. But when my father died, I felt no such impulse, and yet I also wanted to write a tribute for the service which also mourned and grieved.

But for the most part, the dead that we know are elderly. The explosion of care homes and specialized hospital wards has in some ways privatized the end of life. We can visit, some do, some do not. They fear seeing in the dementia or the other signs of age and decay, their own future selves reflected back.

So death in such circumstances has becomes professionalized, clinical event managed by doctors and nurses, rather than a domestic event managed by family. By removing the dying from the household, society successfully managed to look away.

The Rise of "Direct Cremation" and Unattended Funerals

I am immortal, I have inside me blood of kings (yeah, yeah)
I have no rival, no man can be my equal
Take me to the future of your world

(Queen, Princes of the Universe)

The "simple cremation" or direct cremation represents the ultimate optimization of this sanitization. Popularized significantly in recent years (and accelerated by the pandemic), direct cremation involves collecting the deceased, cremating them without a viewing or service, and returning the ashes in a box.

While financially efficient and low-stress, it strips away the collective "speed bump" that a funeral forces upon a community. Without a service, there is no designated time or place where people must stop their routines, stand in a room together, and confront the fact that someone is gone. Instead the advertisements promote using the money in a more beneficial way – have a party!

It reduces the messy, emotional climax of a human life to a logistical transaction. The ashes can be interned later, and a service or sorts can take place when that occurs. But internments are usually private family occasions, rather than collective mourning of a funeral. This is not mentioned in the advertisement, which concentrates more on how the money can be better spent having that party!

Traditional funerals are not just for the immediate family; they are a public acknowledgement of a loss. They draw in extended family, neighbours, old colleagues, and friends who also need to process the death. When the initial event is entirely private and unattended, that collective space for shared grief vanishes.

The promise of a future party sounds appealing in an advert, but when the time comes, families are often still deep in raw grief. Organising an upbeat event can feel emotionally jarring or overwhelming. Consequently, many of these promised celebrations simply never happen, leaving a lingering sense of unaddressed closure.

Direct cremation works perfectly for families who actively want to separate the disposition of the body from the memorialisation. However, when it is chosen purely based on clever corporate marketing or a desire to keep things "tidy," the emotional cost to those left behind can be heavy. Grief is messy, and centuries of human history show that communal rituals exist precisely because we need them to navigate that emotional climax.

The Secularization of Language and Platitudes

I'll fly a star ship across the universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again and again and again
And again and again and again

(Highwayman, written by Jimmy Webb)

When traditional religious frameworks fell away, they took with them a vocabulary that, whatever one’s beliefs, was built to handle immense weight. Words like sin, redemption, mourning, dust to dust, and the soul had gravity.

Today’s secular, humanist approach often insists on a "celebration of life" rather than a funeral. While celebrating a life is beautiful, doing so exclusively can aggressively crowd out room for active, heavy grief.

The language of death is also sanitised. Platitudes replace the strong words of faith. We have phrases such as "they live on in our memories," "they are stargazing now," or "they’ve gained their wings". These act as linguistic shock absorbers. They buffer us against the stark, cold reality of absolute absence. They transform a physical, permanent loss into a soft, psychological sentiment.

The Fear of the "Messy"

Miss Marple: She wanted a normal woman's life. She wanted reality. You returned her to fairyland...
Miss Bradbury-Scott: ...and now...
Miss Marple: And now? She's safe now from any unsuitable princes. Sleeping Beauty Lies in the ruins... ...and flowers grow round her.
Miss Bradbury-Scott: Yes...yes.
Miss Marple: No, Miss Bradbury-Scott, she's a rotted corpse and there is no one to kiss her awake.

(Agatha Christie, Nemesis)

We live in an era obsessed with wellness, optimization, and life extension. In a culture that treats aging as a disease to be cured and bodies as biological machines to be optimized, death represents the ultimate systemic failure. Because we cannot optimize it, we hide it. The open coffin, the vigil, the viewing of the body are all part of the ritual of death which these forced people to look at a corpse and realize that they, too, are biological and temporary.

By removing the body entirely from the modern grieving process, we have managed to turn death into an abstract concept rather than a physical reality.

Hiding the body allows a wellness-obsessed society to maintain its delusion of control. If we don’t have to look at the physical failure of our biological optimization, we can pretend that death is something we can outmaneuver, delay indefinitely, or manage quietly without disrupting the machinery of daily life.

By choosing total convenience and "no fuss," we aren't just saving money or avoiding logistical hassle; we are actively shielding ourselves from the very thing that gives life its urgency and gravity: its absolute transience.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see.
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

(Abide with Me, Hymn, Henry Lyte)

More Short Stories: Now thank we all our God

Now thank we all our God

In the closing years of the Thirty Years' War, the Saxon town of Eilenburg lay exhausted beneath the weight of suffering. Refugees crowded its narrow streets, having fled villages and farms devastated by soldiers who had marched across Germany for a generation. Scarcity was everywhere. Harvests had failed, prices had risen beyond the means of ordinary people, and disease spread rapidly among a population already weakened by hunger.

At the centre of this troubled town stood Martin Rinckart, Lutheran pastor of St Nicholas Church. Born in 1586, he had never imagined that his ministry would be shaped by such relentless tragedy. Yet year after year he had watched war draw ever closer until it seemed there was scarcely a family in Eilenburg untouched by grief.

Yet he refused to give into despair. In the midst of the darkness, God remained, God with the suffering, still there in the small acts of compassion from those his grace had touched. Even in the valley of the shadow of death, unseen yet present, they brought countless gifts of love. Everyone who shared their own meagre rations, who held hands and comforted the dying, who prayed for peace was a cause of thanksgiving as they reached out with heart and hands and voices.

Now thank we all our God
with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things has done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mothers' arms
has blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

From the window of the parsonage, Rinckart could see the rooftops stretching towards the river. Beyond them lay a landscape scarred by conflict, but it was the burdens within the town that weighed most heavily upon him. Thousands had sought refuge behind Eilenburg's walls, hoping to find safety from marauding armies. Instead, overcrowding had helped to bring plague and famine to their doors. Many days began and ended with funerals.

The Eilenburg Church Death Registers were maintained directly by the pastor and reached a peak in 1637 when Rinckart was forced to log 40 to 50 funerals a day. Plague stalked the streets, thousands of names were recorded, so many that they had to be buried in mass graves.

The church bells tolled so often that their sound seemed woven into the fabric of daily life. Where several ministers had once served the town, Rinckart increasingly found himself carrying the responsibility almost alone, comforting the bereaved, caring for the sick, and committing the dead to God's mercy.

Each of the city’s four pastors held ten or more funerals a day. One fled out of fear. One by one, the others died, and Rinckart buried them. Then his own dear wife was taken ill and died of the plague. He preached her funeral sermon just two days later, on May 10, 1637. For his sermon text, he chose Psalm 77, a psalm deeply rooted in agonizing grief and questioning God, which begins "I cry aloud to God... Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favour again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever?"

But that was not the final word, he knew well. God remained faithful, even beyond death, his promises a sure and certain guide for all who were perplexed by so much suffering and loss, even as he himself mourned one so dear to him. Out of that conviction grew words that would sustain generations yet unborn.

O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts
and blessed peace to cheer us,
to keep us in his grace,
and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all ills
of this world in the next.

Each week seemed darker than the last. Yet even amid such hardship, moments of grace still shone through the gloom. The famine following the 1637 plague was so extreme that historical records note thirty or forty people could be seen openly fighting in Eilenburg’s streets for a dead cat or crow. In response to this utter destitution, Rinckart systematically gave away virtually everything he owned. He divided his household's own meagre food rations to feed his starving neighbours, eventually mortgaging his future pastoral income to purchase basic provisions and clothing for the city's poorest refugees

By the late 1640s, over 8,000 citizens had died, hundreds of homes were completely destroyed, and the town council was reduced to just three surviving members. The population had lost almost every physical possession to plundering soldiers.

The Swedish army surrounded Eilenburg and demanded an unpayable, crushing ransom of 30,000 florins. Knowing the citizens had absolutely nothing left, Rinckart gathered his desperate congregation out in the open. He famously called out to them: “Come, my children, we can find no hearing, no mercy with men; let us take refuge with God.” The entire crowd fell to their knees in fervent prayer and began singing the hymn “Wenn wir in höchsten Nöten sein” (“When in the Hour of Utmost Need”)

Moved by the profound, humble display of faith amidst ruin, the Swedish commander relented and drastically lowered the levy.

One evening Rinckart returned home after another day of pastoral duties. The meal set before his family was modest, but they received it with gratitude. As they sat together, one of his daughters asked whether peace would ever come again to Germany. For a moment he was silent.

No one could know when the war would end. Too many treaties had failed, and too many promises had been broken. Yet as he looked around the table, seeing the faces of those he loved gathered safely beside him, he was reminded that God's gifts were not measured only in prosperity and success. They could also be found in perseverance, in fellowship, and in the quiet courage that carried people through adversity, strengthened by the Holy Spirit.

Later that night, after the household had retired to bed, Rinckart remained by the light of a single candle. Outside, the wind moved through the darkened streets of Eilenburg. Within the room, he took up his pen, shaping words that would become one of Christianity's most enduring hymns of thanksgiving.

"Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices, who wondrous things has done, in whom his world rejoices."

When he finally laid down his pen, the suffering around him had not vanished. The war still raged, and Eilenburg's trials were not yet over. Nevertheless, Martin Rinckart had given the Church a hymn that would outlive both the conflict and the century that produced it.

For generations to come, Christians would sing his words in times of celebration and in seasons of hardship, finding in them the same conviction that had sustained their author: that even in the darkest chapters of history, God's grace remains present, and his blessings continue to accompany his people, yesterday, today, and for evermore.

It would be translated into English in 1858 by Catherine Winkworth as “Now Thank We All Our God.” She believed historic German chorales offered profound spiritual resilience to comfort and strengthen English Christians facing modern suffering.

She lived in Manchester, seeing the industrial boom, but the dark side of that prosperity, with the devastating poverty, gruelling factory conditions, and overcrowding. Following that came the ravages of cholera outbreaks in cities, where there was a climate of grief and anxiety that mirrored the plague-ridden Germany of Martin Rinckart.

Living through the aftermath of the First World War and the rise of Nazi Germany, the theologian Karl Barth explicitly named "Now Thank We All Our God" (Nun danket alle Gott) as his favourite hymn.

To Barth, sin and suffering are real, but they are ultimately defeated by the reality of God's "Yes" to humanity. Just as the hymn's original author Martin Rinckart penned these words of praise while burying dozens of plague victims a day during the Thirty Years' War, Barth lived through the horrors of World War I and the rise of Nazi Germany.

Barth championed the hymn because it models a radical, defiant faith: it chooses to boldly proclaim "Who wondrous things has done, in whom this world rejoices" even when the world around us is in absolute chaos. It would be a hymn of gratitude sung at his funeral.

Across centuries marked by plague, poverty, war and tyranny, each generation discovered anew the truth Rinckart had expressed in song: gratitude is not the denial of suffering, but an act of faith that God's grace is greater than it.

All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given,
the Son and Spirit blest,
who reign in highest heaven
the one eternal God,
whom heaven and earth adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be evermore.

Samhain Journey

I wanted to write something with a reflective, almost philosophical quality, blending Samhain imagery with Heraclitus, Pythagoras, and existence in a new kind of existence, a renewal or new creation. Pythagoras provides an unexpected but effective bridge from change to permanence through mathematical and musical patterns. 

I wanted to show how identity is pattern rather than substance. The water changes but the waterfall remains; notes pass away but the melody survives; the body dies but something of the self continues. That is a very Pythagorean way of approaching the mystery of death, and it fits the Samhain theme of crossing boundaries between worlds.

Samhain Journey

Death leaves like a bird in flight
A soul departing from body cold
Drawn over towards a shining light
Time of change for young or old

The waterfall changes every day
And yet is looks the same as well
Here is a mystery of death’s way
Transmigration’s ancient spell

Pythagoras saw numbers strange
And harmonies in musical note
Patterns endure with every change
The mystery in the song he wrote

Journey’s end is a new beginning
A phoenix reborn in fire singing

Stamps for Le Centenaire de La Société Jersiaise (1973)

Stamps for Le Centenaire de La Société Jersiaise (1973)

La Société Jersiaise exists to preserve and to record as much as possible of Jersey's archaeology, history and natural history. With a membership now approaching 2,000, it celebrates its centenary in January 1973. In St. Helier, it has a large Museum containing many exhibits, an art gallery and a well stocked library which is available to students and to Members of La Société. Excursions to places of archaeological and historical interest and lectures for Members are also arranged. La Société owns La Hougue Bie, one of the finest Neolithic Tombs in Western Europe which is surmounted by two medieval chapels and whose grounds contain an Agricultural Museum and also one relating to the German Occupation of the Island 1940-1945.

2 ½ p stamp - Jersey Silver Wine Cup and Christening Cup

Jersey made silver carries no hall mark, date stamp or sovereign's head. It generally shows a maker's mark, though not always, usually incorporating his initials. Most of it was made in the eighteenth century, and up to about 1820, and it now has great rarity value in world markets.

The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1695, which caused the flight from France of hundreds of thousands of French Protestants in search of religious toleration, brought many silversmiths to Jersey and Guernsey, and they were mainly the makers of our fine Island silver.

The wine cup shown is of a type designed for use in Church, but which also appeared in private houses. The so-called christening cup is of a pattern unique to Jersey.

3p stamp - Gold Torque

The gold torque of Jersey is among the finest found in the British Isles, second only to the great torque of Tara in Ireland. It is 141 cm, or 4' 72" long, with a diameter of 1.5 cm, and weighs 24 ozs. (Troy). It is of nearly pure gold, cruciform and twisted in cross section. When found it was loosely coiled, and it may have been worn in this form, and was probably the ceremonial belt or collar of a Bronze Age Chief, in about 1,000 B.C. It was dug up in St. Helier in 1 889 when foundations for a house were being made. It is unlikely that it was made in Jersey.

7 ½ p stamp - Royal Seal of Charles II

Charles I was executed on January 30th 1649, the news being confirmed in Jersey on February 17th. Sir George de Carteret, Bailiff and Lieutenant-Governor, immediately ordered that Charles II be proclaimed King. The proclamation, signed by twenty-five Jerseymen, was read in the Market Place.

Later that year, Charles II, recognised as King only in Jersey, visited Elizabeth Castle, and whilst there he signed various documents, some carrying his Great Seal, examples of which are almost unknown outside Jersey at this date. The impression shown is on a contract selling to Helier de Carteret the fief "qui fut a l'Eveque d'Avranches". This fief, which is land on which the Seigneur could claim certain rights and dues, is situated in the parishes of Trinity and St. Mary.

It is interesting to know that the Charles II Royal Seal bears the date 1648 although Charles I was executed in January 1649. This is because until 1751 when it was changed by Act of Parliament to January 1st the year in both England and Jersey began on March 25th. The actual proclamation of Charles II in Jersey is dated 1648.

9p stamp - Armorican Bronze Coins

Gauls fleeing from the advancing Romans in Armorica (Brittany) in about 55 B.C. brought their wealth in coins and buried it in Jersey, usually on high ground. Several hoards have been dug up on widely dispersed sites, numbering in all many thousand coins. Most of them are made of bronze with some incidental silver content, some of silver and some of gold. All carry on the obverse an impressionistic profile of the head of Apollo, as derived from the gold stater of Philip of Macedon.

The reverse shows various treatments of a winged victory, chariot and charioteer, from the reverse of the same gold stater.

Technical Details

Printed on white unwatermarked paper with coloured silk fibres and special gumming for tropical climates by the photogravure process of Courvoisiers, La Chaux de Fonds, Switzerland. Stamp size: the format will be 26 mm by 37.5 mm and the perforation size 112 by 114. Printed in sheets of 50, 5 stamps per row and 10 rows. Artwork designs produced by Gordon Drummond of Bognor Regis.

Printed at The House of Questa, London, England.

 

Guernsey in 1974 – Part 6

Guernsey in 1974 – Part 6

This is an extract from Peter Haining’s guide book of 1974, which is as much interest today for the historian as to the tourist, as many of the places and industries described in his book have long vanished. Please do not take it as a current guide. Modern day differences are also given in italics.

Bays for bathing – Part 2

Petit Bot: A very popular and picturesque beach which has two beautiful, wooded valleys converging almost on its beach. There are three actual roads to the shore which provide a variety of views, but for those in a hurry there is a Mini-bus service from the main bus route. The beach is pebbly at full tide, but as this recedes sandy areas are revealed. Bathing is excellent. The main “‘sight”’ in the area is on the Route de la Fallaise—an old farmhouse whose occupiers had the job of keeping watch for the approach of pirates. On the shore is a tearoom, the Old Mill and floats and deck chairs for hire. For the explorer there is the unusually shaped cavern known as “Dog Cave”.

Today, standard vehicular access is essentially via narrow, winding lanes descending into the valley. To manage traffic in the summer, the main descent route operates on a strict one-way system. Furthermore, there is no dedicated mini-bus service to the shore. Visitors using public transit must take standard Guernsey bus routes (such as routes 91, 92, 93, 94, or 95), exit at the main road stop at La Bourg or near the Forest Stores, and walk approximately 1.5 km down the steep hill to the beach.

The Petit Bôt Tea Room still operates right by the slipway and serves as a popular stop for drinks, ice cream, and light lunches. It occupies a building with deep historic roots as a former mill (remnants of the old stream and waterwheel structure can still be seen nearby). However, commercial hires for beach floats and deck chairs are no longer standard operational facilities on the shore; modern visitors generally bring their own gear or rent paddleboards/kayaks during peak summer operations.

Portelet: This is a typical fisherman’s harbour, but it also has a stretch of sand which provides good bathing for all including the very young. The rocks in the cove are ideal for the pool fisherman. The harbour itself is not very old and has never been much used except by a few small boats and by seamen seeking that Channel Island delicacy, the ormer. The Hanois Lighthouse on Petit Hanois is just round the coast from Portelet and when erected in 1862 prevented many ships from going to their doom—as they had in the past—on the treacherous rocks around Pleinmont Point. Among those who praised the building of the lighthouse was Victor Hugo who mentions it at some length in Toilers of the Sea.

This is completely true. During his 15-year exile on Guernsey, Victor Hugo was a passionate campaigner for social and maritime safety. He publicly advocated for the construction of Les Hanois Lighthouse to stop the frequent shipwrecks. He heavily featured the lighthouse, Pleinmont, and the treacherous reefs in his 1866 novel Toilers of the Sea (Les Travailleurs de la mer), even using the Hanois rocks as a focal setting for a deliberate shipwreck plot point in the book.

Rocquaine Bay: A wide sweep of bay liberally scattered with rocks which make bathing only really safe when the tide is in. The road runs along the shore and there are many suitable spots for parking and numerous cafes. Because much of the land is low-lying, dykes have been built and during the winter months these take a tremendous pounding from the westerly gales. Just off Les Paysans Road there is an interesting 12-foot-high pillar of granite called la Longue Roque. It is in fact and ancient menhir and there is a legend that it is frequented by fairies. Until quite recently, the local people burned a Guy at its base every November 5th. Witchcraft is also associated with the bay, and the centre for this was the white tower of Fort Grey which stands on its own lonely promontory. The area is also dotted with gun sites built by the Germans during their occupation.

Wasted Money in a Diminishing Church: A Comment

Robin Gill and John Craven of The Centre for Anglican History and Theology at the Universities of Kent and Christ Church Canterbury have published this report:

Wasted Money in a Diminishing Church: A Report on the Church of England

I think one of the key statements is this:

"In the 21st century dioceses in the Church of England almost doubled their number of administrators (including some 220 on safeguarding alone), while the number of parish clergy almost halved, and churchgoing continued to decline."

But the same trend can be seen in the public sector, with the growth of administrative roles compared to front-line staff:

Economists and public policy experts point to several systemic drivers that mimic the trends seen in the Church of England. 

(1) Modern governments face immense regulatory, legal, and risk-management pressures. Just as the Church added roughly 220 roles dedicated strictly to safeguarding, public sector agencies must continuously hire staff for compliance, equity, audit, health and safety, and data protection (e.g., GDPR)

(2) In what researchers call the “New Public Bureaucracy,” internal organizational changes frequently concentrate new hiring in advisory, policymaking, and accountability-facing functions. Frontline workers (like teachers, nurses, or police officers) are increasingly managed by expanding layers of coordinators and corporate planners

How can this be changed?

Church governing bodies (such as the Church of England’s General Synod) can pass legislation that legally caps the percentage of church income that can be spent on central diocesan staff, human resources, and non-parochial officers. By enforcing an institutional “frontline-first” spending ratio, money is legally protected for local rectories, curates, and neighborhood outreach programs.

Advocacy groups like Save the Parish point out that the Church of England effectively replicates its legal, financial, HR, and safeguarding structures 42 times over—once for each individual diocese. This duplication creates a massive administrative overhead, costing an aggregate of over £150 million annually across the dioceses.

Instead of 42 separate HR payroll systems, 42 IT infrastructures, and 42 distinct legal teams, the Church could operate 4 or 5 regional administrative hubs. The savings could be instantly redirected toward funding frontline parish priests.

Proofs and Refutations in Historical Jesus Research – Part 5

Proofs and Refutations in Historical Jesus Research – Part 5

Dale Allison Jr.

The evolution of the "later" Dale Allison Jr. ,crystallized in books like Constructing Jesus (2010), The Historical Christ and the Theological Jesus (2009), and his culmination of thoughts in Interpreting Jesus (2025), presents the most methodologically honest journey in the field

If early Allison was a strict, hyper-focused textual surgeon defending Albert Schweitzer’s apocalyptic Jesus, the later Allison has stepped back to look at the entire landscape through the lens of cognitive science, psychology, and cross-cultural anthropology.

A Lakatosian critic looking at the later Dale Allison would point to three key transformations that define his modern framework:

The Dynamic "Lemma-Incorporation" of Cognitive Psychology

Early in his career, Allison used traditional text-critical tools to test verses. But then he did something very un-academic: he aggressively looked at outside fields to test his own assumptions. He immersed himself in the scientific study of human memory, eye-witness testimonies, and trauma psychology.

Instead of abandoning his historical project when memory studies proved that humans constantly distort details, Allison used lemma-incorporation to completely redesign his research blueprint:

• The New Blueprint: He conceded that the Gospels are full of "made-believe" details, misremembered sequences, and altered quotes. But instead of falling into the ultra-literary camp’s view that it’s all a fictional riddle, he argued that human memory is highly reliable at preserving the "gist" or the broad impression of an impactful person.

• The Lakatosian Shift: He shifted his "Hard Core" from “We can know exactly what Jesus said on a Tuesday” to “We can know the recurring macro-patterns that run through the whole tradition.” If the "gist" of an apocalyptic prophet, an intense exorcist, and a radical boundary-breaker repeatedly shows up across all layers, that is where history resides.

Moving from "Rigid" to "Contingent" Eschatology

The defining hallmark of early Allison (Jesus of Nazareth: Millenarian Prophet) was that Jesus confidently predicted a literal, cosmic, supernatural end to history within his generation.

When confronted with various Gospel texts where Jesus talks about the Kingdom growing slowly like a seed, or implying an indefinite delay, early Allison tended to "monster-bar" those texts as late fabrications by a disappointed church trying to cope with the delay

In Interpreting Jesus (2025), later Allison elegantly adjusted his "protective belt" by introducing "contingent eschatology":

• He realized that 1st-century Jewish prophets didn't always operate with fixed, robotic timelines.

• He argued that Jesus initially expected an immediate cosmic climax, but when Israel largely rejected his message, Jesus’s own expectations modified over time. He began to foresee a tragic interim period where he would have to suffer and die before the final climax arrived. By moving from rigid dogmatism to a fluid, evolving human psychology for Jesus, his theory became vastly more realistic and harder to falsify.

Radical Cross-Cultural Heuristics

Later Allison has largely broken out of the insular sandbox of normal biblical studies. To test if his portrait of Jesus makes sense, he uses a cross-cultural comparative method. He stacks Jesus up against documented prophetic and millenarian movements from across modern history—Native American ghost dancers, Sudanese prophets, and charismatic millenarian groups.

A Lakatosian critic would praise this as a highly progressive move. Instead of keeping Jesus trapped in an academic museum, Allison uses real-world anthropological data to show that when human groups are gripped by intense apocalyptic expectations, they behave exactly like the early Jesus movement did: they abandon families, ditch economic security, practice radical asceticism, and experience shared visionary phenomena.

A Lakatosian critic would say that Dale Allison has built the most intellectually bulletproof and self-aware research program in the field today.

Unlike N.T. Wright, who uses Lakatosian defenses to ensure history always perfectly matches his orthodox faith, and unlike Walsh and Mills, who use special pleading to turn a messy oral text into an elite literary game, later Allison operates with a brutal, refreshing humility. He explicitly states that his reconstructions are just a "hypothesis" and a "thought experiment". 

By building fallibility, memory decay, and human psychological shifts directly into the core of his theory, he has created a model of the historical Jesus that is incredibly resilient, deeply human, and completely unaligned with any modern political or theological agenda.

Next week:

An Outlier: C.S. Lewis

The Pilot: An Anglican Alphabet: Grace

AN ANGLICAN ALPHABET: GRACE
By BARRY GILES
From The Pilot, 1991

THE LADY who looked after the unmarried curates in my first parish was named Grace. Generations of choirboys and young curates there had smiled, if not giggled, at the line, "Grace is stor'd in the font." I still think of her when grace is referred to in prayers and hymns.

But grace, that is God's grace, cannot be stored in that sense. It is not a substance. Grace is the favour which God shows to man. It is the touch of the Holy Spirit; His power at work in us. Grace is God's free gift to us. It is not something we can deserve, nor earn. Salvation, and all means of God's grace depend entirely upon the way in which God has worked out His Will. Unlike our own wish to achieve everything by our efforts, grace emphasises our total dependence upon another - God.

The Sacraments are means of grace. That means that we cannot simply plug in and receive all the power that God through His Holy Spirit will supply. The sacramental life, indeed the whole of our Christian life, is not passive but active. We need to rely on that power, not merely the outward and visible sign, but the inward and spiritual meaning whereby God's grace, and God's grace alone, can renew us, and help us grow, day by day, into what He would have us be. If we leave Him and His means of grace out our calculations, how can we possibly grow and develop as Christians? Nobody can deserve heaven, nor any reward from God. Whatever God gives us comes entirely from His free grace.

Clergy know that there is another meaning the word, grace. When invited to a meal -¬people's homes, or on official occasions - they asked to say "grace." They know why: and they know whether or not this is a regular occurrence in that household! Long before the Christian people have thanks - grace, from the Latin deo gratias - for their food. Many still do. Many do not (except when the vicar is there!). 

Given the present climate of publicity for those who hungry, perhaps it may be that more of us (w profess and call ourselves Anglicans) might reminded of our dependence upon God for our daily bread. After all graces do not have to be t solemn, or too long. One of the best is "Thank God for food." It is not so much what one says, but t reason one says it that makes all the difference all our prayer-life. Graces are prayers. There is a book, edited by Carolyn Mart called "A Book of Graces" which you may find helpful. But the best graces are those which come from the heart; and yours. Use them daily, and do not wait for next time your Rector is present!

Wintertide

Something of an evocation of  October time when winter has come upon us.

Wintertide

The year draws in, the nights grow long
It is now much darker in the dawn
One final time to mow the lawn
The birds migrate in happy throng

The owl sings out its ghostly song
The hedgehog creeps along the lawn
The year draws in, the nights grow long
It is now much darker in the dawn

Winds are whistling gale force song
The fire is lit, and the curtains drawn
I sip hot chocolate, and feel a yawn
The candles lit, their flame so strong
And I’m warm inside, where I belong
The year draws in, the nights grow long

TESSON CHAPEL: 1861 – 2001 – Part 2

TESSON CHAPEL: 1861 – 2001 – Part 2
By Richard and Gwyneth Syvret

THE TURN OF THE CENTURY

The buyer of the chapel in 1888 was Mr William Pellier. His daughter, Elsie Mary, who later became Mrs Pitts, inherited the chapel on his death in 1893. It is believed that Mr Pellier allowed the chapel to be used by a Mr. Gilley as a potato store for a time.

The year 1893 however also saw the birth of Miss Charlotte Luce, a niece of Mr Philip S Langlois — the daughter of his sister, Charlotte, and her husband, Francis Luce. Her recollections of early days lived at Tower Hill on the opposite side of the road to the chapel included in particular attendance at a day school in the chapel for about twenty boys and girls called 'The Vale School'. The only teacher was Miss Laura Laurens and it was remembered that in those years around the turn of the century the children sang to her organ music, were taught writing and sewing and sat at two long trestle tables. Drinking water was obtained from Miss Luce's home.

In 1904, when what is now St Lawrence Primary School was opened, the Vale School was closed and all the pupils transferred there. Miss Laurens took up a position in the new school.

The building however had been brought back into use also as a chapel in 1897. Sunday 18th July in that year saw the first of the fortnightly evangelistic services that were held at 3pm each Sunday afternoon. An advertisement in the 'Nouvelle Chronique' heralded the opening and the chapel was identified as 'proche le Moulin de Tesson' — near Tesson Mill. It must have been around this time however that it became known for a while as Rock Chapel.

Closure of the day school, it seemed, allowed the owner, Miss Pellier, to lease Rock Chapel to Mr Philip Sorsoleil Langlois from the summer of 1904 onwards. There is reference in the lease to strips of land to the north and east of the chapel and permission is given to build on those strips and to fix in the building "an ordinary fireplace or other heating apparatus". Mr Langlois' connection with the chapel was to continue until his death in 1933 and was to be extended through his daughters, grandchildren and great grandchildren — and their spouses - to the present day.

THE BRETHREN CONNECTION

Mr Langlois had, prior to 1904, married Miss Ann Bichard. Husband and wife, principally through their friendship with Mr and Mrs Monet, had close connections with the Open Brethren meeting at Lyric Hall in Cattle Street, St Helier and later in Belmont Hall, Belmont Road, St Helier. Mr Monet, who was a leading figure with the Open Brethren in Jersey, was effectively a partner with Mr Langlois in the commencement and maintenance of an evangelical work at the chapel.

Not surprisingly therefore those attending the chapel came under the ministry of the lay speakers connected with that fellowship. Also, Mr Langlois was happy later to link Tesson Chapel, as it became known, to a Fellowship of Undenominational and Unattached Churches and Missions which included churches in Halkett Place (St Helier), and at Maufant (St Saviour), Les Tours (St Clement), Sion (St John) and Mitspa (Trinity). He preached himself, in both French and English, and was the superintendent of Tesson Chapel and of the meetings held there up until the time of his death in 1933.

It is recalled that in the years when Mr. Langlois headed the work Mr Harold Alexandre, Mr Stephen Bull and Mr W Horn (the latter two being sons-in-law of Mr Monet), amongst many others, preached at Tesson. An afternoon Sunday school was started in the mid-1920's by Mr and Mrs Beard, missionaries on furlough, and Hilda Langlois, Mr Langlois' elder daughter and her husband Mr George Querée took up that work which at one stage had around fifty children attending. Mr Hedley W Maillard also assisted for some time. The afternoon service was moved to the evening and Mrs Langlois took charge of the opening up of the chapel for the services.

In 1931 there was a Sunday afternoon school at 3pm and a Sunday evening service at 6.30pm. The weeknight service was held at 7.30pm on a Wednesday. Sometimes services were held in the open-air just outside the chapel. Those who heard the good news of forgiveness through the Lord Jesus Christ in that way were the many French farm workers who came over year by year to help with the manual harvesting of the potato crops. One may have no doubt at all that the gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ was preached there throughout those years and that the teaching would have been based solely on the Bible as the Word of God and on the historic Protestant Christian faith.

Before his death Mr. Langlois organised the insertion in the west gable of a window designed to give light in the pulpit area. Mr Philip Le Sueur was the stonemason. The only occasions when those attending had an opportunity to give money was when it was wished to make chapel donations to missionary causes. At all other times there was a notice in the porch "All seats free - no collection". Most of the congregation walked to the chapel - often from two or three miles away - and heating was by paraffin stoves.

On 10th October 1925 a change of ownership of the chapel occurred when Mr Langlois purchased the freehold together with the adjacent cotil for £200. The freehold was therefore part of his estate when he died. The 'partage' which took place in 1933 between his two daughters, Mrs Hilda Ann Querée and Mrs Emily Rose Coutanche, resulted in the former inheriting the chapel.

Mrs Querée and her brother-in-law Mr Philip Coutanche watched over the fellowship that continued to gather. Mr and Mrs Querée had no children but the son and four daughters of Mr and Mrs. Coutanche were all brought up at the chapel. They and their respective marriage partners comprised a substantial part of the congregation during the remainder of the 1930s.

The preachers continued to be drawn mainly from the Belmont Hall Brethren Assembly and a number of new names from there appeared like Mr Lindsay Proudfoot and Mr William Perchard. In addition, from other churches, Mr Bert Renouf and his sister Susan, Mr John Langlois (who always spoke in French), Mr John Le Breton (who had married Phyllis, one of the daughters of Mr and Mrs Coutanche) and his father Mr J P Le Breton (who was a Wesleyan circuit preacher) came to preach and, in some cases regularly to attend.

Just before the Second World War Mrs Querée arranged and paid for an extension to the chapel behind the west gable and to the north. Mr Andre Jezequel undertook the carpentry work and Mr W Horn's building firm dealt with the blockwork. The extension comprised a small room for Sunday school activities plus a toilet reached from outside the building.

THE GERMAN OCCUPATION AND POST WAR YEARS

All through the occupation of Jersey by German armed forces the work at the chapel continued. The shortage of heating fuel in the early 1940s gave rise to the placing of a wood-burning stove in the centre of the chapel with long pipes reaching to the chimney in the north wall.

The main source of speakers during that time and the 1950s and 1960s remained the Belmont Hall Brethren Assembly and to those previously named were added Mr Ernest Le Breton. Mr William Proudfoot, Mr W Querée (a Wesleyan), Mr Richard Voisin, Mr Kenneth Lear, Mr Eric Colebrook, Mr Enoch Prosser, Mr James Colback, Mr Clifford Colback and others. The Coutanche grandchildren swelled the numbers attending after the occupation years, participating with others in the Sunday school and later as part of the fellowship. After the end of the Second World War it was decided to hold a Sunday morning service as well as the afternoon Sunday school, Sunday evening service and weeknight meeting and the chapel had taken on a full church role in the lives of its congregation.

Mrs Queree's ownership, Mr Coutanche's administration and their combined supervision of the fellowship at Tesson Chapel allowed the spiritual teaching ministry of Mr John ("Jack") Le Breton to have its full effect during all these years. Mr Le Breton, as mentioned earlier, had married Phyllis, one of Mr Coutanche's daughters and a niece therefore of Mrs Querée. He was an able preacher and teacher. It was perhaps not surprising therefore that on her death in 1970, Mrs. Hilda Querée bequeathed to him by will the property of the chapel and additionally of the car park that had been formed on her land in the meadow across the road.

With a view to the long term maintenance of a Christian testimony at Tesson Chapel, Mr Le Breton very quickly set about placing both the properties in the hands of trustees to be held for the purposes of undenominational meetings of evangelical Christians there.

THE TRUSTEES

In 1971 therefore the realty of Tesson Chapel was conveyed into the hands of nine trustees - three of these were sons-in-law of Mr Philip Coutanche, one a son, two were grandsons and one a grandson-in-law.

Mr Philip G Le Moignan who had been connected with the chapel since 1908 and who had been an organist there for many decades was also appointed, as was Dr David Carnegie, who at the time was a senior lecturer at London Bible College.

The trustees - at present six in number - are the appointed overseers of the work of the chapel, which functions as a non-denominational independent evangelical fellowship with a statement of Christian doctrinal position clearly set out in the Trust Deed under which the property was transferred to them. Of the present six, two are married to great grand children of the original Philip Sorsoleil Langlois.

THE LAST THREE DECADES OF THE 1990s

During the past thirty years, the chapel has been blessed with the Christian ministry of many visiting preachers. Not least among these has been Dr David Carnegie (the Chairman of the trustees), along with Mr Walter Boxall, Mr Neville Brooks, Mr Geoffrey Powell, Mr Clarence Schofield, Mr Douglas Dron, Mr John de la Haye, Mr Walter Clarke, Mr Ron Brint, Advocate Ian Le Marquand, Mr Brian Vibert, Dr Douglas Begg, Mr Brian Clarke, Mr Peter Gallaher, Rev David Le Seelleur, Dr William Taylor and many others.

A feature of these years too has been the significant prayer and financial support shown by the fellowship at the chapel towards evangelical missionary organisations engaged in various ways in the proclamation of the Christian gospel at home and abroad.

In 1986 the fellowship appointed as Pastor the Revd Clifford M Measday, who, for over twenty-one years, had been the minister of the Jersey Baptist Church in Vauxhall, St. Helier. He and his wife Doreen provided the congregation with a much-valued settled preaching and caring ministry for over ten years — and continue to support the fellowship in every way.

In 1997 however, the congregation, on Revd Measday's formal retirement, welcomed Revd Nigel Houillebecq as part-time pastor. Mr Houillebecq had been a Baptist pastor in the United Kingdom and returned then to the Island — his native home — until his emigration with his family to Canada in 1999.

In 1989 the car park was extended into land owned and donated by Mrs Joan Bisson, a granddaughter of Mr Philip S Langlois. In addition, the over-covering of the brook running by the roadside of the park was completed. The contracting firm owned by one of the trustees — Mr Stephen Hotton -undertook the work at a cost in excess of £7000.

In 1994 Clifford Measday's professional skills as an Associate of the Royal Institute of British Architects came to the fore once again in his ministry and the fellowship embarked on a major building project under his guidance. The extension built in the 1930s was demolished and significant excavation of the rock face at the rear of the chapel cleared the space needed for a new large meeting room, kitchen, toilet, hall and other facilities. The building contracts were followed by refurbishment of the chapel itself and other external works to re-establish walls and boundaries. The main building contractor was H L Bertram & Co Ltd and the congregation met virtually all of the total cost, in excess of £65,000. Only an amount of just under £5,000 was provided from a small trust fund in the hands of the trustees.

The extension enabled the continuing Sunday school word to be undertaken, for the first time, during the time set aside for the Sunday morning services for the adult congregation.

Two meetings on a Sunday were held throughout these years— morning and evening - as well as a Wednesday evening time of prayer and Bible study.

In 1995, Mrs Doreen Measday started a fortnightly Thursday afternoon meeting for ladies and this proved to be very successful with well attended events being held in the new meeting room and Christians from a wide variety of occupations and backgrounds presenting different aspects of the Christian faith and gospel.

Many Christians during these years preached and had fellowship with the congregation at the chapel — and still do. They come from many different denominations — Baptist, Anglican, Methodist and others - reflecting the non-denominational Christian position of the chapel.

AN INVITATION

The present Trustees and the entire congregation extend to all an invitation to join them on the following occasions: [This has been updated to reflect current day services in 2026]

At the Chapel
Car Parking Opposite
Every Sunday at 10.30 am
Bibles provided

The apostle Paul in AD57 in a letter to the Christians in Corinth wrote: -

"What I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter and then to the twelve."

Guernsey in 1974 – Part 5

Guernsey in 1974 – Part 5

This is an extract from Peter Haining’s guide book of 1974, which is as much interest today for the historian as to the tourist, as many of the places and industries described in his book have long vanished. Please do not take it as a current guide.

Bays for bathing – Part 1

Havelet Bay: Havelet adjoins the harbour at St. Peter Port and has the nearest beach to the town—but this, unfortunately, is inaccessible at high tide. The main attraction, however, is the extensive La Vallette Swimming Pool which provides good bathing whatever the state of the tide along the coast. The pool—it is actually three separate pools— protrudes into the sea and this makes the setting doubly attractive. Water polo is also played here. Havelet Bay is ideal for water-skiing and this takes place daily throughout the season. It is also considered a good starting point for hikers along the south coast, and the best route begins at the south end of the bay by the Halfmoon Restaurant— where, incidentally, all manner of information about walking in Guernsey can be obtained. Also in the bay, and not far from La Vallette Swimming Pool, are two smaller pools which are open daily.

The "Halfmoon Restaurant": This no longer exists. The venue at the south end of the bay near the slipway is now home to the Octopus Restaurant (though travellers should note it is temporarily undergoing refurbishment). While Havelet Bay remains a popular destination for local sea swimmers, kayakers, and paddleboarders, daily scheduled water-skiing and regular water polo matches are no longer the primary active attractions advertised for the bay.

Soldier’s Bay: A secluded little nook, reached by a path from Havelet Bay, the shore is pebbly, but bathing in the deep, clear water is a joy to swimmer and non-swimmer alike. The rocks, which jut into the sea are excellent as diving points. ““Soldier’s Bay” earned its name because it was for generations used by the soldiers stationed at what was once Fort George on the cliff top. The fort was built in 1780, but it was not until the German Occupation that it was actually called upon to serve its purpose. However, the shelling which it received from British aircraft in 1944 was so heavy and so costly in human life that it was evacuated immediately afterwards.

"Bathing... is a joy to swimmer and non-swimmer alike": This is no longer true. Following severe coastal subsidence and highly unstable cliff faces above the cove, the States of Guernsey officially closed Soldier's Bay to the public via footpaths. Landslides and rockfalls make accessing it by foot illegal or physically barricaded.

"It was not until the German Occupation that it was actually called upon to serve its purpose": Historically false. Fort George served actively as a major British military hub for generations long before World War II. For instance, the Royal Guernsey Light Infantry trained heavily at the fort before deploying to the Western Front in 1917 during World War I.

The attacks in June 1944 were targeted Allied air raids specifically designed to destroy the sophisticated Adlerschloss German Luftwaffe radar early warning system built at the fort. The text claims the fort was "evacuated immediately afterwards" due to heavy losses. In reality, the Allied air raids before D-Day were largely ineffective against the heavily fortified structures, and German forces did not evacuate; they successfully held the fort and the rest of Guernsey until the official German surrender on Liberation Day, 9 May 1945.

As of 2026, even if approached by sea, there have been temporary water quality warnings in the bay due to a damaged deep-sea sewage outfall pipe originating from the modern residential development atop Fort George.

Fermain Bay: Undoubtedly one of the most popular bays on the island and always much frequented by families. A boat service runs between here and St. Peter Port which provides some splendid coastal views. There is a pebbly foreshore which gives way to white sand at half tide. The walk to the bay is long, but pleasant, winding through wooded countryside. The half-way mark is Le Chalet Hotel which was the first dwelling on Guernsey to have electric lighting at the beginning of this century. Then it was a private house belonging to a skilled mechanic who harnessed a dynamo to a stream which runs down the valley. Although the bay is now a haven for small boats, it was once considered the ideal place for a raiding party to land. In the 18th Century, for instance, a press gang landed at Fermain, crept inland and made off with several unwilling recruits. There are still one or two German fortifications visible including a white-washed sentry box which now serves as a ship marker and is generally called “The Pepper Pot’. The bay has its own restaurant and toilets, and floats can be hired. Bathing is safe except at high tide when the bank of pebbles make it unsafe for those not experienced. A final interesting point about Fermain is that in the early 1900’s the bay was segregated— women had to go at one end and men at the other. Needless to say this ruling is no longer enforced.

"A boat service runs between here and St. Peter Port": This is completely outdated. While a legendary water-taxi and boat service ran between the St. Peter Port harbour and Fermain Bay for decades, the regular service officially ceased in 1993 when its long-time operator retired. Today, the bay is only reachable by private vessel or on foot.  Commercial float and deckchair hire is no longer a standard daily fixture on the beach; visitors generally need to bring their own paddleboards or swim gear.

Le Chalet Hotel: The story regarding the skilled mechanic using a stream dynamo to create Guernsey's first electrically lit private home is a fascinating piece of local history, but Le Chalet Hotel is permanently closed and derelict. It closed its doors as a commercial hotel years ago, and recent developments have focused on converting the site into residential accommodation.

Petit Port: This bay can justifiably boast the finest stretch of sand on Guernsey and coupled with the magnificent cliff scenery and good bathing make it a popular spot (it is also possible to surf here). Unfortunately there is one snag which may deter older people from visiting the bay— there is a long, steep climb down into the bay with no fewer than 227 steps (I counted them) let into the cliff face. There is a secondary approach to the bay, but though gentler is very much longer and not without danger. Not far from the top of the cliff is Mont Durand where silver was discovered in the 19th Century and an attempt was made to mine it commercially. This was a disastrous failure and today there is little left to serve as a memorial to the project. It was at Petit Port on July 14, 1940, that 
a commando raid under the direction of LieutenantColonel Durnford Slater landed and scoured the area for information about the Occupation. Today the exploits are still discussed, and elaborated on, by the local people. The area also has some interesting rock formations including the circular mass of granite called “Cannon Rock”’.

"No fewer than 227 steps": Underestimated. The author's count is outdated. Due to modern cliff stabilization, path rebuilds, and repairs by the States of Guernsey, the official step count is over 270 steps (with some locals counting closer to 300 depending on where you start).

Secondary Approach Danger: The "gentler but dangerous" alternative path mentioned is completely closed off due to severe, ongoing coastal erosion and cliff landslides. The steps are now the only legal and physically viable way to access the beach by land.

"It is also possible to surf here": Highly misleading. Petit Port is an extremely sheltered, enclosed cove on the south-east corner of the island. It rarely gets a surfable wave breakdown. Guernsey's actual surf scene is explicitly located on the west coast at beaches like Vazon Bay.

Moulin Huet: Only those who enjoy a walk are advised to visit Moulin Huet which is approached by a narrow track which has to be taken in single file. It is not the best bathing beach, as there is only sand at low tide, but swimming— and diving—can be particularly good in the numerous gullies here. Getting to Moulin Huet involves walking — along Water Lane before actually joining the path to the sea. This is extremely pretty and half-way along it there is an old fountain called the ‘“Wishing Well”. If you seek good luck put your foot over the water and wish! There is a beach kiosk at Moulin Huet with chairs spread out on the cliff-side.

Single File Access Track: While the footpath gets narrow, it is wide enough for two people to pass comfortably in most sections, though oncoming foot traffic does have to step aside in the tighter, steeper bends

"Beach Kiosk... with chairs spread out on the cliff-side": Outdated. While a traditional, basic beach kiosk operated at the valley base for decades, the site has been completely transformed into the bohemian Renoir Tea Garden. Instead of just chairs scattered loosely on the cliff-side, there is a beautifully terraced, intimate garden café featuring modern outdoor seating booths and wooden decking overlooking the spectacular bay views.

Saints Bay: One more of Guernsey’s secluded coves which has a shingle beach (except at low tide when a little sand is exposed) and presents every facility for enjoyable bathing. Approached by a long winding lane, the bay has its own small pier which is used by local fishermen. This also serves as a diving stage and an ideal point for a man after a day’s fishing to settle down. Deck chairs and floats can be hired and there is a restaurant for soft drinks and snacks. In the past the bay has been a busy harbour, and in fact there is a stone monument commemorating this fact lying in the sea! Originally it stood by the harbour but as it got in the way of their gun sights, the Germans uprooted it and deposited it into the bay during the Occupation. Another point of interest is the well in La Ruette du Navet which is credited with having the power to cure eczema.

The Café/Restaurant: The text mentions a restaurant for soft drinks and snacks. Today, this is primarily known as the highly popular Saints Bay Kiosk located right at the top of the slipway. It serves homemade food, coffee, tea, and quick bites.

Hiring Deck Chairs/Floats: While standard in classic mid-20th-century tourist guides, current regular services emphasize kayak or equipment hire depending on the seasonal operators rather than traditional deckchair stands.

The 18th-century structure guarding the bay is officially known as Saints Tower No.14. Often mistakenly called a Martello tower, it is actually a distinct Guernsey Loophole Tower.

he tower was built between August 1778 and March 1779. At the outbreak of the American War of Independence, France joined forces with the Americans against Britain. Because the Channel Islands sit just off the French coast, they were in immediate danger of invasion.

In response, the British government constructed a chain of 15 identical loophole towers around Guernsey's coastline to act as a unified defensive shield

The Philosophy of Politics Jersey Discussions

I thought it might be useful to lay out some of the way in which I structured Politics Jersey Discussions on Facebook. 

Politics Jersey Discussions

It is designed as a heavily moderated discussion forum:

• Swearing and abusive language restricted.

• GIFs, emojis, and low-effort reaction posts discouraged.

• Links and photos require explanatory text.

• Anti-spam automation is active.

• Repeat offenders move onto post approval.

• Personal attacks on candidates are moderated.

• Measures against repetitive posting and agenda-spamming.

• Membership screening based on account age and existing Facebook activity.

• No anonymous membership, although anonymous posting is allowed.

The effect is usually:

• Slower discussions.

• Fewer meme wars and reaction-posts.

• Higher barrier to entry.

• More emphasis on written arguments and debate.

• Less trolling and fewer fake/new accounts.

Culture difference

In practice, groups often end up attracting different people because of their rules:

Politics Jersey Discussions	Politics Jersey
Structured debate	Open discussion
Higher moderation	Looser moderation
Longer text posts	More mixed content
Anti-spam focused	Higher volume
Quality over quantity	Quantity and activity over strict quality control
Harder for trolls to stay	Easier for anyone to participate

A useful way to think about it

Politics Jersey Discussions  tries to function more like a moderated civic forum or online town hall. 

Politics Jersey appears closer to the classic Facebook model: a large public square where discussion is broader, noisier, and less tightly controlled.

Whether one is "better" depends on what you want. If you're looking for detailed policy discussion and fewer distractions, the stricter rules can help. If you prefer a wider range of voices and more spontaneous debate, the larger group may feel more open.

Proofs and Refutations in Historical Jesus Research – Part 4

Proofs and Refutations in Historical Jesus Research – Part 4

When we map Imre Lakatos’s four strategies onto the high-stakes battlefield of Gospel scholarship, we can see exactly why NT scholars and historical-Jesus researchers rarely change their minds.

Because the text of the Gospels is ancient, complex, and open to interpretation, it provides the perfect raw material for academics to build a "Protective Belt" around their core theories.

In these posts, I will illustrate how historians deploy the four basic Lakatosian strategies to defend their views against troublesome textual data:

James DG Dunn

If N.T. Wright’s program is a hyper-insulated fortress and the ultra-literary camp (Walsh, Mills) is a rigid, degenerating program, James D.G. Dunn’s research program in “Jesus Remembered” is a textbook example of a highly progressive, methodologically honest Lakatosian model.

Dunn does things better because he didn’t just build a "protective belt" to defend against anomalies after the fact; instead, he designed his "Hard Core" from the very beginning to naturally expect and absorb messy data.

Here is how a Lakatosian critic would evaluate why Dunn’s approach works so beautifully:

The Genius of a "Flexible Hard Core"

Most historical-Jesus scholars choose a rigid, black-and-white "Hard Core" thesis:

• The Literalists/Conservatives: The Gospels are 100% historically exact video-recordings.
• The Radical Literary Critics: The Gospels are 100% elite, fictional desk-editor fabrications.

If your Hard Core is that absolute, any slight variation in the text becomes a lethal threat, forcing you into desperate special pleading.

Dunn broke this cycle by choosing a fluid, scientifically grounded Hard Core: The Gospels are the oral memory of the impact Jesus made on his disciples

By grounding his theory in how oral tradition actually works (rather than how modern books work), Dunn built a model where variation is not an anomaly but is a feature. He based this on current research into oral memory. 

When Matthew and Luke alter Mark's wording, or when the resurrection accounts don't perfectly align, a literalist has to sweat to harmonize it. But Dunn’s model naturally predicts this: in an oral culture, performers constantly adapt the details of a story to fit their audience while fiercely preserving the "gist" or the core truth. Dunn doesn't have to defend against textual messiness because his theory beautifully explains it.

A Truly "Progressive" Research Program

Lakatos argued that a research program is progressive if it has high "heuristic power"—meaning it elegantly explains a massive amount of diverse data without needing clumsy, ad-hoc adjustments.

Dunn’s model is hyper-progressive because it seamlessly solves puzzles that crush other scholars:

• The Aramaic Gems: Why does the Greek text randomly drop into Aramaic (Abba, Talitha koum)? The literary camp has to claim elite authors were "simulating robots." Dunn’s model elegantly notes that these are the literal, indelible linguistic footprints of the original oral impact left in the disciples' minds.

• The Continuity Puzzle: How did a simple Galilean preacher suddenly become the divine Lord of the early church? As we saw earlier, Dunn’s model shows that the "seed" was already there in the oral memory of Jesus's implicit authority. The shift was organic, not a fictional hijack.

What a Lakatosian Critic Would Challenge in Dunn

Even though Dunn does things vastly better, an honest Lakatosian critic would still point out where his "Protective Belt" has to do some heavy lifting. No scholar is totally immune to the mirror problem.

The critic would point to Dunn’s treatment of the "Q Source" (the identical, word-for-word Greek text shared by Matthew and Luke). As we noted earlier, oral memory can explain similar stories, but it cannot explain long strings of identical Greek vocabulary copied across scrolls.

When confronted with this, Dunn deployed exception-barring. He essentially said: "Yes, we must admit that written notebooks or a Greek document existed for these specific, lengthy blocks of text (like the Sermon on the Mount). But those are the exceptions. The vast, overwhelming matrix of the Gospel tradition remains purely oral."

A Lakatosian critic would warn Dunn: "Dr. Dunn, by cordoning off the written evidence as a 'special exception,' you are protecting your oral-impact thesis from being forced to admit that the Gospel writers were much more like literate desk editors than your folk-memory model comfortably allows."

Ultimately, Dunn’s research program is the most compelling because it requires the least amount of special pleading.

While Walsh and Mills have to treat the text like a hyper-intellectualized riddle from a university lounge, and Wright has to construct massive theological-metaphorical frameworks to protect his orthodox dogmas, Dunn simply lets the text be what it looks like: a vibrant, messy, living, oral portrait of a historical figure who made a monumental, shattering impact on the people who knew him. He didn't break the mirror completely, but he constructed one of the most honest lenses to look through.

Next Monday:  Dale Allison Jr.

Religion, History and G. R Balleine – Part 5

Religion, History and G. R Balleine – Part 5
(The Reformation in Jersey)
By Jason St John Nicolle
From "The Pilot", 1991

Part V (finale) The Dog that failed to Bark

AND SO Advocate Balleine rises to address the court.

“The defence has argued that the victory of Protestantism in 16th century Jersey was slow and by no means inevitable; and you will be wondering how the 'prosecution is going to respond to an argument which poses so direct a challenge to any concept of a Reformation 'from below.'

"The jury will doubtless be familiar with the series of detective stories written by a prominent Edwardian physician and Spiritualist, featuring a retired army doctor and a violin-playing drug-addict. One of their cases involved an attempt to lame a famous race horse, Silver Blaze. How was Holmes able to deduce that the villain was a certain John Straker? It was because he had "grasped the significance of the silence of the dog" — the dog who had failed to bark at a man quietly edging towards the stables in the middle of the night. Clearly, the mysterious visitor was someone whom the dog knew well. The great detective had realised that there can be as much significance in the things that don't happen, as in the things that do.

"We have already heard the defence's argument that it would be wrong to assume that Jerseymen were dissatisfied with Catholicism on the eve of the Reformation. But it admitted that the available evidence is simply too limited for us to be at all certain of the character and degree of their religious commitment. The evidence relates to external practices, such of the membership of religious clubs known as Confraternities and the endowment of anniversary masses; but such practices might reflect custom and social pressure as much as the deeply held beliefs of committed individuals. How many of those sitting in the pews on a Sunday morning have a deep attachment to the Anglican faith? What degree of commitment are we showing to the problems of the Third World, when-we send off a cheque to Oxfam?

"And when the defence argues that the victory of Protestantism was incomplete as late as the 1570's, are they doing anything more than pointing out that there were some Islanders who objected to the new faith? There will always be those who refuse to recognise a victory; but if these objectors had been a significant force in Island life, the very same anti-Catholic legislation which reveals their presence would itself have been so unworkable as never to have been worth promulgating in the first place.

"Again, what force is there in pointing out what might have happened if Elizabeth had had as short a reign as her half-sister Mary, when we .know that she did not die in the 1560's or 1570's; when we know that England's last Catholic ruler died in 1558? Why bother with what might have happened when we know what actually occurred?

"Or, more to the point, when we know what did not occur? In England, popular support for Catholicism dominated the grievances which found expression in three serious rebellions: the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536, a revolt in northern England partly precipitated by the Dissolution of the smaller monasteries: the Western Rebellion of 1549; and the Revolt of the Northern_ Earls twenty years later. But there were no such expressions of religious conservatism among the g-grievances which 16th century Jerseymen placed before their monarchs. Nor were any Jerseymen prepared to join the handful of English Catholics who trod the road to martyrdom. If the majority of Jerseymen were unhappy with the introduction of Protestantism, why did this discontent fail to find expression? As Holmes might have put it, why did the Catholic dogs fail to bark?

With this question, Advocate Balleine winds up the case for the prosecution; how will the defence respond?

“The prosecution has assumed a familiarity with the stories of Sherlock Holmes; the defence will also assume knowledge — knowledge of the ways of Man's Best Friend. Dogs bark for a good reason — they bark when they feel threatened. So when did Island Catholics start to fear that the new religion might supplant the old? Arguably, it was not until the 1560's. As late as 1562, enough Islanders were in possession of Catholic service books for the authorities to consider it necessary to order their destruction; and it is hard to see why they would have bothered unless Islanders were using these service books in acts of Catholic worship. When, four years later, permission was given for the establishment of a Presbyterian church in St Helier, the remaining Island parishes were told to 'diligently cast away all superstitions used in the said diocese (of Coutances)'. 'Superstitions' were the features of Catholic worship which did not meet with Protestant approval.

"But why was no voice raised against the confiscation of property given by the pious for religious, and specifically Catholic, purposes? It was hardly a novel departure: the Crown had been confiscating religious property in the Islands since the 14th century. More importantly, in the England of the 1530's, monasteries were numerous and their functions as much social as religious, providing employment, charity and a market for local goods Jersey was completely different. Here there was only one monastery, situated on the islet which was to become the site of Elizabeth Castle; more to the point it was in a sorry state, already in a largely derelict condition.

"But what about the sale of the wheat renter which formed the endowment for numerous anniversary masses? It is interesting that when the majority were sold off, in 1550-4551, the price set by the Commissioners was the equivalent of a mere six years purchase. It is hardly surprising that people were willing to take advantage of what was quite probably: the bargain of the decade. Most dogs can be silence, with a good bone; and for 16th century Jerseymen such bones came almost exclusively from the Crow or the Governor. From the appointment of Seymour 1537, the Governors were solidly Protestant, so was the context of patronage. In short, these Catholic dog failed to bark for a very good reason: it was not in their interests to do so. 99

And here the Advocates finally rest their cases; the Court of Jersey History rises, and the jury retires to consider its verdict A Reformation 'from below', as argued by Advocate Balleine Or a Reformation from above'? It is up to the jury to decide.

Gaza

This is not a poem about politics, except insofar as people are politics. So many are caught up in this conflict, a conflict not of their own making, but of their own suffering. I am not concerned here with the political excuses and blame games, but with mothers and children. The true cost of any war is not measured in political points, but in civilian displacement and trauma.

Gaza

My child is forgotten, one of many,
As we trek on, searching for any
Place for refuge, to call home;
Until then we simply roam
Dispossessed. The sky at night
Brightened by the shooting stars:
But these are the harbingers of Mars,
Not cosmic, but man-made,
As rockets come and many slayed;
I will fear the terror by night,
Breaking open in explosive light,
As we cower, and pray for life,
To just survive within this strife;
Rubble of fallen buildings all around:
Aftermath: cries of the wounded sound;
It was another day, and it was bad:
I weep for my children, I am sad,
That no one sees our plight,
And day brings no respite.