Essays















Imitating Christ

A thought repeats on me these days, and to express it makes me feel damned and condemned. It is this thought: that Christianity has been dying in England because they all think that they have to act like Jesus. For my part, I have never put this question to myself: ‘How can I be like Jesus today?’ Even when I have imagined that I was the Son of God, I never asked that.

Christ was unique, and I am unique; we should avoid copying each other. Besides, Christ was also God, so my imitating him is absurd; so much so that I never once in my life considered the question: ‘What would Christ do if he were me?’ to be relevant or interesting in the least.

But I hedge this around with the admission, that I have been too much in the world, too much a sinner, to think it appropriate to even rise anywhere near to that presumption. What? How should I, who have done what I have done, and things I will never tell anyone about, which were not just isolated events or mistakes, but which were part of the continuum of my life as a whole, think that I could forget all of that, and just start being ‘like Jesus’?

No way. And so I am maybe a special case. Because it seems more and more to me that our post-Christian commonwealth, our England, is peopled by many people, high and low, religious and not religious, in every walk of life, who think like this:

‘I’m not religious; I don’t go to church; I don’t believe in God; but, I consider myself a good person; and I try to be like Jesus (which is more than can be said for many so called ‘religious people’ in my view).’ Such an attitude is the devil…

I realise sometimes that I am nderstood as an illness of my homeland, because this place and the state, and the rest of them, have taken on the white robes of Jesus. So that social workers , functionaries of tax gathering, police, University people, and the whole lot of the socialist apparatus, inspired by the ideal of copying their Jesus, find nothing in me which needs to be cured healed or raised from the dead. As if I were the disease itself. That is how things seem to go.



Design Jason Powell, 2020.

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