The Archbishop of Canterbury claimed to believe this demand would solve the matter.<\/p>\n
He admitted the communique would “certainly fall very short of resolving all the disputes”, but said it would “provide a way of moving forward with dignity”. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Well, obviously, he means solving it\/moving forward with dignity in the same way that I “solve” most of my problems – putting them off till a future date that will obviously never come….. 30 September, which is all of, oh, 29 days away now, by my reckoning.<\/p>\n
I think the Archbishop of Canterbury may therefore possibly share my taste for my favourite religious parable as a guide for life. This is taken from my distant memory of reading the Idries Shah retelling of the Tales of Mullah Nasruddin. Nasruddin is a sort of Muslim trickster figure.<\/p>\n
The Shah is impressed with Nasruddin’s magical capacities. He asks Nasruddin to teach his favourite horse to fly. Nasruddin promises to do that and says he’ll take the horse, teach him to fly and will come back in a year. <\/p>\n
His friend says “Are you mad to agree to this? He’ll put you to death when he finds out you’ve tricked him.”<\/p>\n
Nasruddin says “But it’s a year away. In that time, anything could happen. The Shah might die. Or I might die. Or the horse might die..”<\/p>\n
The Archbishop obviously thought this anti-gay clergy horse would die between 20 February and 30 September. But instead, it’s racing (yes, I am dragging a lame metaphor to death) around the planet looking for other bigots.<\/p>\n
*****************************************
\nTotally unconnected aside.<\/p>\n
My other favourite Mullah Nasruddin story. (I’m going to have to elaborate some details here. It’s years since I’ve read this.)<\/p>\n
Every day or so Nasruddin crosses the border between two countries. He’s leading a donkey that carries two panniers. <\/p>\n
The customs guards know he’s up to something illicit. Every time he passes, the customs men take off the bags and pull the straw to bits, searching for whatever contraband he’s smuggling. Nasruddin always stands there looking smug. They have to let him go.<\/p>\n
One day, after he’s crossed the border, he tells the customs guards that they won’t be seeing him any more because he’s made his money and is retiring from smuggling.<\/p>\n
One guard begs Nasruddin to tell him what he managed to get through the border and how he’s managed to get the better of them every time.<\/p>\n
“Well,” says the Mullah. “I was smuggling donkeys.”<\/p>\n
(Don’t ask me what the religious moral of these stories is. I can’t even begin to guess. )<\/p>\n