Sunday 1st April 2018

A Matthew Passion was given at San Paulo in London last week. It was freezing cold but marvellous mu. I followed the words in English and had a revelation. I never knew before how Christ suffered. Well, I did, but not properly. In his grandeur and greatness, how he suffered. ‘My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?’ he cried as he died on the Cross. Everybody knows that. Just as a thing he said, on its own as it were.  But the whole lead-up to the Cross was agony for Christ – the mockery, the isolation, the irrational behaviour of the mob, Pilate’s humanity that mysteriously could not save him, the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, his dread of his destiny which he knew.

In a smaller way the Poor Little Rich Gays suffer and are human, unlike the Earls’ Court Gays who are hard and glossy with their bleached teeth and full denial of wrong-doing or error, even in decor. The Poor Little Rich Gay trembles in doubt and uncertainty, yet soars high in greatness, as Genevieve Suzy soared high on Hastings West Hill that sunny day of false Spring in February; then plunge as low again.

Only to rise again. There could have been no Resurrection without the Crucifixion. Only from disaster can the true heights be achieved. Poor Little Rich Gays defy Death but know it. Without Death they are nothing.