Random Thoughts on Everything

"The greatest team the world has ever seen"

In keeping with the tinselled left-overs of 2024’s Christmas spirit, let’s talk about Jesus.

Not Yeshua ben Yossef … better known in modern times as the biblical character Jesus Christ. No, let’s discuss the footballer Gabriel Jesus, Arsenal football club’s freshly worshiped number 9. Perhaps spurred on by rumours that his club may hold a January fire sale, the forward has been born again. Suddenly in miraculous form, he is scoring goal after goal following a lengthy exclusion and drought. Prompted into a grateful response, Arsenal fans once again sing his praise.

“They say he walks on water, and turns it into wine, oh I believe in Jesus, the Arsenal number nine.”

Many (other than Spurs fans) hope the talent of Jesus will outlive the twelve days of Christmas. As Highbury belt out the hymn North London Forever, the Bishop of Birmingham (goalkeeper on team God) ignited controversy in the Midlands. He sent an email suggesting that church congregations may not fully understand the meaning of their squad’s more popular hymns. Apparently they might think these words (many written in the 1800s) describe a “current conflict” rather than a divine one. His particular concern seems to be, surprise, surprise, the mention of Israel. Very tricky to avoid … it being the birthplace of the biblical Jesus, scene of the nativity etc, etc.

Whilst healthy rivalry is sung out weekly on the football terraces, priests with dwindling congregations are being told they must provide “context” and make diverse communities “feel welcome.” Never having heard of it, I had to look up supersessionism, a word used by Church officials in guidance to their clergy. Apparently it’s the belief that Judaism has been supplanted by Christianity and Jewish people replaced as God’s chosen. Well, heaven forfend!

Priests were told, “some of the language used in liturgy, hymns and readings could easily cause confusion.” Not sure to whom, but I’m glad that’s now as clear to me as the off-side rule. In my formative years I thanked un-woke composers (and my parents) who exempted me from the religious exaltation of school assembly. Lazing about in a spare classroom my mental health never felt at risk. Nowadays I can’t help wondering how long it will be until everyone’s choral favourite, Jerusalem, gets re-booted as a more inclusive Milton Keynes.

Still in the holiday spirit, I say hip hip hooray for an unnamed vicar … probably shivering with anxiety in his novelty sweater and elf hat … who said the Church had “really lost the plot.”

Back in North London, Arsenal supporters seeking silverware, pray Jesus and his talent won’t falter into a deep sleep. His worshipers haven’t the patience to wait for a short-lived Easter resurrection. And call me superstitious, but let’s hope Gabriel Jesus won’t be coming up against the Egyptian defender Mo Hashem this season. Mo is a player of only average ability, but I fear the on-field clash of holy father versus holy son. Best we avoid a grudge match with apocalyptic potential.

In 2023/24 I was lucky to be chosen as one of the Genesis Foundation’s ten emerging writers. My debut novel is called The House in Mile End: romantic betrayal, Jewish East End gangsters and a mystifying legacy are woven together by a box of love letters from the 1920s. All I want for Chanukah is an agent.