Is the Pope Lawrentian (or Merely a Heretic)?

Pope Francis wearing a large 

D. H. Lawrence pendant necklace

 

D. H. Lawrence famously declared that there was no real battle between himself and the Catholic Church because, when it came to the religious fundamentals, he was in close accord. Thus, for example, he believes in a single almighty God, in esoteric doctrine, and in the power of a priest who has been initiated into the latter to grant absolution [1].    

 

Having said that, Lawrence also believes that whilst Jesus is undoubtedly a Son of God, he is not, however, the only Son of God - and this, actually, does put him in in direct conflict with the central Christian teaching that acceptance of Christ is the sole means of salvation and knowing God. For as Jesus himself said (according to the Gospel of John):

 

I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me [2].

 

Or at least, this used to be the central teaching - but no longer for Pope Francis, it seems ... For yesterday, the Bishop of Rome concluded his three-day visit to Singapore by declaring that All religions are a path to God [3].

 

Such pluralism makes one wonder whether the Pope is actually a Lawrentian: for like Lawrence, he seems to believe that there are many saviours (with others still to come), so that "the great Church of the future" will recognise that men "are saved variously, in various lands, in various climes, in various centuries" [4]. 

 

I'm not a Catholic, but, if I were, I'd find this pretty outrageous; for here is the visible head of the Church not only calling for interfaith dialogue but essentially saying that not even Jesus can declare himself to be the way for all men and that - to paraphrase Lawrence - it is disastrous for any religion to assert itself above all others. 

 

That's heresy, is it not? 

 

Of course, the present Pope has a record for this kind of thing; even lending his support in 2019 to the placing of a South American pagan idol inside a church in Rome [5], and so I suppose nothing should surprise us. 

 

As I'm not a Catholic or a Christian of any other kind, however, this isn't really a great concern to me. Indeed, as a reader of Lawrence, I'm inclined to agree with Ramón, that every people should "'substantiate their own mysteries'" [6] and "'speak with the tongues of their own blood'" [7].

     

 

Notes

 

[1] See D. H. Lawrence, 'There is no real battle ...', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), Appendix I: Fragmentary writings, p. 385.

 

[2] John 14:6 (KJV). 

 

[3]  The Pope was quoted in the article 'All faiths lead to God: New controversy as Pope preaches religious pluralism on final day of tour', in The Catholic Herald (13 September 13, 2024): click here. 

[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'There is no real battle ...', Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, p. 385.

 

[5] See the post entitled 'On the Desecration of Altars and the Return of Strange Idols' (25 October 2019): click here.  

[6] D. H. Lawrence, The Plumed Serpent, ed. L. D. Clark (Cambridge University Press, 1987), p. 427.

[7] Ibid., p. 248.

 

 

Deadnaming (With Reference to the Case of Mara in the Book of Ruth)

Don't Deadname (after William Blake) 

Stephen Alexander (2024) [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Perhaps because I have myself used and been known by several aliases, I'm somewhat sympathetic to those (often transgender or non-binary) individuals who object to what is termed deadnaming ...

 

That is to say, the sometimes unintentional, sometimes deliberate act of referring to a person by a name they no longer identify with or wish to be called, even if that name is the one that appears on their birth certificate and other official documentation and is deemed to be not only their legal name, but their real name referring to their true self (an assumed alias is invariably seen as suspicious; an attempt to conceal or deceive). 

 

Although the verb deadnaming is of recent origin - the OED dates it to 2013 - the insistence by others on calling an individual by an old name is not without historical - and indeed biblical - precedent ...

 

 

II. 

 

Readers with knowledge of the Old Testament will be familiar with the Book of Ruth and the story of how Naomi, having been forced by circumstances to leave Bethlehem and live in the land of Moab, has the tragic misfortune of losing her husband and both sons. 

 

Grief-stricken and near destitute, she decides to return to her homeland and is accompanied by her daughter-in-law, Ruth, at the latter's insistence; the Book of Ruth essentially describing the struggles of the two women to survive in a patriarchal society and in the face of much hardship. 

Of most interest to me, however, is the fact that when Naomi returns and is greeted by those who remember her, she tells them: "Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me".

 

Obviously, she refers at one level to the fact that God has left her bereft and in poverty. But her remark also indictes that the bitterness she is experiencing is so profound that it is transitional if not indeed transformational: she no longer feels herself to be the same woman upon her return to Bethlehem as the woman who left ten years earlier. 

 

If this is for the most part a psychological change, we can probably assume that she has also been physically aged by time and sorrow. Thus, it's perfectly understandable, I think, that she would wish to be known by a new name; a name more indicative of the woman she now recognises herself to be; i.e., one born of and shaped by bitterness. 

 

For whereas her old name, Naomi, means sweet-natured and pleasant of disposition, her new self-chosen name of Mara means bitter (although it might be noted that this name in Hebrew also implies strength; for just as hatred can itself become creative, so too can bitterness harden and make stronger).

 

The point is this: we all, like Mara, have the right to become-other and not to be deadnamed by those who value fixity over fluidity and would forever tie us to the past.   

 

 

Notes

[1] This image is based on Blake's print 'Naomi entreating Ruth and Orpah to return to the land of Moab' (1795), full details of which can be found on the V&A website: click here.  

On the Daughters of God

Portrait of Tammi of Nazareth

the onion.com

 

"And I sayeth unto thee: Look upon mine eyes, which rest within mine head; 

not upon mine bosom, wherein no wisdom dwells."

 

 

I. Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace

 

A friend of mine, who happens to be a specialist in medieval religious art and literature, recently gave birth to her third daughter and joked: 'I just need one more and God's people can be restored!' I sort of smiled at this, but, at the time, had no idea what on earth she meant by this.

 

However, after thinking about it - and doing a bit of biblical research - I realised that she was referring to Psalm 85 - and the so-called Four Daughters of God who loved nothing better than meeting up and exchanging kisses [1].

 

Of course, these four daughters were allegorical; they personified the virtues of Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace and their uniting in Love signified the triumph of God and the fact that mankind was forgiven its sins and redeemed by the sacrifice of Christ. 

 

Attempts to pornify the motif - which was extremely popular in medieval Europe - by imagining scenes of incestuous lesbianism, are uncalled for, as the kisses were given in innocence [2]. At any rate, most people had become thoroughly bored with the idea by the end of the 17th-century, though some, like William Blake, remained fascinated by the Four Daughters. 

    

II. Tammi of Nazareth

  

In September 2010, The Onion published a piece under the headline 'New Evidence Suggests God Also Had Incredibly Busty Daughter' [3], according to which:

 

"In a discovery that biblical scholars say could alter our most fundamental understanding of Christianity, recently unearthed manuscripts suggest that in addition to His Son, Jesus Christ, God also had a daughter with absolutely humongous breasts." 

The article goes on:

"The documents, found in a cave near the Jordanian-Israeli border and estimated to have been composed circa A.D. 200, recount the life, teachings, and death of Jesus' well-endowed twin sister, Tammi of Nazareth."

And it continues in much the same comic-blasphemous (breast-obsessed) vein throughout. 

 

It's juvenile, certainly, but it is also amusing to read that whilst Tammi "promulgated similar ideas as her sibling, and appeared to possess the same miraculous powers", she found it difficult to preach the gospel as followers were only interested in gaining "a better vantage point from which to observe her 'heavenly radiance'" hidden beneath a thin linen vestment. 

 

 

III. Jane

 

Funny enough, Larry David anticipated this idea of a comely daughter born of God in a season 5 episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, first broadcast in October 2005 ... [4]

 

In a now classic scene, Larry's Christian father-in-law (played by Paul Dooley) has purchased a nail used in the movie The Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson, 2004) - not a film that Larry much cares for, wishes to watch, or discuss. And so he quickly changes the subject and takes the conversation in an irreverent (some might say sacrilegious) direction:

 

Larry David: 'You're nuts about this Jesus guy, aren't you?'

 

Cheryl's Father: 'Yeah. Well, I have a personal relationship with Christ.'

 

Larry David: 'Really? See, I could see worshipping Jesus if he were a girl, like if God had a daughter ... Jane. I'll worship a Jane. But, you know, to worship a guy ... like a little kinda, you know, it's a little gay, isn't it?'

 

Although his wife, Cheryl, attempts to shut him up at this point, Larry is determined to expand upon the idea:

 

Larry David: 'I would worship Jane, if he had a daughter Jane, I could have a relationship with a Jane.'

 

Cheryl's Father: [Increasingly annoyed and irritated] 'He didn't have a daughter!'

 

Larry David: 'It's a shame it wasn't a girl. That's all I have to say.'

 

Cheryl's Father: [Disgusted] 'Ugh!'

 

Larry David: 'Good looking woman ... Zaftig ... Good sense of humor ...'

 

Cheryl David: [Exasperated] 'Okay, that's fine.'

 

Larry David: 'If he had a daughter, everybody - everybody - would worship Jane. That's all I'm saying.'

It's an interesting point, as Jules would say. 

 

And I think Larry is on to something: we don't need a pale and sickly looking Jesus with his crown of thorns - or even a weeping Virgin - for our saviour; we need a voluptuous woman who knows how to laugh (and make laugh) - more Marilyn than Mary [5].          

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See Psalm 85:10 (KJV): "Mercy and Truth are met together; Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other." 

      This psalm is a community lament, probably written during the period of Israel's return from Babylonian exile. The people seek forgiveness from God for their unfaithfulness and restoration of their former status and power. The closing section expresses confidence that salvation will come.

 

[2] The Hebrew word for kiss in Psalm 85 doesn't refer to an erotic act per se, but, rather, to something exchanged by near relatives when greeting one another. In medieval Europe, where the visual motif of Justice and Peace kissing was first introduced, such an act was even more widespread than in the ancient Jewish world. However, because (male) artists have a penchant for nude (female) figures, renditions of Justice and Peace kissing were often (inappropriately) sexualised.

 

[3] 'New Evidence Suggests God Also Had Incredibly Busty Daughter', The Onion, (23 September, 2010): click here to read online. 

 

[4] Curb Your Enthusiasm, S5/E3, 'The Christ Nail' (2005), dir. Robert B. Weide, written by Larry David. Click here to watch the scene on YouTube.

 

[5] Thanks to the season 5 finale of Curb, we know that not only does Larry look forward to meeting Monroe in heaven, but that the latter is also a big fan of Seinfeld. See 'The End', S5/E10, dir. Larry Charles, written by Larry David, (2005). Marilyn is played in the episode by Susan Griffiths. 

 

When the Cat Lies Down With the Rat

And they shall make a covenant of peace ...

 

I. 

 

Last night, I had a horrible dream: my cat was lying in the garden on a bright frosty morning, much like this morning, and from under her body I could see a long, hairless tail poking out. Upon investigation, I discovered that a large rat had snuggled beneath her in order to keep warm. 

 

Although aware of the rodent's presence, my cat - normally a serial rat-killer - remained unconcerned. Indeed, she seemed content to rest in harmony with her fellow creature and fulfil Isiah's messianic prophecy [11:6] of a time to come, when there will be universal peace and love and the wolf shall dwell with the lamb; the leopard lie down with the kid, etc. 

 

 

II. 

 

Now, whilst there are many who share this vision, I remain with D. H. Lawrence on this and regard it as an expression of moral nihilism, in as much as it involves the negation not merely of otherness and opposition, but of existence as founded upon these principles of antagonism and one form of life eternally devouring another (for it's death that makes the world go round).  

 

In 'The Reality of Peace', Lawrence writes: 

 

"Shall I expect the lion to lie down with the lamb? Shall I expect such a thing? I might as well hope for the earth to cast no shadow, or for burning fire to give no heat. [...] When the lion lies down with the lamb he is no lion, and the lamb, lying down with him, is no lamb. They are merely a neutralisation, a nothingness. If I mix fire and water, I get quenched ash. And so if I mix the lion and the lamb. They are both quenched into nothingness." [1]   

 

He continues:

 

"The lion will never lie down with the lamb; in all reverence let it be spoken. Whilst the lion is lion, he must fall on the lamb, to devour her. This is his lionhood and his peace, in so far as he has any peace. And the peace of the lamb is to be devourable. 

      Where, then, is there peace? There is no peace of reconciliation. Let that be accepted for ever." [2]   

 

Concluding on a thanatological note: 

 

"It is peace for the lion when when he carries the crushed lamb in his jaws. It is peace for the lamb when she quivers light and irresponsible within the strong, supporting apprehension of the lion. Where is the skipping joyfulness of the lamb when the magnificent, strong responsibility of the lion is removed? The lamb need take no thought; the lion is responsible for death in her world." [3]

 

Of course, some critics have sneeringly suggested that this is not how an articulate lamb might put it [4]. 

 

But then, as Nietzsche points out in the Genealogy [1:13], whilst there is nothing strange about lambs harbouring resentment towards those beasts and large birds of prey that carry them off, that's no reason for us to come over all sheepish and blame the predators for being true to their nature, or to describe that nature in moral terms as evil [5].

  

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Reality of Peace', in Refections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 49.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid., p. 50. 

[4] See, for example, Michael Black who discusses these passages from 'The Reality of Peace' in D. H. Lawrence: The Early Philosophical Works, (Cambridge University Press, 1992), pp. 439-441.         

      Black argues that whilst it is "one thing to contemplate predation as a fact of nature; it is another to elevate it to a mystic principle which turns immolation into a vocation." [440] It is precisely such mystification - which Lawrence often eroticises in a manner that reinforces gender stereotypes - that introduces deeply troubling elements in Lawrence's later work to do with sexual politics and human sacrifice.   

[5] Nietzsche goes on to point out that it is as absurd to expect the powerful not to delight in their strength, as it is for the weak to construe their impotence as a form of freedom and their self-restraint as a moral accomplishment, when they simply lack claws. See On the Genealogy of Morality, first essay, §13. 

 

 

For a related post to this one, click here.

      

Revenge of the Macaques

Image: Suresh Jadhav for News18

 

That man and monkey be redeemed from the spirit of revenge - 

that for me is the bridge to our highest hope ... [1]

 

 

Well, it's clear now from recent news reports coming out of India that our simian friends are not Christian and do not believe in turning the other cheek [1], nor leaving vengeance in the paws of their god [2] ...

After a pack of dogs killed an infant macaque, an enraged troop of rhesus monkeys have launched a merciless month-long campaign of revenge, grabbing around 250 puppies off the streets and then throwing them to their death from atop buildings and trees.  

According to some reports, when the troop can no longer find any young canines, they begin chasing terrified schoolchildren and one unfortunate eight-year-old had to be physically rescued from their clutches. Other villagers have apparently been injured attempting to protect their pooches.

 

Thankfully, such organised primate attacks on other species are rare, although not unknown. And it certainly isn't the case that they are the only animals other than man who seek revenge; camels, elephants, lions, crows, are all known to enjoy getting their own back. 

 

Indeed, even some fish have been known to engage in what Francis Bacon (disapprovingly) termed wild justice ...   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm paraphrasing Nietzsche writing in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, II. 7 - 'On the Tarantulas'.

 

[2] Matthew 5:38-39 - "Ye have heard that it hath been said, 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth'. But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil; but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also."

[3] Romans 12:19 - "Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay', saith the Lord."

The Curse of Ham (Reflections on Genesis 9:20-27)

I.

I've said it before and I'll doubtless say it again; from Genesis to Revelation, the Bible is a profoundly queer book, full of perverse and puzzling incidents and some deeply unpleasant characters. Take, for example, this tale of Noah and his son Ham: 

And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard:
And he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent.
And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without.
And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness.
And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him.
And he said, Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren.
And he said, Blessed be the Lord God of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant.
God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant.

- Genesis 9:20-27 (King James Version)

The precise nature of Ham's transgression - and the reason why his father Noah reacted as he did - is something that has been discussed within theological circles for millennia. Everything hinges on the interpretation of line 22: And Ham saw the nakedness of his father ...

Should it be taken literally, or is it a euphemism for an act of gross immorality? And if the latter - and most biblical scholars are convinced it is the latter - what exactly did Ham do?   

II.

As indicated, the majority of commentators, both ancient and modern, have felt that voyeurism isn't the issue here; that Ham's spying on his father as the latter lay drunk and naked, isn't sufficient to explain the punishment that follows - even if it would undoubtedly be a cause of embarrassment and shame for Noah and even if his son compounded matters by laughing about his father's predicament with his brothers.

Having said that, in some cultures staring at (and mocking) another man's cock is a very big deal indeed and Noah may have felt mortally offended and betrayed by his son's actions. Also, it's worth noting that Shem and Japeth move quickly to cover their father's nakedness and keep their faces averted at all times in order not to take even a sneaky peek, so clearly there's an issue here. 

Still, let's assume like the authors of the Talmud that something a bit more serious transpired here; that seeing someone's nakedness has a sexual connotation; that Ham sodomised his father - and then possibly castrated him for good measure, rejoicing and laughing as he did so. If that's true, then no wonder Noah was outraged and cursed his son - or more accurately, his son's son, Canaan (which is a bit unfair, but God himself sanctions such behaviour and Philo of Alexandria suggests that Ham and Canaan were equally guilty of sinful behaviour, thereby dishonouring the old man). 

III.

Finally, I think it's significant that Noah had planted a vineyard and produced wine; a magical fluid that is nearly always connected with sexual behaviour in the Bible.

As Bergsma and Hahn point out, "the only other reference to drunkenness in Genesis also occurs in the context of parent-child incest: Gen 19:30-38, the account of Lot's intercourse with his daughters" - another wtf incident that I've written about here on Torpedo the Ark.

See: John Sietze Bergsma and Scott Walker Hahn, 'Noah's Nakedness and the Curse on Canaan (Genesis 9:20-27)', Journal of Biblical Literature, Vol. 124, No. 1 (Spring, 2005), pp. 25-40. Line quoted is on p. 30. 

Bergsma and Hahn give an oedipalised reinterpretation of this story, arguing that Ham's crime was one of maternal incest, not paternal rape; that he entered his father's tent, saw him naked and unable to perform his duty as a husband due to his drunkenness, and so engages in relations with his mother in an attempt to undermine (or usurp) his father's authority. It's an interesting reading, but not one I'm convinced by, even if it does provide a stronger motive for Ham's actions.    

On Opening Heaven and Hell: A Boxing Day Post Dedicated to a Secular Saint, by Símón Solomon

You pays your money and you takes your choice ...

I.

While it's probably safe to say that the philosopher Stephen Alexander is not en route to canonisation any time soon, the presiding presence of Torpedo the Ark may forgive me for divulging to his readers that he once indirectly referred to himself as Harold Hill's first secular saint.

Thus, on this day of all days, we wanted to pay our own deconsecrated tribute from across the Irish Sea to this prodigiously stylish, provocative and gifted writer, from whom - despite the prevailing disembodiment of the friendship in recent years - we continue to take much fractious inspiration and sometimes antagonistic pleasure, and to whose deliciously idiosyncratic platform we are delighted to be able to contribute as Gastautor and commentator on a (semi-)regular basis.

Stephen, though your name may never be dedicated to divinity (or even up in the lights we often feel you deserve), we hope that the pious vessel in your sights will be repeatedly holed but not wholly blown out of the water, lest TtA one day exhaust its irreverent purpose ...


II.

Though much of the detail of his namesake's biography is overlaid by theological propaganda, our main Biblical source for the historical St. Stephen, viz., the Acts of the Apostles, places him as a notable Hellenistic Jew tasked in his role as archdeacon with a fairer distribution of welfare to Greek-speaking widows. At the same time, with his practised penchant for signs and wonders, he was also said to have excelled in the rather attention-seeking art of enacting miracles, which quickly aroused the interest of the Synagogue of the Libertines, the Cyrenians and the Alexandrinians.

Clearly, there was only one way such subversive street theatre was going to end ...

As is the case with any saint worth his or her (pillar of) salt, the manner of Stephen's death infinitely transcends the significance of his foreshortened life. Accordingly, and in the traditional fashion, although it appears that he may just have missed out on early membership of the 27 Club, his timeless demise, as protomartyr of at least six denominations of the Christian church, was not lacking in gruesome glamour. 

Following blasphemy charges trumped up by the usual suspects, in which he stood accused of crimes against God, Moses and, more importantly, the Sanhedrin Assembly, Stephen's knockdown reminder while on trial that the chosen people had crucified the Son of God and less than life-preserving echoes of Christ's prophecies concerning the destruction of the Second Temple hardly screamed of an overwhelming desire to keep body and soul together.

Despite, or perhaps because of, his self-evident impatience to meet his Maker, however, Stephen himself was reportedly equanimous before his judges, with one report likening his countenance to that of an angel. Sentenced to the Biblical cliché of death by stoning, he faced the rock-wielding mob with prayers for his murderers and a divine vision to boot, rapturously declaring (in what was presumably not a piece of holy misdirection to facilitate a cunning escape) that he had 'seen heaven open and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God!'

In Christian iconography, the St. Stephen is frequently depicted for obvious reasons with three stones, while holding a palm frond (signifying victory over the flesh) and a copy of the Gospels. Those to whom his patronage now extends comprise a hilarious miscellany that includes deacons, bricklayers, stonemasons, casket makers, people with headaches, and ... horses!


III.

In Ireland, St. Stephen's Day has also been known as Day of the Wren [Lá an Dreoilín]. In what appears to have been a ritual of atonement, groups of wren boys with painted faces would hunt and stone a wren to death, then tie the birds corpse to a holly stick and parade it through the streets, while a nominated hunter collected coins. Among numerous variants of the Wren Boys’ song, alluding to this act of ornithological regicide, one runs:

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, 
On Saint Stephen's Day was caught in the furze, 
Although he is little, his family is great. 
I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat.

In its Celtic lineage, the associated myth derived from a Samhain sacrifice, in which the wren was connected with midwinter song and the dying year, and may also have been entangled with Druidic rituals. The Welsh warrior and magician Lleu Llaw Gyffes reputedly gained his (etymologically contested) name by killing a wren. On the Isle of Man, meanwhile, the hunted wren is an avatar of the shapeshifting queen of the fairies, Tehi Tegi, who was said to have drowned her suitors in the river and then turned herself into one to evade capture.

Among both the Norse and Christian traditions, the wren's association with treachery is likewise strikingly emphasised, in which one highly poetic legend conveys that, during the 8th-century Viking raids, as a troop of Irish soldiers entered an enemy camp under cover of darkness, the micropercussion of a wren nibbling breadcrumbs on a drum woke the sleeping warriors, leading to the invaders' rout.

In the case of St. Stephen, the story runs that, while attempting to conceal himself on the cusp of death - for it seems even martyrs, like Bee Gees, are not after all wholly indifferent to staying alive - his hiding place was revealed by a chattering wren.

For us, the way such symbolic narratives sew betrayal into the tapestry of these archetypal matrices of love and war, of soul and death, provides a kind of cold comfort at this chilly time of year, restoring the psyche to its sacrificial self-exposures, demanding our hunger for transcendence dance with deception, and darkening our enthusiasms.

The ecstasy of St. Stephen reminds us, whether we find our faith in God’s death or eternal life, of the art of dying as a summons to visionary existence. We know St. Stephen of Harold Hill is enduring his own considerable sacrifices now and we wish him every strength of spirit for the year to come, as well as much power to his writing elbow.

Author's Notes

For an Irish perspective on St. Stephen, see Rosita Boland's article in The Irish Times entitled 'A martyr whose day is set in stone', (24 Dec 2010): click here.

For further Biblical background, see the entry on St. Stephen in the New Advent Catholic Encyclopedia: click here.

And on the Irish Day of the Wren, see Rose Eveleth's article in The Smithsonian Magazine, entitled 'The Irish Used to Celebrate the Day After Christmas by Killing Wrens' (26 Dec 2012): click here.    

Finally, readers will doubtless recall Stephen Alexander's own controversial post on this topic published on Torpedo the Ark (26 Dec 2013), entitled It's My Name Day (And I'll Decry If I Want To). 


Editor's Notes

Simon Solomon is a poet, translator, critic and tutor. He is a professional member of the Irish Writers Centre, Dublin and serves as a managing editor with the academic journal Psychoanalysis, Culture and Society. He blogs at (and can be contacted via) simonsolomon.ink

Simon appears here as part of the Torpedo the Ark Gastautoren Programm.