"And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works." Revelation 20:1
About this time last year, Kaddifeto aka My Free Range Satanist and I participated in Keep Britain Tidy's campaign The Big Spring Clean Up. Armed with pick-up sticks and plastic bags we did two raids on London’s rubbish. One around Hampstead Heath - about the kiosque and the Dog Lake and inbetween. This upon Kaddifeto's command, as the Heath is his favourite park in London. And a Second one along the River Walk, as it was my favourite local walk - after and despite our clean up it stopped being it. I simply couldn't restore the innocence of my perception of the area after picking all its specific litter.
Since last year this time, all I have done ecowise was: Personally - buy a mechanic scooter and use it as a main means of transport for all distances reachable in an hour. As a household - we started collecting separately biodegradable waste. With the closest brown bin in our hood being at five minutes walking distance - "walking to the brown bin" was a good outing excuse during Lockdown.
Comprehensively absorbed by the COVID situation during the last few months in general; and by the philosophico-religious dylema which I can roughly formulate like "If we hand up to Government the decisions, and the resulting responsibility, for our families during pandemic, then who appears for judgment at Judgment Day? The father alone, if the mother has taken an oath to obey - of say the thirteen year old child that died alone in PICU mentioned by a listener on Radio4 - or the Cabinet? Is it the whole Cabinet that answers at Judgment Day or is it just the PM? Or is the Queen, who is after all responsible for all her subjects? And what if the couple is atheist, or a Contemporary Christian, who at marriage hasn't given the oath to obey? Or an unmarried couple? Is the woman still excluded from Judgment?
This philosophico-religious question becomes even more painstaking when the aesthetic-artistic dimension is added to it. Try to imagine it as a painting. Say if we took Frederic Leighton's painting 'And the Sea Gave Up the Dead Which Were In It (1877–92)', which now I imagine living in semi-darkness in its usual place in Tate Britain, and replaced the man - carrying his wife under one shoulder and his child under his other shoulder resurrecting to be Judged - with Borris Johnson .... Yes, it becomes very funny, with all his wives and children... but now also if we had to stick under his arms all the COVID-regullation-following men with their wives and children.... mort de rire ... we should give him at least a few hundred additional arms until he becomes some sort of monsterous centipede. The same mental exercise with the Queen is somewhat less fun, more ominous.
Frederic Leighton's painting focalises my main problem with Christianity... I would rather have it the Egyptian Way - my heart waighted against Maat's Feather.... For what sort of appearns is this for Universe's singular Big Day - under somebody's smelly arm? And then what if the arm is overcrowded, like Borris', and I got dropped midway?