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Horses in Yellowstone
‘They will appear; may you behold them!
A horse nation will appear, behold!’
— John G Neihardt, Black Elk Speaks

You stand tied to a rail
tails swishing, hooves scuffing
the dirt, saddles well worn.
Your ancestors came from here,
died out and then returned
with Cortés, bringing empire.

As I rounded the bend there
you were against a backdrop
of green wooded mountains.
The fawn and tan rocky shoulders
showing through the Douglas firs,
under dark rising thunderheads.

Your forebears escaped the yoke
and ran mustang free on the plains,
became the prize of the people.
Yet you served the settlers faithfully
and serve them still, bearing their
way of life, without you no cowboys.

Here in Yellowstone you bear
these tourists into the landscape,
spurs clinking, hats jauntily cocked.
I walk up to one of you, touch your
brown face and the black eyes
meet mine, you nuzzle my hand.

We made a covenant of freedom
with you, our freedom for your
indenture, your long servitude,
and when we no longer needed
your legs, we measured our vehicles
in enumerations of your motive power.

This picture is the West as it is sold,
land of the free, home of the brave,
but in your eyes, meeting mine, is another
story, also told in the ancient bones
and the Great Falls of the Yellowstone,
that freedom is gained by mutuality.

It may be that when Crazy Horse
is mounted again over Dakota’s Black Hills
we will accept that a covenant made with
hearts like yours, beating round mine here,
is the only way to save ourselves, our lives,
by acting as if ‘the holy land is everywhere’.*

*Attributed to the Lakota Holy Man Black Elk.

It’s been some time since I posted a straightforward Substack, as opposed to my Jess Jennings Miniseries. I wondered what to write about when I came across this article in The New York Times.

Under Trump, Wild Horses are going to Slaughter

Project 2025, a policy paper by the Heritage Foundation that in many ways has acted as a blueprint for the second Trump administration, has argued that the bureau needs to be able cut costs by killing horses and said that Congress “must enact laws permitting the B.L.M. to dispose humanely of these animals.”

New York Times - 20th August 2026

I thought the best metaphor for the state of American politics and democracy was the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool debacle, but somehow this article and the reality it uncovers are even more apposite. Of course, the actions of ICE (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement) in killing its own citizens, such as Renee Nicole Good, Geraldo Lunas Campos, Alex Pretti, and Luis Gustavo Núñez Cáceres (see article in the Guardian: Eight people have died in dealings with ICE so far in 2026 - January 28th), are so egregious that in many ways no further proof is needed that Trump’s Regime has sunk to a dreadful moral low.

Something in the depravity of this story about the attempts to dispose of the wild mustangs that roam freely in the wilder regions of the USA and the possible shady connection between the President’s attempts to lower beef prices. Moreover, the way these attempts are affecting loyal, Trump-supporting beef farmers is very revealing. They are very upset with his actions and are not hiding it.

See NBC's Report

It seems we live in apocalyptic times. The original Greek meaning is helpful here, I think. The word comes from the Ancient Greek apokalypsis, which means "to uncover," "to disclose," or "to reveal". By looking more deeply into the events that continue to unfold here in the UK and across the pond, we can sometimes discern a deeper disclosure of both the awful realities and the potential antidotes to the time we live in. C.G. Jung, in the Red Book, spoke of the spirit of the times and the spirit of the depths. The awful realities could be seen as the spirit of the times, and the potential antidotes as the spirit of the depths.

I am drawn back to a film that made a deep impression on me when I first saw it and on all subsequent viewings. The Misfits, released in the year I was born, 1961, is a melancholy western drama directed by John Huston and written by Arthur Miller that explores alienation, the fading myth of the American West, and the breakdown of traditional masculinity. It stars Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable, both of whom died within two years of its release. It has a central scene in which Gay Langland (Clark Gable), an ageing cowboy, and his friend Guido (Eli Wallach) decide to hunt wild mustangs in the Nevada desert to sell them for dog food. The electrifying central scene of roping wild mustangs exposes the cruel commodification of nature rather than any heroic frontier triumph, as the characters mask their inner emptiness, ageing, and desperation behind tough, rugged exteriors. Their need to dominate the land and wild animals mirrors their desperate need to feel relevant in a world that they feel is moving beyond the grip of their outdated masculinity. Marilyn Monroe’s character, Roslyn, serves as the film's moral centre through her profound empathy. She values all living things and is deeply disturbed by needless destruction and death, and her gentle nature highlights the harsh, transactional relationships the men maintain with both the environment and themselves.

How prophetic! In this country, Robert Jenrick, one-time Tory, now Reform spokesman on Finance, had this to say:

Jenrick claimed paying benefits to non-British people was “plain immoral” – even though many would have paid into the tax system through working. He also wrote in the Telegraph over the weekend that the amount spent on disability benefits was “not generosity … it is suicidal empathy”.

The Guardian 16th August 2026

The phrase "toxic empathy" was popularised recently by conservative podcaster and author Allie Beth Stuckey, who used it as the title of her 2024 book, Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion. If anything uncovers, discloses and reveals the spirit of the times, it is the weaponisation of empathy.

According to the Cambridge Dictionary, empathy is a noun meaning the power to imagine what it is like to be in someone else's situation.

The fact that this definition applies only to other humans is inadequate to me. What makes Monroe’s character so wonderfully distinctive is her ability to extend that to the natural world, especially to fellow creatures. Isolation binds the central characters in the Misfits together despite their attempts to connect, and the stark, desolate landscape mirrors their inner desolation and emotional displacement. This diagnosis of the American psyche by Miller and Houston seems writ large in the current administration and, in its Temo version, in the Reform Party and some elements of the Conservative Party in the UK.

What of the spirit of the depths, then? Well, that is where my poem at the head of this Substack comes in. I quote from John G. Neihardt's Black Elk Speaks, first published in 1932. The story is of an Oglala Lakota visionary and healer, Nicholas Black Elk, from the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, a place Tom and I visited on our American Odyssey in 2023. It recounts his visions in a powerful spiritual testament. A moving chapter, “The Horse Dance," tells the story of rituals and visions that herald the coming of the Horse Nation. A time when the two-legged and the four-legged live in harmony. A time when the empathy and symbiosis embodied in Native and Indigenous American spirituality and lifestyle once again become the lodestar by which that great continent lives.

On our trip, we also visited the Crazy Horse Memorial in South Dakota.

This monument dwarfs Mount Rushmore, both spiritually and geologically. It is in the Black Hills and dedicated to Native American culture across the country, as well as to the life and message of Crazy Horse himself. Again, it speaks of the deep connection between the people and the land. The reason he is portrayed as riding his horse and pointing across the land is to offer an answer to a derisive question from a white cavalryman or trader who asked him in the Lakota tongue, "Where are your lands now?" His answer was, "My lands are where my dead lie buried."

I offer this poem as an appeal to the spirit of the depths present in each one of us. To never sever that connection, facilitated by sacred empathy between the four-legged world and the two-legged one. To reject in all its forms the blasphemous heresy that we are separate from them and not interdependent, and that our fate does not reside in theirs.

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imagining what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to be set in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Listen to the Podcast here

Sixteenth Report - London - April 2024

Jess’s friends and her Agents for Change were shocked and in despair. While many were stunned, her closest friends doubted she would take her own life. They suspected a plot by powerful figures but had no proof.

Authorities swiftly cracked down on their activities, closing websites, raiding offices, and arresting some on anti-terrorism charges. Fear spread through their group, and her friends planned to return to the North to rebuild their lives.

Bethany and Bounty, however, were highly suspicious of the circumstances surrounding Jess’s disappearance. Consequently, they decided to revisit the scene. The incident had occurred on the Tuesday after the Easter Bank Holiday. It was now Thursday, and they were astonished at how quickly the story had slipped from the media spotlight.

Even the story about the al-Qaeda suspect’s release had been superseded by an alleged affair between a government minister and a male competitor on Traitors, all the more juicy because he had just come out strongly against same-sex marriage.

The two women felt compelled to return, unsure of what they’d find. Early in the morning, the site seemed back to normal—no police presence or forensic tents. Unseen by them, a hidden camera was set up for surveillance, with security services covering all bases.

They wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, sharing their grief that there was no body to bury. They wondered whether to walk down the bank to see if there was any sign of Jess’s remains.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the hazy mist that enveloped them and the river. They recognised him as the police officer who had been at the scene on the day of Jess’s disappearance. However, he was off duty and dressed in civilian clothes.

Bounty questioned him,

‘What are you doing here?’ anticipating a reminder that they should move on, since this was still a crime scene.

The man spoke with a smile, saying,

‘I returned this morning because I felt compelled to. I’m suspicious about how things turned out on Tuesday; it was too convenient and resolved too quickly. Nothing is ever that simple. But that’s not the main issue,’ he said, giving the women a curious look.

He led them back up to the park opposite the river and sat them down.

‘She has reappeared’

He said.

‘What?’

They blurted out.

‘I was walking along the bank, upriver, about half an hour ago, searching for any signs that might have been missed. Then she appeared out of the mist, walking towards me, dressed in a beautiful sari.’

‘What do you mean she did not commit suicide after all?’

Bethany inquired, disbelief evident.

‘No, weirder than that,’

He said earnestly,

‘She told me the security forces had tortured her, drugged her, and then drowned her, but that there was a greater power in the world than theirs, and that she was evidence of it. She said that should all go back North, she would meet you there.’

The two women looked at the policeman, uncertain whether he was trying to deceive them or had mental health concerns. He appeared both rational and very serious.

‘We should leave here,’

He said, sensing the scene might be observed.

‘Let’s return to the bank quickly to check if she is still there.’

They hurried to the bank and stepped into the mist. As expected, she was there and greeted the women with affection and warmth. They collapsed into her embrace, weeping, as did Jess. After several moments of silent solace and joy, she told them to inform the others that she would meet them in Edlington. They then set out for the tube station, accompanied by an off-duty constable who chose to travel north with them.

He was right about surveillance. The morning shift at the safe house reviewed footage of the three talking animatedly, then rewound to see them vanish into the mist, which immediately raised their suspicions. They went straight to the scene and found it deserted. The muddy bank, where the tide had receded, revealed four sets of footprints. This perplexed them, as they could not account for the presence of a fourth individual during that early-morning incident.

In the following days, the situation escalated as reports circulated that Jess had reappeared and had been seen by several people in Edlington. Various accounts surfaced online, offering numerous speculative assertions. Some claimed that she had not committed suicide; others suggested that she had been tortured by the authorities, while some theories proposed that her escape and subsequent death were orchestrated to resemble a suicide. Additionally, there were suggestions that the government felt sufficiently threatened and decided at the highest level to dispose of her.

The most notable claims came from her closest friends. There were reports that she had allegedly been murdered, but she subsequently reappeared and spent time in Edlington. Low-resolution photographs were uploaded to Facebook, and a low-quality video was posted on YouTube, purportedly showing her sitting in a house in Edlington, drinking tea and laughing.

Her inner circle kept her policy of not speaking to the media, and posts came from outsiders, not her close friends. The security forces attempted to question many of them, but many of these individuals were difficult to locate. When they were questioned they consistently stated that they were aware of the truth about her killing and offered forgiveness on behalf of Jess. They also requested their questioners to leave their positions and join the movement.

The movement, known as The Great Turning, Emergence, or Peace, became increasingly disruptive to those in power because of its organic, uncontrollable nature. Since Jess’ murder, the movement grew more organised, with decentralised actions emerging everywhere. Small groups, called cells, spread to every town, continuing the work initiated at St Paul’s. What had started as one woman’s mission for the Great Emergence was now becoming a visible reality.

Accompanying Material

Against a political culture of triumphalism we must try to recover the “gospel experience of negation” and develop an “indigenous theology of the cross” (Hall, 1976). This means adopting a structural analysis that explains how we benefit from a system that routinely inflicts crosses upon the world’s disinherited. The present arrangement of world power is not a reward for hard work, or a happy accident, or the white man’s burden, or a divine vocation. The first awakening is that our prosperity is based upon a system of robbery and domination. If metanoia means a radical break with “business as usual” (above, 3,F,iii), its meaning for us is, as W. A. Williams puts it, to simply say no to empire. But he asks: Do we have either the imagination or the courage to say “no” to empire? It is now our responsibility. It has to do with how we live and how we die. We as a culture have run out of imperial games to play [1980:213].

Similarly, recent history suggests that liberation movements that are fundamentally military in character can never fully eradicate the infrastructures of an oppressive system that was itself founded and perpetuated by a military elite. In a world ruled by the logic of militarism, armed struggle becomes counterrevolutionary. In stating this position our aim is not to condemn violent reactions to structural injustice or judge those who have felt compelled, under circumstances far more threatening than ours, to take up the gun in a liberation struggle. Nor, in using the term “nonaligned radicalism” to describe Mark’s position vis-à-vis the Jewish rebellion, do I mean to imply that today we should be politically unallied. Quite the contrary! Rather, it is to say that we are searching for a political practice that will attack capitalism and militarism at their roots, and are compelled in this search by Mark’s apocalyptic politics of the cross. The unity between ends and means lacking in Marxist theory and practice, and demanded by Mark, I believe can be found in Gandhian nonviolence. Gandhi’s understanding of swaraj (liberation, self-reliance) anticipated (by a half-century!) every cardinal theme in contemporary theologies of liberation (Jesudasan, 1984). But Gandhi insisted that [the poor] cannot successfully fight [the big powers] with their own weapons. After all, you cannot go beyond the atom bomb. Unless we have a new way of fighting imperialism of all brands in place of the outworn one of violent revolution, there is no hope for the oppressed [1948, II:8]. Gandhian nonviolence should not be identified with the moralism of the privileged, which imposes its abstract ethical absolutes on the situation—though admittedly it is often presented this way by First World advocates. Gandhi’s experiments with satyagraha were forged in a context of imperial domination, and continue in such sites today. In any case, like the gospel, the truth of our commitment to nonviolence will be borne out only in practice. We are clear that our derivative practice of satyagraha here in the First World has a very long way to go until it is taken seriously as a revolutionary alternative by others who disagree with us. To read and reread Mark takes us ever deeper into the ongoing struggle to promote and practice repentance and resistance in the locus imperium. Philip Berrigan has likened this struggle to the biblical parable of Jonah. Like that beleaguered prophet, we have been, most of us, in full flight from our vocation to “cry against the great city” (Jon 1:1). It is only when we have abandoned—or are thrown overboard from—the metropolitan “ship-of-state,” so to speak, that we are able to awaken to imperial reality in the “belly of the beast.” Only there do Christians realize that “those who pay allegiance to vain idols forsake their true loyalty” (Jon 2:8). Our task, in the well-known words of the nineteenth-century Cuban anti-imperialist writer José Martí, is to live “inside the monster and know its entrails.” Yet Martí’s switch in biblical metaphors was also apt, for we are truly confronting an imperial Goliath (1 Sm 17). A military giant, armored to the teeth and brandishing history’s deadliest spear, the metropolis stands on the hill of history, “reproaching” the people of God (17:4–11). Yet the rule of the sword today is such, and the demands of the gospel are such, that we cannot contend with this Goliath on his own terms; the armor of Saul “will not do” (17:39). Our weapon is “only the slingshot of David.” But it is to such long odds that the “mystery of the kingdom” belongs (Mk 4:30–32).

Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus

A myth, though, is not a lie. At its most profound – as Tolkien, that devout Catholic, always argued – a myth can be true. To be a Christian is to believe that God became man, and suffered a death as terrible as any mortal has ever suffered. This is why the cross, that ancient implement of torture, remains what it has always been: the fitting symbol of the Christian revolution. It is the audacity of it – the audacity of finding in a twisted and defeated corpse the glory of the creator of the universe – that serves to explain, more surely than anything else, the sheer strangeness of Christianity, and of the civilisation to which it gave birth. Today, the power of this strangeness remains as alive as it has ever been. It is manifest in the great surge of conversions that has swept Africa and Asia over the past century; in the conviction of millions upon millions that the breath of the Spirit, like a living fire, still blows upon the world; and, in Europe and North America, in the assumptions of many more millions who would never think to describe themselves as Christian. All are heirs to the same revolution: a revolution that has, at its molten heart, the image of a god dead on a cross.

Tom Holland, Dominion: The Making of the Western Mind

The Rising of the Accursed One

These connections immediately suggest the impossibility of understanding the Resurrection without the Passion. It is not just anyone who is raised from the dead. It is Jesus the Nazarene, the one who was crucified (Mk 16:6). The women expect to see a corpse and see none. Never will Jesus’ presence be the one they seek that morning, never more. Jesus is not a corpse; Jesus is not the prisoner of death. Jesus the Nazarene, the insignificant poor one who was crucified, the one rejected and destroyed as the lowest of the low, this threat to public order and incorrigible enemy of the manipulators and the mighty has been rescued by God from all power of destruction and corruption forever. God’s future becomes present in this poor, destitute, disfigured, annihilated reprobate. This human being who was made into society’s refuse has within him the life of God. The power of injustice and ambition, deceit, destruction, oppression, and money are rendered impotent before the life of God, the life that takes sides with the poor and the just.

Today is the first day of a new creation. The sun rises (Mk 16:3) in the darkness that has covered the earth (15:33). Light, new life, come to us from the risen Jesus (Eph 5:14; cf. Justin’s Apology 1,47). This Jesus, misunderstood, taken for insane, attacked, threatened, condemned, and murdered, is the same Jesus that has been raised again. This is what the titles given him by the youth, with the indication of the empty tomb, are meant to convey to us. It is the actual, earthly Jesus to whom this has happened, and Mark makes sure he is identified. For it is only thus that the name of Jesus and the title of Son of God can be the consolation of actual, mortal men and women. Only thus can we follow Christ (Pokorny 1973, 124).

Jose Cardenas Pallares, A Poor Man Called Jesus

Easter 2020

What burst of light illuminated that empty tomb,

what delicate potency folded those grave clothes

and neatly placed the cloth from around his head.

And the stone covering the entrance, too heavy

for one dead man to push away, yet now

what was shut lay opened and exposed to all

the elements of human credulity and doubt.

The women were, first there, of course, always

the women are left to care for the dead - to perform

the necessary work, to carry the fragrant spices,

to hallow the tomb whilst men do all the killing.

And so they are able to see the lightning ones,

the snow gilded, whiter than a bleacher,

heralds of a secret realm of love, greeting them

with a message indefatigably simple: ‘he is not here’.

This went slowly, yet exponentially viral. It began

in stuttering misunderstanding, Mary Magdalene

mistook the dead living one for a gardener,

an easy mistake as she had only hints in her

past that could have prepared her for this reunion.

Then he used her name and her anxiety melted

in a furnace of identification, a crucible of recognition,

she tried to hold him, but he was not graspable

and she ran to his friends, telling them ‘I have seen him’.

They weren’t easy in their acceptance, until he slipped

into their company and breathed all over them, they

had no antibodies for this infection of peace and so

it spread. They travelled from one place to another

back to boats and families and he was there again,

making them breakfast and feeding them with this

contagion that there was another life, another way.

What happened in those early days of propagation,

why did this infectivity become so airborne that it

reaches even you who read this in the time of COVID ?

I have no idea what really happened in that far away

graveyard, or what the world we live in will glean

from it, but I do know it is still spreading and multiplying.

Adrian G R Scott

Thomas Wanted to See Nail Marks

It was cold in that room,

and having to disrobe in front of them all

made it doubly cold.

I couldn’t feel the hand probing

or the finger in the holes.

It was actually quite numb.

It had been a week since the last time.

I had walked the streets, sleeping in doorways,

watching the world continue.

I so wanted to bring peace

to all those speckled souls feeding

off the leftovers of other people’s lives.

And then I entered that

cenacle again, their hungry eyes

all on me, and his searching digits.

All I had to offer them

was the fleeting amnesty of one

who has come through the firestorm of Gehenna.

It was truly a death. I still bled

sporadically, especially from my side.

And he, named the Twin, doubted me.

What he momentarily grasped

when he prodded my lesions was

here was a way of living again.

Thomas gestated with another,

a womb partner, always simpatico

with his twin presence in the world.

This man who never faced

the place of the lonely skull felt

my born-through-death somatics.

I told him the truth:

He was lucky to see this bodily proof.

But did any of them really get it?

I remained for a while,

but they quickly lost sight of the intimation

in my wounded palms and soles.

I had told them all on three occasions:

I would be buried like a seed in death’s dark earth,

but then I would spring into life again.

The thing they missed—

and that is why I drifted away in the end

and wandered off down to the fisherman’s docks—

the thing they missed

is that this was not a one-off.

I learned to rise by dying over and over again.

Etymological notes

Cenacle: a dining room, especially one on an upper floor

(traditionally the room in which the Last Supper took place).

Gehenna: Thought to be named after the Valley of Hinnom outside

Jerusalem, constantly filled with the waste of the city, which was

then burnt.

Afterword

When I was twenty, I worked at a clothing store called Ray Allan Manshops in Sheffield. It was my first job after failing miserably at school. In the middle of 1981, during a recession, jobs were scarce, and we earned slightly more than the unemployment benefit, with a one per cent commission on sales. Senior managers often reminded us that many people were eager to take our jobs if we quit or were fired.

One Friday, the shop manager told us that a lad from his hometown of Maltby (a pit town near Rotherham) was starting as an assistant on Monday. As an aside, he cautioned us that he was one of those born-again Christian types and that we had been warned.

His name was Mick, a punk with jet-black hair, thin as Sid Vicious, who chain-smoked in the tearoom during breaks. I waited for the evangelical sales pitch to save my soul. It never came. I grew so curious that I finally asked him what was so good about Christianity.

I lost faith after my Dad died of a stroke and heart attack when I was eleven, and my Mum had a nervous breakdown during my teens. I was ready to argue against the existence of God, but he seemed familiar with my struggles, having had a tough upbringing in a South Yorkshire pit town. When he handed me a worn New Testament and suggested reading Mark’s Gospel to understand Jesus, I had no idea what to expect.

My childhood perception of Jesus was of a gentle, meek, and mild figure. He was just another part of the cultural backdrop of my world. One night, I read the opening chapter of Mark on the bus home from work. The narrative moved quickly, presenting a vibrant, engaged character. By chapter three, his adversaries were planning to kill him, and I almost missed my stop because I was so absorbed in the story.

I remain deeply troubled by the observation that, in general, many Christians have struggled to embody the character depicted in the little brown plastic-bound Bible I encountered on the number Seventeen bus in 1980. My exploration of the Catholic Church and subsequent transition beyond institutional Christianity have led me to believe that it is crucial to move beyond a church-led (or at least not institutionally controlled) approach to embracing the teachings and message of Mark’s gospel. This shift could be critical if we are to address the crises and challenges of the early 21st century with courage, determination, and creative ingenuity.

I began retelling Mark’s testament as a personal meditation. I wondered who today’s protagonists would be, how it would feel, and what my stance on Jesus was. My experiences living in an experimental religious community in Maltby, working as a community development consultant around Doncaster, and living in Sheffield shaped my imagination. Edlington, where I tried to set up a community forum, seemed perfect for a modern Christ. The Yorkshire Main Colliery in Edlington closed in 1985, triggering the town’s decline and mirroring the economic slumps in South Yorkshire towns reliant on coal, steel, or train construction.

On a sabbatical in 2010, whilst tramping solo the Cumbria Way, it dawned on me that the only way to capture the utterly surprising wisdom emanating from an uneducated, uncultured carpenter from the sticks was to make my Jesus figure a woman.

In our society, women are still not always taken seriously, and a largely male elite often resists the march of female emancipation. Of the few female Prime Ministers we have had, the first acted with such macho disregard for the consequences of her actions that she might as well have been the most callous of men, as the village of Edlington, with its Poundshops and closed pubs and clubs, silently testifies to forty years later.

To achieve the full shock value of Jesus’s social status, it became obvious to me that a hairdresser’s daughter from an ex-pit town was a natural choice. How many people in contemporary society would anticipate hearing a transformative message from someone like Jess? This highlights my preconceptions before working in Edlington, as well as biases related to the North and, specifically, towards working-class women from the North.

The most startling revelation I had whilst working on this project was that far from being difficult to imagine, it was incredibly easy.

As Mark Widdowson, my fictitious journalist, observes in his introduction, ‘whatever you believe happened to Jess Jennings after her death, what circumstances could have led the establishment to feel sufficiently threatened to take such draconian action? Fundamentally, if anyone or any group challenge the system, the system will release its antibodies and seek to wipe out the threat. That will do it every time.’

I have often observed that reality mirrors my imaginings. I began writing this in 2011, conceptualising a mass cycle ride into London and three days of action originating from the steps of St Paul’s, a year before the Occupy Movement staged a similar event in October 2011. Subsequently, I encountered a Traveller Lady on the streets of Doncaster who, after giving me lucky heather, told me I was writing a book and that it would be meaningful for people. Additionally, I met a man with Tourette’s syndrome in a bookshop who was collecting for a charity supporting his condition. He shared a story that closely resembled one from Report eleven. As I have revised this for publication on my Substack and as a podcast in 2025, it is quite straightforward to imagine Jess in the context of the 2020s.

When I studied the New Testament, I noted that Mark’s gospel was the first to be written down (around 70 AD) and that it was composed in straightforward Koine (common) Greek. This style can be compared to that of a journalist, moving quickly and lacking the descriptive subtlety of novelistic or academic prose. This concise testament reflects the direct qualities of the first gospel.

Jess, much like Jesus, is a quiet revolutionary. She ignites the spark that fuels a growing movement of change and transformation. Jesus referred to this phenomenon as the Kingdom of God, rather than the Church, while Jess calls it the Great Turning. This concept, similar to his, is not confined to religious terminology; Jesus utilised metaphors from his everyday world, such as light, salt, scattered seed, and great trees.

The concept of “The Great Turning” was introduced by David C. Korten in his book of the same name, while the idea of the “Great Emergence” has been discussed by scholars such as Joanna Macy and Phyllis Tickle. These concepts call for a transition from an Empire-centric worldview to an Earth Community perspective. For Jess, this change requires institutions that identify as custodians of Christianity to recognise their alignment with the imperial mindset, as with banks or multinational corporations.

If readers believe that I have deviated from the original source text or imparted too much personal bias, I commend them for undertaking the task of retelling the gospel for themselves. Write your own gospel based on your own milieu. I suspect it will surprise you and, hopefully, leave you astonished, as I still am.

Adrian G R Scott

June 2025

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imagining what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to be set in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Listen to the Podcast Episode Here

Fifteenth Report - London - April 2024

They replaced the restraints around Jess’s wrists and dragged her towards the entrance, Josephine Akubu following right behind, insisting on accompanying her.

By then, it was known that Jess had been arrested, and a crowd had gathered on the road outside the Palace gatehouse. Although all her close comrades had left and were hiding, Rob had followed her. He was at the front of the crowd. A woman in the group who had taken part in the campaign at St Paul’s noticed him and made her way to him, grabbing his shoulder.

‘Rob,’ she said, ‘what’s happening? Where is she?’

At that moment, the security van with darkened windows, transporting Jess, drove past. One of the accompanying riders pulled up in front of Rob and stared at him.

‘I don’t know. I’m not involved in this; I was just passing by,’

Rob replied to the woman, without making eye contact and looking at the ground.

‘You are. I saw you there at the camp every day. Listen to yourself; you’re from the North, and she brought you all down with her.’

The woman was certain. The rider removed his helmet. Rob recognised him as one of the operatives from Altab Ali Park.

He looked straight at Rob and spoke in a menacing voice.

‘Well, are you one of hers? You look familiar to me, and I have orders to arrest anyone in this crowd who was close to her.’

‘For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with you all? Can’t a bloke from the north walk the streets of London? I have no idea who you’re talking about. I’ve come here looking for work. I’m staying with a mate round the corner.’ Rob was getting scared. Another bike pulled up, the rider urging the first rider to hurry. He shrugged, got back on his bike, and left. The woman looked at Rob with disgust before turning away. Feeling broken and ashamed, Rob ran off.

With strict security measures in place, Jess was swiftly transported to the Houses of Parliament and placed in a secure room, guarded by operatives and barred from receiving visitors. Josephine Akubu was not permitted to accompany Jess on her brief journey and, at that moment, was seeking a judicial ruling to allow her to represent Jess at the hearing.

It was early in the Easter Bank Holiday weekend, and the city was quiet. Convening the committee proved difficult, as some members were away. Government members had received personal calls from the Home Secretary the previous evening, demanding their presence.

The committee achieved a quorum at 9:15 am and convened in camera, meaning the meeting was held privately without any public or press presence. Josephine obtained a judicial ruling permitting her to represent Jess; the judge acknowledged her authority to attend. Upon arrival, she found that three National Security advisors were presenting the case against her client.

Jess entered, handcuffed and dishevelled. She had obviously been interrogated, and some physical coercion had been applied. She was limping, her face was puffy, and her right eye was swollen.

The Chair of the committee, a former Home Secretary, had been thoroughly briefed. It was important to establish that Jess posed a significant threat to national security and should be detained under the Anti-Terrorism Act.

Once more, Josephine sought to determine the committee’s legal status and was informed that the matter concerned national security. She was advised that the committee had been convened to provide the Home Secretary with an immediate assessment of the level of threat posed and the necessary remedial actions.

‘She is not a disease; she is a human being.’ Josephine quipped.

‘Ms. Akubu, we are not here to argue with you about procedures you barely grasp. We have a major threat to address, and the sooner you let us proceed, the better,’ the Chair replied.

The evidence against her went on for over an hour. The charges ranged from her attempting to hack into and subvert the stock market mainframes to a plot to bomb major sporting venues, including the FA Cup final and the London Marathon. Jess did not respond to any of their assertions. She sat impassively, remaining silent even when Josephine tried to encourage her to speak.

The Chair of the Committee, aware of the passage of time and concerned that her supporters were mobilising, decided to take decisive action.

‘Is it not the case that you have advocated the complete overthrow of the state and, following your violent revolution, the establishment of a new order in which people’s legitimate rights to their wealth and status are stripped away?’

Jess finally broke her silence.

‘You need to figure that out yourself, sir,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve kept nothing secret. You can Google me, speak to those who followed my path, and see the fruits of my work for yourself.’

The Committee Chairman, Michael Parton-Stuart, was accustomed to respect and flattery. Nonetheless, he was incensed by her response. With all eyes on him, he called for a pause in proceedings. He sought advice from the Home Secretary, who suggested speaking with senior opposition MP Giovanna Bacelli. Ambitious and expected to join the shadow cabinet soon, Bacelli had a media background as a former senior news editor at Sky News. Parton-Stuart spoke to her privately. ‘Both sides of the house agree that this woman is trouble and needs to be taken off the streets as’ soon as possible’.

He began.

‘Perhaps you could consider utilising some of your contacts in the press to gain support for our cause. I can offer significant advantages to your career, Giovanna. Despite being on different sides, the path to success is similar for both, and this opportunity could add substantial credibility to your profile.’

‘Alright, I believe I can manage this. It should take a couple of hours.’

She replied, looking pleased with herself.

‘Right, I will adjourn till lunch, and then we will see how the land lies.’

He turned on his heel, and she sped off, already dialling the first contact she was to exploit.

She returned to Parton-Stuart’s offices after about ninety minutes.

‘I have a proposition for you. You may not like it, but it will work.’

‘I’m listening,’ he replied.

‘Do you know the al-Qaeda cleric currently under high-security detention?’

‘Yes,’ he said, frowning.

‘The European courts have the case and are likely to recommend his release, citing concerns that he cannot be extradited because he would not receive a fair trial in Israel.’

The chairman leaned forward, nodding.

‘Well, release him now, this afternoon. The press will go crazy; the left will be caught out, as the human rights of a fermenter of terrorism aren’t what they had in mind when they bang on about liberty. Your backbenchers will be able to point to the excesses of the European Court of Human Rights, and the government will be able to say their hands were tied. No one will be interested in some hairdresser’s daughter from South Yorkshire when this hits the headlines. You can do what you like with her for a couple of days, and no one will notice or care.’

Parton-Stuart looked dubious, suspecting a plot within a plot. He pondered briefly before saying,

‘You are in the wrong party, girl. We could do with a few more like you on our side. People who know how to cut to the chase to protect the good, honest folk of this great nation.’

He laughed.

‘Sitting opposite you doesn’t mean we don’t know a real threat when we see one, and that woman is dangerous because she can’t be bought.’

Giovanna retorted.

He dismissed her with assurances of patronage and support. Then, taking out his mobile phone, he set out to persuade the Home Secretary of the plan’s intricate yet undeniable logic. Eventually, she concurred and initiated the process for a bank holiday release. The Home Secretary added that the release would merely be a façade, with the individual swiftly placed under house arrest and tagged as soon as the media could be diverted to another carefully managed issue. They planned to ensure justice would be served before the upcoming election. Parton-Stuart omitted to mention the originator of the plan and enjoyed the recognition he received.

The release sparked a media storm, diverting journalists from Jess’ case. This enabled the committee to declare Jess a national security threat and keep her in the custody of the Security Services. While the media waited outside the prison of the al-Qaeda cleric, anticipating the Home Secretary’s press conference, it was announced that Jess would be taken for further questioning. The Security Services used underground passageways in the Houses of Parliament to transport her to an unmarked van and then to a secure location, a safe house in Pimlico. Josephine was also taken for questioning by the Security Services to another location, preventing her from informing Jess’ friends and supporters of her whereabouts or the outcome of proceedings. All forms of communication were removed from her.

The dark forces behind the officials had free rein. They decided to terminate her in a way that ensured plausible deniability for all involved. The cabal of wealthy, influential and unelected leaders had ensured that the Prime Minister had abdicated final responsibility for her fate to the head of special operations, in concert with the CIA, so that he could remain ignorant of the affair. The American president’s security advisors kept him abreast of this, but without any paper trail or traceable lines of communication.

Hooded and handcuffed for the journey, she arrived at the safe house and was forced to stand in stress positions whilst remaining blindfolded, ears plugged, and mouth gagged. They were determined to find out whether she had any connections with other groups or had been recruited by known terrorist organisations to carry out her operations.

She was kept that way for most of the night. The sensory deprivation was broken only when she was dragged into an intensely lit room and subjected to questioning interspersed with periods of agonisingly loud white noise. Then they had her hanging by her wrists, feet just grazing the floor.

She remained unresponsive to their persistent questioning, which further aggravated her captors. They finally resorted to waterboarding, a horrific practice in which the victim is pinned on her back with her head inclined downwards, her face covered with a porous cloth, and water is poured in large amounts over her face. This can create a sensation of drowning, leading to severe panic and possibly heart failure.

Throughout the ordeal, she maintained a resolute and dignified silence. She passed out three times during the waterboarding. When they revived her the third time, she collapsed into tears and curled up on the floor of her cell in a foetal position. She had been stripped naked, and threats of rape and abuse were hurled at her.

A senior operative then entered the room unexpectedly. He instructed that her clothes be found, and once she was dressed, he ensured her wounds were attended to and offered her a cup of tea. Despite being soaked, she gratefully drank the tea, as she was extremely dehydrated.

Unbeknownst to Jess, the tea had been laced with a potent hallucinogen commonly used to disorient individuals and extract truthful information. As the intensity of the visual and auditory disturbances escalated, she began to scream. After approximately an hour, the interrogator concluded that she had no affiliations with other groups and was not associated with al-Qaeda.

She was returned to her cell and allowed to sleep for a few hours. Throughout the entire situation, her only response to them was that she forgave them. An operative found this both intolerable and intriguing. He asked her why she said this.

‘Because you only know how to do what you are ordered to do, and you, all of you, are asleep in your lives; you only see what those in power show you. This is the way it has always been.’

He responded,

‘You do know you are going to die very soon and that all your work will be forgotten by next month. If I were you, I would be terrified and furious, doing all I could to get away.’

‘You would only kill me sooner and say I was attempting to escape.’

Which was, in fact, one of their options. She told him,

‘My message, however, remains indomitable; the Great Emergence can only be brought about through forgiveness, reconciliation, and love.’

They then tidied her up, made her presentable, retrieved her phone, and sent urgent-sounding texts to two friends, implying she had escaped and arranging a meeting near the Royal Hospital Grounds by the Thames. The meeting was set for two hours later, under cover of night.

The operatives drove her in an unmarked van to the agreed spot, gagged and bound. She was then unbound and drugged with a sedative that left her semi-conscious. They carried her to the riverbank, stripped her, and placed her phone and clothes in a pile on the bank. They had set the phone to send more texts to her close friends, saying she had named them all to the security services as traitors and terrorists. The texts said she felt so wracked with guilt for giving them away that the only answer was to end it all. They had been very careful to make the wording so much in her style that they would believe it.

While Jess was held in the Safe House, other operatives had been diligently working. They had once again collaborated with their media contacts. Davina had been highly cooperative, and they discovered that Jess’s father had spent several months in a psychiatric hospital in his youth and had made two suicide attempts.

An article was published linking him to Jess’s alleged megalomania. The piece included an interview with a psychiatrist who stated that significant displays of hubris and cults of personality can often lead to self-destruction if the individual is revealed to be fraudulent, potentially resulting in suicidal tendencies.

Then three of the Secret Service personnel took nylon-covered weights and attached them to her legs and torso. Jess was awake enough throughout the process to know what was happening to her, but unable to move. They carried her out into the river’s current and threw her into the water. Rapidly, her body was carried away as she slowly sank beneath the surface. Her lungs quickly filled with water. Unable to keep herself afloat, she was dead within minutes. They made sure that the place where they dumped her was gravelly enough not to show any tracks.

Jess’s disappearance was vital to the dark forces’ plan, ensuring no body would ever be found. Her sinking under the water allowed them to quickly leave, confident that all evidence would decompose at the bottom of the river.

A local policeman was scheduled to arrive shortly after the operatives left, to find the evidence and intercept her friends. The police, unaware of the ruse, had just been notified of her escape from custody.

The Police Constable who was dispatched had heard Jess speak the previous week and was able to quickly identify her belongings, as he found her clothes, phone, and other items with identifying information. He assumed it was a case of suicide, which made the story more credible.

When Bethany and Bounty arrived, they found Constable Waring already examining Jess’s belongings and informed him about the texts they had received. Grief consumed them as they awaited the forensic team and answered questions. The press arrived shortly thereafter, joined by several of Jess’s friends. Authorities sectioned off the area with incident tape while gathering and recording statements from witnesses.

The news quickly spread that Jess had escaped from police custody earlier that morning. An immediate search was launched, but she had somehow evaded capture. A man reported that he had given her a lift in his van from Pimlico and, while making a delivery near the Royal Hospital, she had asked to be dropped off there. Initially, it was widely believed that she had taken her own life. Consequently, a preliminary search for her body was conducted, and an inquest was opened and subsequently adjourned to a later date.

Accompanying Material

Divinity, then, was for the very greatest of the great: for victors, and heroes, and kings. Its measure was the power to torture one’s enemies, not to suffer it oneself: to nail them to the rocks of a mountain, or to turn them into spiders, or to blind and crucify them after conquering the world. That a man who had himself been crucified might be hailed as a god could not help but be seen by people everywhere across the Roman world as scandalous, obscene, grotesque. The ultimate offensiveness, though, was to one particular people: Jesus’ own. The Jews, unlike their rulers, did not believe that a man might become a god; they believed that there was only the one almighty, eternal deity. Creator of the heavens and the earth, he was worshipped by them as the Most High God, the Lord of Hosts, the Master of all the Earth. Empires were his to order; mountains to melt like wax. That such a god, of all gods, might have had a son, and that this son, suffering the fate of a slave, might have been tortured to death on a cross, were claims as stupefying as they were, to most Jews, repellent. No more shocking a reversal of their most devoutly held assumptions could possibly have been imagined. Not merely blasphemy, it was madness.

Tom Holland- Dominion: The Making of the Western Mind

So now we see that the cross of Jesus cannot be properly understood and appreciated unless we view it in terms of Jesus’ whole life. His life is a journey that leads to the cross, a journey that also raises basic questions about the authentic nature of God and of power as the mediation of God. Jesus proclaims that God is love, and that the only authentic use of power is by way of truth and love. The cross is not the result of some divine decision independent of history; it is the outcome of the basic option for incarnation in a given situation. That entails conflict because sin holds power in history and takes the triumphant form of religious and political oppression.

Jesus had to choose between evading all that or facing up to it squarely. He chose the latter course, challenging the idolatrous use of power to oppress people and the idolatrous conception of God that justified such use. Power that subjugates human beings has nothing to do with the true God.

Jon Sobrino - Christology At The Crossroads

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imagining what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to be set in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

To listen to the podcast, click here

Fourteenth Report - London - April 2024

Jess stayed at Jackson’s house, an Afro-Caribbean drug dealer from Hackney who was trying to get clean and change his life. Despite concerns about the rough area, she accepted his invitation and appreciated his generosity.

He arranged accommodations for Jess’s friends nearby while they prepared for the next Action for Change event. During a meal, an unknown Asian man approached Jess, handed her a beautifully wrapped parcel, and expressed his gratitude for her inspiring words and actions. She opened it to find an exquisite hand-printed silk Sari.

As she thanked him for the sari and touched the silk, some of the guests started to comment to one another:

‘I’m surprised she accepted that gift; she could sell it and donate the money to a charity.’

Another said

‘I bet he is trying to bribe her to do something for him, she’s just like all these do gooders, only in it for herself.’

Many of the people who had begun to gather around her had arrived uninvited to the spontaneous meeting. They reprimanded the man and told him to leave and not disturb Jess further.

She heard this and said

‘Why do you react from some script you have playing in your heads and not look at things as they are, right in front of your noses? He has done me a great kindness. This is a beautiful gift given with grace, and that is how I am going to accept it, with grace. When I pass through death, I want to wear this in memory of all the beauty and kindness I have seen in the world.’

The Secret Services had been aware of Jess and her activities for some time and had made several attempts to infiltrate her movement. The challenge was the lack of a recognisable hierarchy, making it difficult to identify any inner circle. However, the comrades from Edlington who started with her were often present and managed much of the work. Therefore, efforts were made to investigate their backgrounds and covertly contact them to identify any potential vulnerabilities.

The media, particularly tabloid newspapers, were actively seeking information about Jess by making various offers and enticements to individuals close to her. They engaged in unethical practices such as hacking phones and computers, and scrutinizing Jess’s past for publishable content. Several editors and owners expressed their frustration with her refusal to grant interviews and her persistent criticism of their actions.

Davina, one of Jess’s original friends, had, in the past, committed benefit fraud without getting caught. A journalist discovered this, used it to gather information about the group and Jess’s plans, and then passed her name to a senior police officer in the Met. This information eventually reached the Secret Services.

Davina was conducted by an operative to a confidential location where she underwent interrogation. The initial questioning regarding benefit fraud served as a prelude, followed by the offer of incentives. Ultimately, she consented to use a provided mobile phone to inform them of Jess’s whereabouts on Easter Sunday evening and the size of the surrounding crowd. They assured her that their intention was solely to remove Jess from the streets for her own safety and to provide her with the opportunity to articulate her ideas.

Jess and the others were unaware of this. Whilst they were in the city a couple of Jess’s friends asked her:

‘Where are we eating tonight? Are we staying with Jackson again?’

Jess answered,

‘I have arranged for Rahman Chowdhury to meet you at the top of Brick Lane. He will escort you to his restaurant on Princelet Street. Tell him that we will arrive at eight o’clock.’

They arrived and found the man waiting, along with the restaurant as described. It was closed to the public and prepared for a private meal. At eight o’clock, she arrived with her closest friends, including Davina. The meal was elaborate, featuring a banquet with various dishes. They were all taken aback, as she typically ate simple meals and accepted whatever their host provided. This evening appeared to have been planned in advance, with many special dishes included on the menu. Midway through the meal, she abruptly appeared upset and made an unexpected announcement.

‘Someone here will betray me to the authorities. I understand you’re not trying to hurt me, and you want to protect yourself, but the consequences will be more significant than you think.’

They exchanged horrified glances. While most assured they would never do such a thing, Davina remained silent. Jess caught her eye, and she looked away after a few seconds.

Before they could ask more questions, Jess changed the subject. They noticed she seemed distracted and had a lot on her mind. During the meal, she did and said things that made them sit up and pay attention.

She asked the restaurant staff to serve bottles of wine at the conclusion of the meal and retained a bowl of chapattis from the main course. She proceeded to pour the wine into cups and break the bread into pieces.

Then she began to speak to them,

‘Many of you have seen these symbols in churches, some of you have been to services where they have been shared. They have become so familiar and institutionalised that most people have forgotten what they really mean.’

They stared at her, utterly confused.

‘This bread is the same as the bread that the children of Israel took from their captivity in Egypt, the bread of the dispossessed, even in the camps of the holocaust they tried to eat it. It made them part of a story, one body with all the lost, poor and broken of the world. This bread in my hands, made by Muslims, is a staple, always the poorest turn to the simplest of ingredients to keep body and soul together. It is seed, sown and harvested, crushed and baked. It is everyone who has been through the mill. I am about to go through my own mill, and you will have your own crushing. It was taken by the carpenter from Nazareth, and it became him, and he became the bread. When we share it, we become part of the great story and one with the body of humanity - suffering and tortured and the eating should make us more willing to go through it so a better world can be born.’

She handed out the bread and they ate together. She poured wine into their cups.

‘This wine has been crushed too. It has been fermented and allowed to produce a perilous and powerful spirit. We drink it to remember, to forget, when we want to celebrate our relationships, marriages, births, even deaths. We save it up for special times and share it with each other. It is poured out, as we are when we love, when we don’t hold back but give ourselves. The carpenter from Nazareth made it his bond with the world, he poured out his life in an act of ultimate love. His was one of millions of stories of one person sacrificing themselves for others to save them. When we drink this, we are saying yes to that love. Yes, to life, even at the cost of our own.’

She invited them to drink the wine and asked them to name someone they would choose to give life to. Some chose their children, parents, or partners, while others mentioned people they had met through their work with her.

‘Many churches have made this simple act a solemn ritual, restricted to specific sacred people and sacred spaces. So often the simple, liberating truth has been turned by religion into something that only the chosen can do and the rest have to follow behind and do what they are told. They have even turned the most profound act of self-giving into a ceremony that is used to exclude people because they don’t live up to the standards of the sacred cast, standards they don’t even keep themselves.

We eat to remember and unite in changing the world through love. This happens constantly worldwide. A single mother surviving on beans on toast is transforming herself and her children through her love. Change yourselves and the world with that same sacrificial love; that’s my only obligation to you.’

Her friends were puzzled by her sombre tone, sensing a farewell when they felt things were about to escalate to another level. They left the restaurant and went to Altab Ali Park at the bottom of Brick Lane. They gathered around the Shaheed Minar, a monument commemorating the Bangladeshi Language Movement, and she addressed them again.

‘This park remembers Altab Ali, a young Bangladeshi man murdered in this area because he was Asian. You can also you can see the shape of the old Church etched into the ground, it was bombed in the Blitz. This place shows that it is not race or religion that causes evil but poverty and those in power holding on to it at any cost. I will be taken away, and it might feel like your lives are falling apart. You may blame me, but this must happen to prove that love is stronger than evil. When I return, find me in Edlington.’

Rob stood up, looking down at her,

‘Even if all the rest of these nesh out^[1] I will stay with you.’

Jess stood and faced him, putting her hand on his shoulder,

‘Don’t be so cocky, this is harder than you think. I tell you that tonight before the sun comes up again you will have disowned me and everything I stand for.’

No chance’

He shouted at her

‘even if I have to fight to the death, I will protect you’.

‘I don’t want anyone to kill for me; dying changes things, not killing,’

Jess said.

They protested their willingness to die for the cause, and she smiled ruefully before sitting down again.

She indicated the words inscribed on the path:

‘The shade of my tree is offered to those who come and go fleetingly.’

She then informed them,

‘These are the words of Tagore, a Bengali poet, and they provide me with comfort at this moment.’

They often wondered how she knew all these things. Before they could ask, she said,

‘I need to be silent for a while; I am going under those trees. Make sure I am not disturbed and stay awake as I want to know when the time comes’

They wondered what she meant but they daren’t ask and just sat a way off gradually dozing off. Davina said she needed to find a loo and went off down the street. She Whatsapped the number the secret services had given her and told them that Jess was in a quiet place with few people around. She came back before they could suspect her of anything.

After half an hour, Jess approached and found them dozing.

‘This is going to be the hardest night of our lives, can’t you at least keep your eyes open.’

Rob, Julie, and Jeff moved closer to her and attempted to stay awake. Despite the time of year, the evening was warm, making it difficult to remain alert.

They heard her speaking out loud. She kept saying the same phrase over and over:

‘Forgive me my weariness, O Lord. Should I ever lag behind, for this heart that this day trembles so’’^[2]

She returned, shaking and crying, to find them all asleep again.

She pulled them upright;

‘Have I taught you nothing if you don’t find the inner silence how will you stand up to what is coming?’

They sheepishly promised to watch from now on. Noticing her upset, they urged her to return to Jackson’s place. She silently went back to the trees and sat down again. She murmured the same verses again, shivering and moaning. Their eyes drooped again after a few minutes. She woke them gently and led them back to the others, waking them too. Davina was missing, and they wondered where she had gone.

Dark figures entered stealthily through the gates, with Davina trailing behind, attempting to remain unnoticed. Clad in black military uniforms, equipped with automatic weapons and bulletproof vests, they were fully operational, advancing from one point of cover to another.

One of them turned to Davina and whispered;

‘Which one is Jennings?’

Davina pointed at Jess, and they rushed to bind her wrists with cable ties. Her comrades especially the men tried to resist, Kumar grabbed one of the operatives and tried to wrestle the gun from him. The operative smashed him in the jaw and sent him sprawling, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

Jess intervened, stating,

‘No violence. We will die but never kill.’

Her friends backed away as the operatives trained their weapons on them.

The leader said,

‘We have obtained what we came for, so you should leave now, or we will take you as well.’

She addressed the operative, stating,

‘Throughout this time, I have acted publicly, yet you chose not to approach me. Only now, under the cover of darkness, do you decide to act.’

He responded by slapping her, gagging her and then turning his weapon towards her friends. That was the final straw they fled in terror running in different directions.

A journalist who had been with her from the start was now entering the park to speak with her. While interviewing the restaurant owner, he grabbed his camera to take some pictures. A man in black noticed him and pursued, stopping him at the entrance. They struggled for the camera as the man attempted to take it from him. The journalist fled, leaving the camera with the operative.

With great haste she was driven to Lambeth Palace in an unmarked black van. Rob had hung around and grabbed a taxi telling it to follow the van, arriving just behind them; he then loitered outside the gates.

Agents from both sides of the Atlantic were involved in the action, shadowy figures representing even more shadowy vested interests. They had insisted that the first interrogation of Jess take place at the Lambeth Palace and the Archbishop found this hard to resist, as it was his task force that had originally looked into her case and the government insisted this was initially, a church matter. He was however terribly perplexed when he realised the nature of her arrest and the forces that seemed to be behind it.

He had the conservative wing of the Church of England demanding her removal. These Evangelicals considered her unbiblical, while her gender made her unpopular with them and the Anglo-Catholics. Roman Catholic Bishops (in the main) were also upset by what they perceived as her attacks on Catholicism and Church order. Church leaders approached the government to have her, and her activists removed from St Paul’s. They were troubled by the prospect of further actions, especially after the negative impact of the Three Days of Action on the nation’s view of them.

The Archbishop, still wanting to do the right thing, called senior synod members and other church leaders to his palace late that night. They arrived flustered at eleven thirty pm. Jess was brought in under guard and restraints, causing further alarm. A senior Home Office advisor explained that Jess was considered a major security risk due to her alleged involvement with groups like Al Qaeda.

Present too were original members of the South Yorkshire investigation, delegates from the secret summit, and selected journalists approved by the Secret Services. These journalists had helped hack phones and emails to create evidence against Jess.

The Archbishop, Church Leaders, and their staff sat at a large table with Government representatives and Secret Service agents behind them. Jess faced them alone at a smaller table.

The restaurant owner, upon learning of her arrest from the journalist, contacted a lawyer from the Tower Hamlets Law Centre. The lawyer, an experienced human rights specialist, had represented numerous clients in East London facing racism, wrongful arrest, and other forms of discrimination. She was aware of Jess but had not met her until that evening. She swept in past the security guards and minions in the Archbishop’s Palace with such authority that they allowed her to sit down next to Jess.

Jess faced several accusations regarding her theological stance and beliefs. The interrogation scrutinized her support for gay marriage, questioned her critical perspective on Church authority, and challenged her relativist approach to the distinctiveness of Christianity, particularly in relation to what she termed the Great Emergence, especially throughout her three days of action.

Despite numerous ecclesiastical criticisms, she simply suggested that her detractors speak to the thousands who supported and agreed with her. This response further incensed her opponents, leading to increasingly outrageous charges against her. Her lawyer interjected at this juncture, inquiring about the legal standing of the hearing and the authority under which her client was being arrested and detained.

The lawyer’s name was Josephine Akubu. She spoke with an inherent authority, not merely derived from her credentials, which compelled the Archbishop to respond.

All the while Jess sat motionless.

‘I am sorry Ms….’

‘Akubu, Josephine Akubu of the Tower Hamlets Law Centre’.

‘Well Ms Akubu, this is an informal hearing. Ms Jennings has caused significant controversy for both the Church and the Country, and we need to establish the facts for proper discussion in Synod.’

Jess suddenly stirred.

‘I have been available to speak with you at any time upon request. However, you chose to arrest me at night with few witnesses present, using what looked like a specialized tactical unit, and that I have been held in these restraints.’

She held up her cable tied hands.

The Archbishop winced and shifted in his seat.

‘The manner of your apprehension was not my choice’ he glanced at a dark suited advisor, ‘I agree it is regrettable, and I have asked that you be released from the restraints, and I ask that again.’

The man in the dark suit signalled to one of the operatives, who then cut the wrist restraints. Josephine rose to her feet and addressed the assembled men and women before her.

‘My client has not expressed any allegiance or sought membership of any churches represented here and has not engaged in any violent activities. She has communicated with thousands of people publicly or on open websites and social media platforms. What threat does she pose to national security or church order?’

The Archbishop paused momentarily before the Catholic Cardinal leaned over to whisper to him privately. The Archbishop reacted strongly to the exchange, appearing visibly perturbed. He then turned to one of the prominent evangelical priests, known for his large congregations nationwide and vocal criticism of Jess. Again, the Archbishop seemed disconcerted by the exchange.

Gradually, he straightened in his seat as if making a decision. Turning towards Jess, he inquired,

‘We have heard rumours from many sources that those who go around with you and others you have had contact with believe you to be, and I hardly dare say it as it seems so ridiculous, that you think you are Jesus Christ the Son of God somehow returned. Theologically this is madness,’ he looked at the Evangelical Priest and the Cardinal as he said this, ‘but I have to ask you is that who you think you are?’

There was a long and drawn-out silence, the air became thick with expectation.

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, her words lingering in the room before she concluded, ‘Watching me is seeing his truth revived in a world that has mostly forgotten his purpose.’

The Evangelical Priest leapt to his feet demanding

‘For goodness sake do we need to listen to anymore, she has hanged herself with her own words, how on earth could the Lord Jesus Christ have anything to do with this woman. “Many will come in my name saying I am he” says the Lord in Mark chapter thirteen, verse six. This woman is either mad or very dangerous, either way she must be stopped, what are you going to do Archbishop convene another committee?’

The Catholic Bishops, the Cardinal, and all Church representatives expressed their unanimous condemnation.

The Archbishop made one final attempt.

‘You presumably believe that you are acting in accordance with Christ’s spirit. However, it is important to understand that Christ established the Church to lead us in faith and guide our actions.’

‘Please refrain from responding to that question,’

Josephine interjected.

‘It appears that their intention is to incriminate you by any means possible.’

Jess placed her hand on the lawyer’s shoulder and smiled before rising to her feet.

‘The Great Change that Jesus embodied is embodied in me too. It is embodied in all those who are willing to turn towards it like a sailing ship turning into the wind. You have all forgotten what a wild and untamed spirit that wind is. I have come to take everything this suicidal system can throw at me. Jesus is not a religion, he came to put an end to that way of doing things, if you want to be part of the Great Turning you don’t worship Jesus, you live him.

The thing that saddens me most is that you and so many of your colleagues have collaborated with the system and then you call that collusion service, when it is really self-preservation and the preservation of your positions at the top of the system with all the power, privilege and prestige that gives you. Worst of all most of you cannot see this truth as you started from a good place and have become slowly blind. The Great Emergence does not need your institutions in fact most of the time they block its presence. I am here to serve notice that the Great Turning will undermine, from the inside, the whole rotten system and believe me, the love that drives that Change cannot be snuffed out.’

The Archbishop, known for his impartiality, sat in his chair with a sense of defeat. The individuals surrounding him gathered closely for a brief discussion, after which he raised his hand.

‘I had intended to arrange for your release, allowing you to provide evidence to the synod at a later date. However, I am unable to do so due to constraints beyond my control. It is as my esteemed colleagues have asserted, absolutely unorthodox to do and say what you have here tonight and in the last few weeks. I do not believe you are the threat to national security as the government and the security services say you are. However, you are a threat to the good honest faith of our people. As such I must declare you barred from any Church under my jurisdiction, you cannot speak on our property, and we denounce your work’.

The other leaders stood up one by one, echoing similar sentiments, interdicts and condemnations.

The government’s National Security advisor concluded by thanking the Archbishop for his hospitality and assistance in apprehending a dangerous individual. He announced that Jess would be brought to the Houses of Parliament to appear before an Intelligence and Security Select Committee to address charges of inciting terrorism.

^[1] A South Yorkshire expression for running away.

^[2] A quote from Tagore

Accompanying Material

‘The Eucharist presents us with a paradox. Jesus gave a challenging spiritual meaning to the festive meal of the Jews commemorating their liberation from slavery in Egypt. In bequeathing this to the community of his follow-ers, Jesus manifested his genius as a spiritual leader of humanity. For two thousand years the churches have continued to celebrate the Eucharist in his memory. The Eucharist has been, and is, offered under diverse situa-tions. Hundreds of millions all over the world meet every Sunday, year after year. Millions of men, women, and children have drawn personal inspiration through the centuries from the Eucharist and from prayer to Jesus present in the tabernacles the world over.

On the other hand, Christians have divided themselves into different sects partly on their views concerning the Eucharist. Wars of religion have marred the history of the followers of Jesus. But even more tragic is the way in which the Eucharist has been domesticated within the dominant social establishments of the day. Its radical demands have been largely neutralized. Its cutting edge has been blunted. Worse still, it has been and is being used as a legitimation of cruel exploitation. Many have given up frequenting the Sunday Eucharist, especially in the western countries. The working classes feel alienated from it and by it.

An agonizing question presents itself to our minds. Why is it that in spite of hundreds of thousands of eucharistic celebrations, Christians continue as selfish as before? Why have the “Christian” peoples been the most cruel colonizers of human history? Why is the gap of income, wealth, knowledge, and power growing in the world today-and that in favor of the “Christian” peoples? Why is it that persons and people who proclaim eucharistic love and sharing deprive the poor people of the world of food, capi-tal, employment, and even land? Why do they prefer cigarettes and liquor to food and drink for the one-third of humanity that goes hungry to bed each night? Why are cars, cosmetics, pet dogs, horses, and bombs preferred to human children?’'

‘“Do this in commemoration of me.” Jesus gave this mandate to his apostles at the Last Supper. This was full of meaning. He was participating in a meal-the paschal meal. Through this he was sharing with them the secret of his life. He explained to them the cause for which he lived and struggled. The next forty-eight hours saw his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. He died because he stood firmly for integral human liberation and fulfillment. He courageously opposed every form of oppression and injustice.

His obedience to God his Father was in this service to humanity. He wanted his followers to do likewise.’

from The Eucharist and Human Liberation - Tissa Balasuriya

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imagining what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to be set in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Click Here for Podcast Episode

Thirteenth Report - London - April 2024

The Manager invited her into one of the cinemas in Leicester Square. He was thoroughly impressed by her eloquence, but noticed that the Police were becoming concerned about the growing crowd. Various groups, including Anarchists and Socialist Workers, began attending her gatherings, leading to minor conflicts. The Manager wished for the general public to hear her without disturbance (unfortunately, he lost his job over this matter). Inside the cinema, she shared a story.

‘Today I sat with a woman in Westminster Cathedral who spends her pension money every day on meals for homeless people. She takes them to a café and listens to their stories as they eat. That’s true generosity. And let me tell you, the religious leaders didn’t even notice her when I brought them over. There are none so blind as those who will not see!’

Someone in the cinema remarked,

‘Aren’t those Churches meant to glorify God and to stand as a testament of faith throughout London?’

Jess responded,

‘In my view, these buildings often become obstacles. That woman’s actions symbolise the Great Turning, integrating it into this fractured world. While buildings may serve as markers, even the best can become distorted and misdirected. Ultimately, they will turn to rubble, whereas her actions are etched in another person’s heart, making them permanent.’

The cinema session concluded, and the group returned to Saint Paul’s. Jess and her friends and assistants thanked everyone for their efforts as the three days of activities drew to a close. Many participants asked her to continue, but she explained that although more events were planned, this particular moment had ended, and she acknowledged that many had families and jobs to return to.

‘This is like the sea receding before a tsunami. We’ve only seen the initial waves; soon a tidal wave will follow. You need to wait, watch for signs, and be ready.’

Many defied her instructions and continued to occupy the Cathedral and other parts of the City, angering the authorities. The Church leaders took legal action to have them forcibly removed.

Jess led her followers back to their East End accommodation. While having supper at a Brick Lane café with a generous Bangladeshi family, her closest friends asked her,

‘How can we tell if the Great Turning has begun? What signs should we look for?’

After the meal, everyone relaxed and waited eagerly for Jess to speak. She settled into her chair and began.

‘This is the Great Challenge to open the eyes of the soul and see what is really going on. So many people are full of predictions, and fundamentalists of every kind claim that this event or that portent marks the beginning of some awful apocalypse.

Do you know? Some of them even put money into the state of Israel so that some fancy biblical geography is fulfilled and the so-called rapture will come. Others fly planes into towers. All of them think destruction is the gateway to change.

They couldn’t be more wrong. The Great Turning is a quiet revolution. The system is slowly collapsing, becoming self-destructive and creating victims who feel powerless to change it.

The system’s demise is like watching a slow but inevitable forest fire. It appears to destroy everything in its path, leaving behind a burnt and barren landscape. The fall of the system is similar. However, when the fires subside, life eventually returns. This process is necessary for regrowth. Following such events, resilient seeds can germinate, leading to the emergence of new growth. Those in power deny the fire and ignore the burning smell. Yet, facing the charred wilderness reveals the sprouts of a new forest.’

They looked at each other, murmuring and whispering. Jeff asked,

‘What about us? Is what we have been doing over the past three days part of this new forest?’

She addressed everyone with a very serious expression.

‘Yes, it is true. These moments are like birth pangs; they reveal the potential for change. However, I have to tell you that the process may be long and arduous. Courage will be vital. It is a struggle because those in power are resistant to any perspective but their own, and they spend millions to convince the rest of us of their worldview.’

Continuing the Great Turning will challenge their power, but using their methods makes you no different from them. Use love and silence as your tools; actions ultimately speak louder than any media they control. Express your peaceful resistance by living differently. Sustain independence in your mind and heart, where the system cannot reach unless you allow it.

You will find yourselves on the wrong side of many of the powers in this world, and they will attack you. But remember, you will see me prove this very soon - love wins.’

Bounty asked,

‘How will we know when the Great Change is truly happening?”

Jess pondered for a moment, and it seemed she might not respond. However, she then unexpectedly began to speak again.

‘There are some lies that, when you hear them, you will know the system is about to implode. When they say that war is peace-making, that torture is anti-terrorism, that privilege is an inherent right, that poverty and starvation are just the way things are, and that in the real world all these lies are just normality, then you will know insanity has become acceptable. You know what you must do. Make your lives say there is something better, or get out and find other places where you can live a sane life.

‘You will need to stay awake; there are so many forces out there that want to put you back to sleep. If you are awake, you can distinguish the effects of sleeping tablets from those that spark the Great Awakening. Some films and stories serve as breakthrough moments for the Turning, emerging when needed. Once awake, it’s alarming to see how many are still asleep in their lives.’

There will be more calamities and disasters because many have yet to realise that the environment cannot sustain our lifestyle. We depend on nature, and when it turns against us, it may feel like the end of the world. Stay firm; eventually, people will recognise the truth. Many will rise up and demonstrate humanity’s potential.

Those currently in power will fall, while the marginalised will be asked to lead. When it seems the world is ending, true faith becomes essential—faith not in religious doctrines or in the certainty of atheism and science, but faith in the underlying sustainer of reality, faith that emerges when it is most needed.’

The three days of action had completely rattled the powers that be, so much so that the vested interests that hide behind governments and the markets were stung into action. They realised that the Church leaders and even many elected politicians lacked the courage to do what was needed. They decided it was time to do away with Jess Jennings once and for all.

Reports later emerged that a group of wealthy and influential individuals allegedly initiated a plan involving the secret services of Britain and America to act on their behalf. They were believed to hide behind more visible authorities, thus utilising them. These claims were only rumours at the time, enveloped in plausible deniability.

Their covert operatives recommended that the operation be conducted in a more secluded location, rather than in a crowded area where there is a risk of public unrest.

Easter was approaching, and it was suggested that the evening before the Bank Holiday would be ideal. She was scheduled to speak at a large Hyde Park rally the next day to announce the next phase of her Action for Change initiative. The operatives decided to take her only when she was with a small, easily intimidated group.

Accompanying Material

The book of Revelation is an example of a popular literary genre of ancient Judaism, known today as Jewish apocalyptic . Trying to read it without understanding its genre would be like watching Star Trek or some other science-fiction show thinking it was a historical documentary, or watching a sitcom as if it were a religious parable, or reading a satire as if it were a biography— or like thinking you knew all about lions because you watched one pacing on a concrete slab one afternoon. But Jewish apocalyptic itself is part of a larger ecosystem known as literature of the oppressed . When you read Revelation first in its native niche of Jewish apocalyptic, and then in its native ecosystem of literature of the oppressed, it comes alive and you see it in a fresh way. Instead of being a book about the distant future, it becomes a way of talking about the challenges of the immediate present. It becomes a book of warnings and promises.3 The original readers of Revelation lived in constant threat of religious oppression from the religious authorities and the Roman Empire. In that environment, you can’t speak—and certainly can’t write—a word of criticism against the government and other authorities; if you are caught with such subversive literature in your possession, you’ll be imprisoned, maybe killed. But if you don’t speak or write about your oppression, your oppressors have succeeded in controlling you, silencing you, intimidating you. Is there any alternative? Yes, and this is the genius of literature of the oppressed in general and of apocalyptic literature in particular.

McLaren, Brian D.. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

If you read the Gospels in this light, I believe you will agree that Jesus’ warnings come together in a coherent and satisfying way—far more coherent and satisfying than the conventional approaches. Yes, Jesus uses apocalyptic language that sounds like it’s talking about the literal end of the world. But when we understand the way the genre works—when we interpret a sitcom as a sitcom, science fiction as science fiction, and opera as opera— we realize that Jesus is speaking pointedly, and in a way his contemporaries would understand, about concrete political realities. And as anyone who knows history will realize, the scenario Jesus described did in fact occur. His countrymen did not trust him or follow him. They rejected both his promises and his warnings. They did not accept his radical alternative to violence, accommodation, or isolation. Jesus himself realizes this will be the case as he descends to Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday, and he begins to weep and says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem! If only you knew what makes for peace!” Because they rejected his way, tensions did rise. The Zealots did stage a revolt in AD 67. The Romans did come in and crush Jerusalem and destroy the temple and wipe out the historic temple system of sacrifice. For the Jews of that day, the moon did turn to blood and the stars did fall from the sky—these events were truly (but not literally) “earth-shattering.” So then, what are we left with to say about the future, if the apocalyptic passages of the Gospels and of Revelation are not simply coded timelines of the future?5 We are left with something far more powerful and important—we are left with a balance of promises and warnings, a sense of profound empowerment and responsibility, and a sobering choice.

McLaren, Brian D.. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything.

Here is the YouTube link to the documentary I mentioned: Praying for Armageddon.

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imagining what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to be set in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Access Podcast

Twelfth Report London - April 2024

After shaking hands, she left the offices with her friends. The delegation, initially stunned, quickly gathered their papers and followed her outside to see what would happen next.

Seeing them right behind her, she turned and said,

‘If you are still curious, come with me. I want to show you something.’

She took them to Westminster Cathedral and walked down the aisle. She then sat down next to an elderly woman, surrounded by carrier bags, wearing worn shoes and a dirty raincoat. She put her arm around the woman’s shoulder and stayed there for a good ten minutes. They all stood there, looking like spare parts. She stood, glanced at the building’s grandeur, and walked back towards the door. They trailed behind like irritable schoolchildren.

‘What did you just see?’

They were confused,

‘We didn’t see anything,’ they said. ‘You just went into the church, sat down with that old woman, and then left again. You never said a word.’

‘How can you be so blind?’

She admonished them.

She took them to a coffee shop and sat them down.

‘I want to tell you a story’

She said, so they all pulled out notebooks and laptops, hoping she would incriminate herself.

‘There was once a great oak, a legendary tree, yet for many, many years it produced no acorns.’

It was prophesied that when an acorn finally grew, it would be the most powerful and magical thing the world had ever seen.

People built a great fence around the tree and held ceremonies to worship it.

A whole class of clerics emerged, dedicated to perpetuating the worship of the tree.

Kings would dedicate their victories in battle to the acorn that was to come.

The Great High Keeper of the Tree was more important than almost anyone else in the entire world.

One day, a young rebel came who saw things differently. He managed to climb the tree and found, in the topmost branches, an acorn.

The Great High Keeper of the Tree, all the functionaries of the Tree Precinct, and those who lived around the tree (deriving huge profits from the pilgrims) were furious.

As the young man plucked the acorn unseen by any of them, they threw ropes around the branch he was on, and it fell with a great crash.

The young man was killed, and his friends took his body away, only to find the acorn still in his hand. When they told the people, some believed and some refused, saying it was a lie and a sacrilege against the Great Tree and its High Keeper.

Those who had the acorn kept it and placed it in a mountain shrine, and gradually the new Religion of the Acorn grew.

Those original friends became known as the Custodians of the Acorn, and those to whom they passed the role of Custodian also became venerated and powerful, and, of course, in time very wealthy.

The acorn gradually shrivelled and lost its vitality.

Many years later, a woman came and told them she had a message from the Great Mother of both Tree and Acorn.

The Acorn was for planting, she said, so that many trees would grow and all people would find shelter, and the oxygen of life the trees would provide would change the world.

Even now, she said, the acorn, if planted, would grow.

Both the Keepers of the Tree and the Custodians of the Acorn were enraged, and they joined forces, saying that if they did not get rid of her, they would lose their power. So they plotted and plotted and finally had her killed.

She paused, looking at them all. Then she asked:

‘What do you think the people of the world will feel about the Keepers and Custodians?

Don’t you think the majority will believe that all their ceremonies and power games were a waste of time, or worse, a distraction from the truth? Even more terrible, all those poor people who could have benefited from the planting will have been betrayed and will never trust them again.

I’m sure you have heard the cliché ‘hidden in plain sight’. Well, that is the truth about you people. It is staring you in the face, and you avoid it at all costs.’

They were enraged by this story, knowing it was aimed at them. They stormed out of the coffee shop and returned to the Church Leaders, seething with anger and resolved to do something about her.

The following day, the final day of action, she returned to St. Paul’s to coordinate with the teams monitoring demonstrations targeting financial institutions. She emphasised the importance of identifying Agents of Change who could both inspire the public and learn to undertake actions that were both symbolic and effective. To support their training, she recorded numerous social media posts and videos. She consistently reiterated that the movement had to transcend the influence of any single individual, stating that this effort represented the Republic of Hope.

Number Ten sent advisers to question her. Since she refused interviews, it was difficult for the client media to ask their adroit and crafty questions.

During one of her sessions on the steps of the Cathedral, one of the advisers interrupted her and said, ‘We know you don’t do press interviews. We also know that you are indifferent to public opinion and are not afraid to be completely open about many matters. We wanted to know this – should people who cheat the benefits system be reported and locked up?’

Jess addressed the group of business professionals, saying,

‘Do you see that young man over there?’

She pointed to someone sitting in a recovery circle—a place where individuals could share their experiences and seek help for their addictions.

‘He recently lost his job at a hotel where he worked as a dishwasher. How much is he entitled to receive if he applies for Universal Credit?’

They discussed quietly among themselves, and then the original questioner responded:

‘We would need his specific details, including his earnings and whether he has savings; it is quite complex.’

‘Would it exceed one hundred and fifty pounds per week?’ She asked.

‘Certainly not,’

He responded, visibly taken aback.

‘Let me ask another question. What were your expenses for last week?’

The man appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

‘That is irrelevant to the matter of benefit fraud. Please answer the question.’

‘I suspect it was well over a hundred pounds, perhaps even exceeding one hundred and fifty. Therefore, tell me this: what differentiates a benefit fraudster from an advisor who employs a tax accountant to minimise tax liability?’

‘Such an advisor acts within the confines of the law,’

The man retorted, rising from his seat in agitation, sending his papers scattering.

‘Indeed, the law is crafted by individuals like yourself and serves your interests. Those with negligible resources become easy targets. It is shameful; you should administer justice rather than pursue personal ambition. Remember: justice cannot be manipulated for self-serving purposes and still be relied upon when needed. Have the courage to subsist on benefits for a week, then reconsider your question.’

The crowd erupted into spontaneous applause as the man sat down, flushed and irate.

A spontaneous question-and-answer session ensued, during which a humanist guy stood up and put a question to her.

‘Don’t you think that religions are the cause of much of the evil in the world and that the best thing you could do is encourage people to finally abandon them in favour of a life of reason and rationality?’

She paused for a moment, then responded:

‘Many people like you seem to want to hide in the new glass house called science, thinking it is an impenetrable fortress, and to throw bricks at the great greenhouses of religion. Has reason and rationality dealt with the abuse of power, the rape of the planet, or unlocked the secrets of death? That’s why people go on the Great Journey; yes, religions have often turned that journey into a stick to beat good people with. But if you throw out the baby with the bath water, you are in danger of being as benighted as many of those you despise. Remember, it is very easy to become what you hate.’

A Roman Catholic Bishop was present who had publicly challenged his colleagues to apologise for the child abuse scandal. He suggested that the Pope wear a black cassock as a symbol of sorrow and proposed selling Church assets to compensate victims. As a result, many in the Church hierarchy ostracised him. However, Jess had caught his interest, and he asked her a question:

‘Miss Jess, what do you think matters most in life?’

Jess looked him in the eye for a long time and then answered:

‘Love, and by love, I mean a willingness to go beyond judgement, beyond prejudice, beyond self-protection, beyond being nice, beyond so-called security. The love a mother feels when holding her newborn child in her arms is such that she would die for that little life.’

She paused, saying,

‘If we could show tough, unwavering love to each other, especially to the most vulnerable—people, animals, or the planet—we would be in tune with the very reason for our existence.’

The Bishop sighed, replying,

‘What you have said is so right. Love is the essence; I would say that God is love, and that when you love, you are one with God. In the Church, we seem to have forgotten the essence of true love, often believing that we are the sole path to salvation. However, genuine love, wherever it is expressed, serves as a gateway to a truly good life. Love means healing victims’ wounds and dismantling the system that causes the pain.’

Jess was surprised.

‘I use the term “love” because the word “God” has been so misused that it is almost devoid of meaning. Love is a dynamic force, permeating and enveloping us; it is the means to transform the world and the essential catalyst of the Great Turning. You contribute to this Great Emergence when you act in this way.’

After the session ended, many reporters rushed to file their stories. Saint Paul’s had become a major media focus, although few read their stories because of the fast . Her social media feeds were where most went for news. The government and politicians sent more people to listen and report back. Security services monitored her and her friends, while corporations hired private investigators to look into her, seeing her as an increasing threat.

The weather was unexpectedly warm, so she positioned herself in Trafalgar Square and addressed the crowds through a public address system hired by some of her helpers.

‘It has been repeatedly asserted that there is no alternative to the current system; the same system that deprives millions of basic necessities, degrades the planet’s life-sustaining complexity, and prioritises the buying and selling of commodities over people’s well-being and happiness.

However, I am here to affirm that, with human creativity and imagination, alternatives can certainly be conceived. The issue lies in the system’s inability to tolerate competition, which leads it to deploy mechanisms designed to eliminate any potential threats. These mechanisms manifest as corporations and institutions that aim to maintain a concentrated group in power while seeking to persuade the populace that their approach is the sole viable option.’

The audience applauded enthusiastically. The attendees represented various sectors of society, reflecting the nation’s broad demographic. This diversity was notably observed by those who were beginning to oppose Jess and her initiatives.

‘You see,’

She continued,

‘It is all a matter of perspective, the point from which you view the world we live in. Edlington offers a unique vantage point. If you have always been at the pinnacle, attended prestigious schools, graduated from the country’s top universities, and interacted with people from similar backgrounds, that shapes your perception.

If you don’t know what a job centre smells like, what it is like to take food out of a shopping basket and put it back on the shelf, what cheap shoes feel like, or the look in a child’s eyes when you tell them you can’t afford their dreams, then what qualifies you to be in charge?

Just watch those who are in charge, the wealthy, the influential, and the privileged. Unless they free themselves from the blindness that being at the top of the system causes, they are capable of the most horrendous atrocities whilst being totally blind to the damage they cause.’ Even more concerning is that we have been led to believe this is the only possible reality. We have been made to feel so uninformed that we hesitate to question it, preferring passive activities such as watching television and playing games to taking meaningful action that could establish a Republic of Hope.

The Great Journey demands a fresh perspective, which is often hardest for those at the top, who have the most to lose.

Accompanying Material

The most striking, resented, and dangerous of Jesus’ activities was his opposition to religion as that was understood in his time. This is what led to his death. Religion killed him. He opposed all formalisms in worship—ritual purifications, sacrifice, external prayer and fasting norms, the Sabbath and eating codes, priesthoods, the Temple, and the rules of Sadducees, Pharisees, and Scribes. He called authentic only the religion of the heart, the inner purity and union with the Father that he had achieved and was able to share with his followers.

What Jesus Meant: Garry Wills.

In refusing to draw or respect racial, religious, moral, ethnic, economic, or class barriers, in welcoming non-Jews and treating them with kindness and respect, in eating with both Pharisees and the prostitutes hated by the Pharisees, Jesus shows his primal kinship with all people—a kind of second Adam who seeks to bring people together after so many centuries of distrust and division. In healing the sick and raising the dead, in performing exorcisms and confronting injustice, in interacting miraculously with the forces of nature, Jesus even identifies himself with the story’s original and ultimate hero—God—stating that those who had seen him had in some real way seen God, declaring that he and God were one, and suggesting that through him, God was launching a new world order, a new world, a new creation. These are not the words and ways of a polite teacher, no matter how brilliant. They go far beyond the claims of a typical priest, poet, or philosopher—and even beyond the bold words of a normal prophet or reformer. These are the primal, disruptive, inspiring, terrifying, shocking, hopeful words and ways of a revolutionary who seeks to overthrow the status quo in nearly every conceivable way. Jesus’ words indicate that what has been known as impossible is now becoming not only possible but actual.

The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything: Brian D McLaren

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

To Access Podcast

Eleventh Report London - April 2024

As they neared London, Jess’s plans quickly took shape.

Her sharing at the Jewish Cultural Centre was highly controversial. The Great Change, she said, was not about building walls or appropriating land, no matter what scriptures could be quoted to support anyone’s claims. No, the Great Peace was to be gained by pulling down walls and building shared homes. Land was holy when there was justice, and life, all life, was sacred, especially innocent life. Those in the building were astonished by the force of her words and by the way she invited those present to listen to each other, both the Jewish leaders in the centre and the pro-Palestinian protesters she had asked to be allowed in. She kept referring to the scapegoating monster that only ever created more victims. Some press sources reported that she was a Palestinian activist, while others mentioned that she was considering converting to Judaism.

The following day, she began the first stages of her plan. She decided to ride a bicycle from the end of the M1 motorway at the Brent Cross Shopping Centre into central London, culminating in a gathering in Trafalgar Square.

The event was called the Ride for Change. A website had been set up, and details were quickly spreading on social media. On that day, the President of the USA was scheduled to arrive for a state visit and be transported from Downing Street to Buckingham Palace. Jess planned her arrival in central London to coincide with that journey.

The following morning, she had planned to meet in the car parks and waste ground around the Brent Cross Shopping Centre. Her comrades anticipated a few hundred people; however, they were surprised to see thousands had gathered, including men, women, and a significant number of children, all with their bikes. The police were caught off guard as people flooded onto the motorway, overwhelming their attempts to block the entrance. The traffic gradually slowed and eventually came to a standstill because of the large number of bicycles.

Jess, riding at the head of the column, used a megaphone to address the participants, explaining that their actions were part of the Great Emergence. She stressed that meaningful change occurs when people commit wholeheartedly to their struggles, calling it ‘soul-force’. Jess also cited figures such as Gandhi and Martin Luther King to support her point. She led them in chants about the Great Turning, their voices rising like a tidal wave over central London.

As they approached the centre, the police were already ahead, using outriders and cars to stop traffic and manage the situation. The President’s motorcade, which included him and the Prime Minister, had to stop and wait for three-quarters of an hour, causing them to be late for the King.

When Jess arrived in Trafalgar Square, she sat astride one of the lions. Using a megaphone, she addressed the crowds about the Great Change. The crowds cheered and applauded, asking for more.

They repeated the chants she had taught them. She then led a twenty-minute silent meditation. The sight of thousands of people standing, sitting, and closing their eyes in meditation drew many tourists to what she called the Great Silence. She regularly practised this with her followers, explaining that the Great Silence was essential to the Great Emergence and would foster the Great Turning.

After the silence, Jess and her comrades headed towards Westminster Abbey. They tried to enter for quiet meditation but found they had to pay an entrance fee because they were not attending a service. Consequently, Jess turned away, visibly irked.

She and her friends slipped away from the crowds and took the tube to East London. There, the Brick Lane Mosque invited her to speak to them about the scapegoating monster. They gave her an hour to meditate before she shared her thoughts.

The media were captivated; it had been a while since anyone had sparked such a public reaction. Evening news featured Jess leading her bike procession onto the M1, with people chanting in Trafalgar Square. This story overshadowed the President and Prime Minister’s sound bites, showing them stuck in traffic instead.

The following day, while she was on her way back on the tube into central London, she noticed a large church set back from the road and decided to go in to meditate. However, the church was locked, and every door she tried was shut and bolted.

She was extremely angry and shouted at the building’s grand double doors,

‘You had the opportunity to open your doors and allow those in need to enter and find peace. Now, you will never be opened again.’

Her friends exchanged puzzled glances and shrugged, but they remembered her words.

They exited the tube station and proceeded towards St Paul’s Cathedral. Her arrival was anticipated as her followers had distributed emails and texts informing everyone to assemble on the steps of St Paul’s at eleven for Jess’s instructions. This information was also shared on a Great Turning website created by some of them and on numerous WhatsApp feeds.

A large crowd had gathered, spilling onto the roads and causing a traffic delay. Her supporters had set up a portable public address system, and she began to address the crowd about the system around them. She pointed at the skyscrapers of the stock market and major banks, saying the system drained people’s lives by creating billions of losers and only handfuls of winners.

She then addressed the politicians, informing the crowds that they had failed to bring about the Great Change, or even small changes! They had accepted the status quo without a clear vision of how things could be.

She pointed to the steeples and the cathedral dome. She wept, saying the Churches had failed because, despite being closest to the Great Turning vision, they had not accepted it. She went on to say that many of the Church Leaders had been infected with the same disease as the Bankers and the Politicians - the desire to protect themselves and their positions rather than caring for the weakest and least.

She announced the establishment of a new entity, the Republic of Hope.

She stated, ‘The Republic of Hope was founded thousands of years ago, and I intend to restore its credentials.

The universe is a place of beauty and wonder, and our planet sits in the scintilla of possibilities, in that narrow band of fortune, where she offers life to all who live on her.

Greed and a relentless desire for prestige, power, and possessions have turned paradise into a living nightmare for more and more people, except the very wealthy, who live in constant fear of losing their wealth and fight harder and harder to protect it.

Today I want us all to begin a reboot of the system, to show how we could reprogramme life on this planet and find the lost Garden of Eden.’

She instructed her friends in the crowd to launch a campaign called Action for Change, which involved sending out a barrage of social media posts to all her online followers. The response was momentous. Many individuals opened bank accounts with £10 deposits and then closed them, both in branches and online. They began buying individual shares and then selling them. Any profits made were donated to charity. They visited banks and currency exchange offices to convert small amounts of money into foreign currencies, which they then exchanged back into sterling at other outlets. All this and other creative activities caused significant disruptions within the financial system, leading to concerns in the stock market.

Thousands of people began emailing CEOs of major companies, demanding that they clean up their practices. This prompted picketing at city-centre shops and malls, urging three ‘zero shopping days’ when people refrained from non-essential shopping to benefit the planet. This action also led to a significant drop in online purchasing.

Furthermore, her people visited the head offices of multinational corporations, finance houses, major banks, and internet companies, requesting meetings with top management to discuss their decisions on tax, corporate responsibility, and their salaries.

Many of these individuals, who referred to themselves as Agents for Change, were accompanied by news cameras and reporters. This made it difficult for security guards to remove them, particularly because some were mothers with toddlers and others were disabled people.

Jess and her team launched a national campaign called Homes for Change. They managed to unite housing charities and builders to lobby banks for loans to build or refurbish houses, creating jobs and homes.

The final act of the drama around the banks was the installation of a large Perspex box in front of the Bank of England. A clear plastic box, approximately ten feet square, was built with a letterbox-sized opening on the side. Members of the public were invited to donate ten per cent of their weekly salaries, and an online request was made for city executives to do the same. While this was a relatively small amount for many individuals, it was a more substantial contribution for those earning over one hundred thousand pounds a year. The funds were allocated as one-off grants to support individuals who had lost their jobs or faced financial hardship due to the cost-of-living crisis. The goal was to help them establish new cooperatives and revitalise their lives and local economies. The community and enlightened business leaders created a new trust to oversee donations. After three days, twelve boxes of cash and numerous pledges from executives were collected, along with millions of pounds donated online.

The media companies were also targeted by the Agents’ initiatives. A digital campaign was launched advocating a three-day boycott of all news platforms, including television, online sources, and newspapers. Additionally, an email campaign was directed at editors, demanding a wholesale overhaul of their approach to news delivery. News organisations were urged to stop paying for stories.

More controversially, it was proposed that the major press and business monopolies be dismantled and transitioned to cooperative ownership. This development made it clear to the media authorities that, unexpectedly and without their help, her message had gained far more traction than anticipated. Through word of mouth and social media, she mobilised people through numerous small gatherings, countless WhatsApp groups, social media pages, and email campaigns.

By the end of the first day, the FTSE 100 had fallen by twenty per cent, and financial commentators began referring to the situation as the London Contagion as it began to affect other countries. Throughout the day, as each country became aware of the news and the actions spread to other countries, even the Dow Jones experienced similar declines, as did markets globally. The authorities dismissed these campaigns as insignificant and issued press releases stating that normality would soon be restored. Many people, nevertheless, did not see these statements due to the media boycott. However, it subsequently reported that the markets were severely affected by these events. The unpredictable nature of the actions led to uncertainty and widespread concern on trading floors and in investment houses.

Among the thousands gathered outside St Paul’s, many marched towards parliament and engaged in a mass lobby of Members of Parliament. They had a single request: that politicians observe a twenty-four-minute silence in the chamber as an act of solidarity with those worldwide who have suffered economic hardship since the 2009 crash, the subsequent austerity measures, and the current cost-of-living crisis.

They asked each Member of Parliament who wished to participate to stand in silence, thereby committing to finding a way to reform the system so that ordinary citizens would not bear the consequences of decisions made by unaccountable oligarchs, executives, and plutocrats.

The scheduled time for this event was three pm. It spread globally, with members of both houses in the USA observing their own twenty-four-minute silence, though many were unaware that it had originated on the steps of St Paul’s and from an unemployed hairdresser from Edlington.

A related initiative was the 24-hour ceasefire, organised by some agents for change and promoted via a dedicated website. It was set for the second day of Jess’s three-day campaign.

Various outlets, reporters and influencers picked it up, quickly posting comments. Within hours, it became a major headline on Al Jazeera, spreading across the Middle East to Yemen, then to Africa, Sudan and beyond.

It called upon everyone who wished to honour God to demonstrate their faith by ceasing hostilities and fasting during daylight hours. Many Muslims sensed it was akin to Ramadan and observed it as a tribute to the Prophet.

Each religious group regarded this as proof of their faith’s authenticity. The Israelis marked it as a day of atonement, while many Hindus celebrated it as the ultimate Diwali, symbolising the triumph of good over evil. Even more astonishing was that people of all faiths, and those with none, sensed their chance to shine. Even gangs in Juarez, Mexico, laid down their weapons for the day. This initiative came from ordinary soldiers and fighters, not from the leaders, who often ordered the fighting to continue.

In the weeks after Jess’s days of action, pictures were shown across the world of ordinary Ukrainian and Russian soldiers in the middle of no man’s land, sharing bread. In Jerusalem, checkpoints were left unmanned, leading to a remarkable moment captured in a photograph: a Palestinian woman breaking her fast at sunset offered bread to a female IDF soldier, who accepted it and subsequently allowed aid lorries into the Gaza Strip. This act of individual goodwill spread rapidly among combatants, independent of any official directives. Many governments were unnerved by these developments.

The final action announced that day was delivered by Jess to the crowd gathered outside the grand church. Although simple in nature, it significantly disturbed the Churches and their leaders.

Her message announced Three Days of Amnesty. People could seek forgiveness for harm or damage caused, meeting in sacred places such as churches, mosques, synagogues, gurdwaras, temples, stone circles, or any sacred space, provided the affected person agreed.

Once there, they could discuss or address the issues needed to make amends. The injured party had to participate willingly, without coercion. This caused significant disruption in many religious buildings, particularly churches, as priests and leaders were compelled to open their doors for seventy-two hours or risk appearing unsupportive of such a worthy cause. Services were overwhelmed by individuals returning stolen goods, expressing remorse, and working to mend broken relationships. Many regular worshippers were put out to find their buildings so full, and some even locked the amnesty seekers out during worship! Regrettably, an increasing number of regular congregants perceived this as indicative of a cult centred around Jess and therefore dismissed it outright.

People from across the country reunited with family members they hadn’t spoken to in years at sacred places in towns and villages. This amnesty movement also spread across Europe, the USA, and beyond. To the police’s surprise, it became a time for people to hand over illegal weapons, drugs, pornography, and other illicit materials. Churches and places of worship were suddenly flooded with contraband.

During those three days, Jess and her friends camped on the steps of the great Church of St Paul’s, which subsequently became a focal point for various activities. Hundreds of homeless individuals joined those who adopted what came to be known as “Jess’s Way”.

People called the steps ‘Sleeping Bag Central’ as it filled with cardboard shelters and rough sleepers, not just homeless people but individuals from all walks of life who wanted to be part of the movement. The police had difficulty dispersing them, as the actions were so widely supported.

As followers of Jess’s Way boycotted official media, numerous reports and websites emerged, along with videos and other creative forms of social networking. People gathered in public spaces to share stories and experiences. Jess began a podcast called the Great Democratisation. On it, she explained that the Great Turning was most evident when no single group or person was in control, allowing everyone to have a voice.

She also initiated the ‘Silence for Change’ programme. This involved her closest comrades producing a series of YouTube videos on finding silence in daily life. Examples included turning off the car radio while driving, waking up twenty minutes earlier to sit in silence with a cup of tea, setting aside silent times together, and switching off the TV to sit quietly for ten minutes. Campaigns were launched to switch off music in public places and to establish silent zones in offices. One of the most popular campaigns was the ‘Stop the Noise and Start to Live’ movement, which advocated fasting from electronic communication at certain times of day and spending more time in nature.

Another aspect of this initiative was ‘Listeners for Change’. Jess’s colleagues had discovered the value of sitting and listening to people, allowing them to express their deepest concerns. They began training others in this fundamental skill. In the evenings, small groups could be seen by torchlight on the steps of the great church, practising this transformative form of listening. Many other initiatives emerged from this movement, small and unreported yet nonetheless very effective. St Paul’s served as a central location for the Days of Amnesty, hosting numerous high-profile events that appeared to occur spontaneously.

A prominent financial institution, known for its commitment to ethical practices, extended an invitation to individuals with poor credit ratings. The initiative aimed to help them manage their debts and to include them in a new programme called Amnesty Banking. This involved having their debts to loan sharks and disreputable companies paid off in return for a seed-bed gift of seven thousand pounds to help them get back into work and onto an even keel. In return, they agreed to continue banking with the ethical bank and to establish cooperative movements aimed at altering trade practices. Booths were set up around St Paul’s to demonstrate this method, and they proved popular as people exchanged services and expertise instead of cash.

The authorities in the Cathedral were horrified as services were disrupted, not to mention the individual amnesty meetings underway. They claimed to be in favour of the work; yet one senior cleric preached a sermon saying that people seemed to have forgotten this was the house of God, not a marketplace.

In a speech closing The Days of Amnesty, Jess addressed the Church Authorities. She emphasised that helping those who are broken and indebted was, in her view, the best form of worship. She asked them to compare the number of people who attended churches during this period with their usual attendance. An increase in attendance was noted across the country and beyond, not only in churches but also in mosques, temples, synagogues, and shrines. Jess highlighted how individuals were creating their own ceremonies of change and reconciliation, using symbols such as water, fire, earth, and light. Wasn’t that the purpose of religion, she asked them, to bind people together again? She told them:

‘You have lost your way; you want the Republic of Love to fit into your boxes so you can dispense it in a way that suits your world view. You fight endless battles over who is acceptable, whether gay or straight, male or female, trans or cisgendered. Love is not interested in that; love doesn’t have a box, just a world created with grace to be shared, written through every atom. Some of you want to live in it, but as long as you live in your boxes, you cannot feel it.’

Many Church Leaders were concerned about their perceived loss of authority. They organised a confidential summit, the details of which emerged later, attended by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Catholic Cardinal of Westminster, and numerous other denominational leaders.

The Government was angered by Jess and her group and demanded action from Church leadership regarding the anarchic behaviour on its premises. The Prime Minister clearly expected a response.Though they referred to them as a rabble, what surprised everyone was the rapid spread of the change and its seemingly coordinated nature. The three days of action demonstrated the potential impact if people embraced the message of the Great Change. Authorities recognised that their fundamental authority to govern was being interrogated.

Jess returned to East London. The elders of the mosque took them out for a meal on Brick Lane, after which they were farmed out to stay with families across Tower Hamlets. The following day, as they prepared to return to the Cathedral, they noticed that the Church she had mentioned had been demolished and was now a pile of rubble.

Rob was surprised and said,

‘Look, the Church you mentioned yesterday is gone, just as you said.’

Jess surveyed the rubble, then turned to her companions.

‘During this Great Emergence, this Great Turning, if you truly commit to it, you will discover a lever and a firm stance capable of overcoming even the most substantial obstacles.

You could repurpose a historic building, such as this church, into a valuable resource for those in need. You could recycle the whole of Canary Wharf and make it a place for people, not for money. You could take a wasteland and turn it into a flowering garden.

But the place to stand is not one of opposition and anger; just watch those MPs on either side of the house, Labour and Conservative. In the end, they become what they hate!

No, stand on the ground of what you are for, what you yearn to see come into reality. Speak to that yearning in those who oppose you. Release them from your judgment, and then there is a chance of real change. The Great Energy flows most freely where there is forgiveness and release.’

Upon returning to central London and St Paul’s, work progressed rapidly. However, a delegation from the secret summit of Church Leaders requested a meeting with her. She and her close comrades were invited to the Church of England Head Offices on Great Smith Street. Upon entering a room with a large boardroom table, she declined to sit at the table and asked that they move to a room without tables and sit in a circle. The delegation had printed agendas and presented a report from the Home Secretary’s advisors, which contained numerous questions about the actions Jess was implementing.

She once again expressed her disapproval of their business approach and suggested,

‘Let us proceed in this manner: you will ask me a question, then I shall ask you one in return, continuing in this way to see if we can’t ultimately arrive at the truth.’

Initially taken aback, they conferred privately before appearing confident they had formulated a question capable of challenging her. ‘Could you please provide your credentials and specify who authorized you to engage in these actions? As far as we can ascertain you don’t even have proper Hairdressing qualifications let alone any kind of degree or professional training.’

Jess looked them in the eye and asked, ‘Where do you and your Churches get your authority?’

They were once again unbalanced and gathered for a brief discussion, paying no attention to Jess who sat calmly across from them.

One of them said

‘If we say it comes from the Bible the Catholics will be upset, if we say from the Bishops and the Pope then the evangelicals will disagree’, they therefore answered:

‘We are not prepared to discuss our authority, it is you who should answer our questions that is the way this works, we ask - you answer’.

She stood up, shook their hands, and said,

‘If you can’t tell me where you get your mandate, then you won’t understand mine. May the Great Emergence illuminate your hearts. Goodbye.’

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Accompanying Material

The power of God—a power of resurrection, a death-destroying power (Mk 12:18-27)—may not be allowed to be subordinated to the power of those who trample and destroy human beings. God is the absolute, and the emperor is not God. We cannot put God and Caesar on the same level. My obligations to Caesar, if any, must be judged by the yardstick of my commitment to God. God is a power diametrically opposed to the power of money (Mt 6:24); Caesar’s power is the appurtenance of money. Total commitment to God demands that I love my neighbor as myself (Mk 12:28-34);

Caesar’s lordship is an exploitative and enslaving power. (This draws our attention to one more interesting thing in this discussion about paying a tax to Caesar. Jesus carries no money!)

Commitment to God delivers us from body-and-soul commitment to any power that deifies a few and disfigures or destroys the majority. Accordingly, this text may not be treated as a pretext for washing our hands of politics. Rather it is an urgent invitation to live the freedom of the daughters and sons of God. The God of Jesus Christ is not in the service of the gods of this world. He is the demand for universal equality, for a communion of sisters and brothers everywhere.

A Poor Man Called Jesus - Jose Cardenas Pallares

The popular title usually given to this episode (the “triumphal entry”) is a misnomer, for the procession is neither unambiguously “triumphal” nor does it actually enter Jerusalem (until the anticlimactic 11:11). The episode, resembling carefully choreographed street theatre, is designed to give intentionally conflicting messianic signals.

Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus

Elephants
We sit on the bank of the silted delta
in the three generations of my family
and watch the pachyderms browsing
on the other bank, surveying us quietly.

Some force has given us the right
to separate them out, those to stay,
those to die and those to migrate,
imposed on us like a judge’s black cap.

The call was one we couldn’t accept,
we were too related to think that
we should judge other mammals
whose lifespan matches our own.

I sensed that there was an offer,
an invitation to incarnation,
to become one of them, to feel
for myself their deepest instincts.

I entered the waters of the delta
feeling the dermal transfiguration,
my skin thickening and my weight
shifting, yet breasting the currents.

The herd watched me and as one
descended the bank and surrounded
me with their generations, with the
wisdom that streams from their past.

As my empathy adjusted to that
of a great beast, speaking in
a rumbling, growling, trumpeting
voice from my great leathery thorax.

I realised as we wallowed together
that they appreciated death and
carried all the souls of their lost
in profound stores of memory.

We begin to form into a line
and head out towards the lagoon,
a luminous blue-green expanse,
each following in the other’s wake.

I realised that what mattered
wasn’t being selected out, no,
it was being part of that string,
a line flowing from a shared story.

Through iteration after iteration
and on through the shimmering
green-blue seas, leaving a lit trail
of glow-wormed incandescence.

Grey bodies carrying ancestors
in their genes, inherited souls,
sweeping into the unknowable,
living the life of the whole herd.

This is the first moment of reflection I have had since the launch of my new collection, Poetry as Resistance. We had nearly sixty folk crowded into the lovely South Street Kitchen in Sheffield’s iconic Park Hill Flats. Poetry was performed, songs were sung, and books were signed and sold. The sun shone through the windows, offering a fine view of the city and creating a lovely spring feel to the occasion. So many faces looking up at me as I attempted to articulate where the idea of Poetry As Resistance came from. My two daughters in the front row, my wife singing next to me, some of my oldest friends at the back, all kinds of creative people, including Andy from our Band Dusk Over Rivelin, who accompanied some of the poems and Wilma’s singing. I was deeply touched by the variety of people who have become an intimate readership.

I recounted the way poetry had found its way into my life fifty years ago. I shared that I had failed miserably at school, and my old friend Graham, a classmate, confirmed my poor performance. However, the one academic triumph was an O-level in English Literature, mainly due to one poet, Dylan Thomas.

Something about these lines captured my young imagination.

I did not fully understand what they meant, but their music — their pure lyrical wonder — exploded in my imagination and made me realise that poetry was like a depth charge in the psyche, whose reverberations could be felt both under the water and, gradually, on the surface of my life. I recounted how, at the age of fifteen, I went on holiday to Carmarthenshire with my mother and her new partner in his purple Triumph Stag. When he fell ill in the first week, we were stranded for a further six weeks until he was well enough to travel. Someone in the local pub mentioned that Dylan Thomas had lived along the coast in Laugharne, and that there was a museum dedicated to his work. Off we went in my Auntie Doll’s little Mini along the winding roads to see it. I remember peering into his preserved writing shed and thinking how wonderful it would be to live the life of a poet, without knowing what that actually entailed.

In a fifteen-year-old body

I came to the Gower,

my unknowing outweighing

any gift with words,

but I was ignited by Dylan.

From We Are Summer’s Children - in Poetry As Resistance

It took me until I was fifty to take the plunge and seek a life in which writing, especially poetry, became a daily expereince. It worked its way into my life, and I realised that the discipline it required led me into my inner world. The fact that I also had a breakdown in 2014, which led me into Jungian analysis, abetted this inward journey. Hence the moniker The Anxious Poet: I realised that I could write into, through, and out of my breakdown. It was deeply cathartic to chart the dimensions and vulnerabilities of my Night Sea Journey. Dreams being the stuff of analysis, I began to work with my nocturnal visitations. The poem above is the fruit of that wrestling, as are many of the other poems in the I Dreamed a Dream section of the collection.

So where do dreams come from?

Questions to be grappled with, like Jacob,

until the envoy agrees to bless you with a revelation.

From Where Do Dreams Come From - in Poetry As Resistance

Some of my most seminal dreams, and those of many people, are of animals. I believe this connection goes right back into our ancestral history; it is in our DNA. If you look at the cave paintings in Lascaux—human art from 17,000 to 20,000 years ago, the Sistine Chapel of prehistory—you witness this symbiotic relationship between the other animals we share this planet with and us. For my 65th birthday, I subscribed to Resurgence & Ecologist, a beautiful periodical that seeks to reconnect us with the living planet. The May/June edition is all about Restorying the World, challenging the Hero Myth as a model for our relationship with the natural world—indeed, challenging the stories that posit our separation from nature, and asserting that we are nature and need to recalibrate that relationship. C.G. Jung, in The Red Book, has to kill the Hero as a way of deepening his relationship to the Self, or Soul, which is our deepest lodestone. My work with my dreams is my attempt at such a recalibration.

‘In taking this journey with story, we create the space and possibility for new kinds of story to emerge, which, as I hope I’ve shown, we need: relational, deeply patterned stories in the plural, that can hold us into the future.’

Changing the Story by Sarah Woods in May/June Resurgence & Ecologist.

I dreamed this dream of the Elephants a couple of years ago, and it has continued to move me deeply. Rendering it in poetic form helped in the process of active imagination advocated by Jungians. One of the processes involved in this, which my Analyst has schooled me in, is to look at both the biological and symbolic meanings of the animals that appear. A book like Elizabeth Caspari’s Animal Life in Nature, Myth and Dreams is a good reference. She says this of the Elephant.

The elephant’s unusual size, amazing strength and superior intelligence conjure up an image of what may actually be available to the dreamer in the personal unconscious, and give that person the courage to face the world in a more positive way.

The first part of the dream/poem addresses the unhealthy and exploitative model we, as Westerners, have inherited. The trouble can be traced right back to the way in which one of our seminal mythical texts has been interpreted. The text says that God gave human beings (made in God’s image and likeness) the Hebrew word is radah (רָדָה) commonly translated as "rule," "have dominion," or "subdue" the earth.

Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, in the likeness of ourselves; and let them rule over the fish in the sea, the birds in the air, the animals, and over all the earth, and over every crawling creature that crawls on the earth.”

Genesis 1:26 - From the Complete Jewish Bible

This is what I am referring to when I use the phrase ‘a judge’s black cap.’ The generations of my family were not ready to accept this imposed dominion. Modern scholarship translates this word radah (רָדָה) as responsible stewardship, active management, and delegated authority in the image of the divine. It represents what many describe as a God-given mandate to bring order out of chaos, cultivate potential, and care for creation as representatives of a loving Creator. Another word might be husbandry or guardianship.

My encounter with these astonishing creatures takes this a step further. It seems to me the unconscious was inviting me into an essential component of any sustainable future relationship. To enter the physicality that any good relationship requires was what the dream world invited me to do. In an amazing synchronicity, while preparing for the book launch, I happened to watch a National Geographic documentary called Searching for Africa’s Ghost Elephants.

This amazing film follows Dr Steve Boyes as he searches for these huge elephants, which may be connected to their ancestors, the mastodons. They meet incredible Kalahari trackers whose traditions preserve these strands of mythical DNA in relation to elephants:

To drive home this sacred connection, he told us the myth of an elephant hunter who went to the Quembo River and came upon a herd. The hunter hid in a tree, and though the elephants passed beneath him, he didn’t shoot.

“Then, behind those elephants, there was another lonely elephant. When it reached the river, it removed its clothing—elephant skin—and started bathing. It was a human being now. She was a beautiful lady. The hunter climbed down and destroyed the elephant’s skin [so that the woman could not change back]. ‘Don’t kill me,’ she begged. ‘From now on, I’ll be your wife.’ The hunter took the woman to his village.”

The story speaks to the elephant’s importance in Indigenous Angolan culture.

My dream took the reverse journey: I became a pachyderm. My family became indissolubly connected to the elephantine by my decision to become one of them. If nothing else, this seemed an invitation to empathy. Not anthropomorphism—projecting our emotions and attitudes onto animals, what my friend calls the Dog Delusion, when I tell my dogs I will be back in an hour. No, this empathy is what might be called fellow feeling. David Abram, in his wonderful book Becoming Animal, expresses what I am struggling to say.

‘Nonetheless, the power of language remains, first and foremost, a way of singing oneself into contact with others and with the cosmos—a way of bridging the silence between oneself and another person, or a startled black bear, or the crescent moon soaring like a billowed sail above the roof. Whether sounded on the tongue, printed on the page, or shimmering on the screen, language’s primary gift is not to re-present the world around us, but to call ourselves into the vital presence of that world-and into deep and attentive presence with one another.’

Becoming Animal - David Abram

My dream/poem brought me into the deep, attentive presence of elephants and an exquisite awareness that is voiced in this stanza.

I realised that what mattered

wasn’t being selected out, no,

it was being part of that string,

a line flowing from a shared story.

We are not the masters of the story; we are co-authors with our fellow mammals, and indeed with all creation. Their threads are woven into our dreams, and we need to wake up and write them into the narratives of consciousness before we tragically and disastrously write ourselves out of it.

My family bought me, for my birthday, a print of a photo taken by Pete Downing from the David Shepherd Wildlife Foundation’s website. It echoes so much of what I saw in my dream. It will serve as a reminder of the many messages the dream world has for us, and more importantly, that we are all living the life of the herd.

If you want to purchase my new collection, you can only do so on my Website.

Click Here

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Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Tenth Episode Podcast Link

Tenth Report Birmingham, Leicester Forest Services April 2024

A Home Office Commission consisting of leading ecclesiastical bureaucrats had replaced the fact-finding mission. Accompanying them were several senior civil servants who aimed to determine if there was any content implying criticism of the Government or whether she could be used to support their agenda. The Roman Catholic Church withdrew from the commission and instead the Vatican appointed a team to investigate her, suspecting her message might not align with Catholic teachings. Meanwhile, influential media outlets sent journalists to dig up information from her past and generally check up on her.

One day in Birmingham, a senior Roman Catholic cleric, Monsignor Smart, interrupted Jess as she was speaking.

‘Do you think divorce should be allowed?’

he asked, trying to catch her out.

She replied, quick as a flash,

‘What does your Church say?’

‘Jesus said what God joins together, no one should separate.’

‘And the state? What does the law say?’

‘The state says yes if you follow the legal processes it establishes; however, that is not considered divine law.’

‘So’ Jess went on, ‘the Roman Catholic Church says no; the Church of England says - in some circumstances; and the state says yes. And you want me to make some great pronouncement? Then I suppose you will follow up with another of your litmus tests, such as the issue of gay marriage?

Jesus told you what he thought, and you have turned that teaching into a way of keeping hurt and broken people just that, hurt and broken.

Even worse, you deny them what you would never deny yourselves, yes, you know what I am talking about – Holy Communion.

I say this to you all. he bond between two lovers can last a lifetime, offering shelter to children, friends, and those in need. This love, which I would call a marriage, whether gay or straight, is defined by its outcomes, not by ceremonies.

If you think you know where it does or doesn’t happen, you are much wiser than I am. What I ask is that you try to support those who want to try it.

Promote love by supporting it wherever you find it, and avoid punishing others for their mistakes, especially when they are already hurt.

For the sake of the little ones involved, whose lives could be forever blighted by their parents’ mistakes, look to help them and don’t create more problems than their slight shoulders can bear.’

While the authorities were upset by her answer, the crowd cheered and wanted to hear more.

While at an Afro-Caribbean community centre, she told her friends and those present:

‘I’m not saying that being unfaithful and hurting each other is without consequences. It always hurts. Rather, I’m emphasising the sacred connection involved in making love, where each partner reflects the other’s deepest soul and appreciates each other’s innate worth and lovability.

This kind of loving relationship helps people find their place in the world and value it, and to share it with others, especially their children. Damaging these relationships causes deep emotional harm, and if unhealed, these wounds are passed on to others, leading to broken relationships, and so it goes on and on.

There was a commotion at the door as the Mothers and Toddlers group arrived, bringing the kids to Jess so she could meet them and speak to their mums. Jess’s comrades warned the group not to interrupt her while she was sharing. Realising the situation, Jess addressed her helpers firmly.

‘Wait a minute. Let the kids come in; they aren’t an interruption; they are what matters. The Great Change centres on young hearts, even in old bodies! It is innocence that drives it. Embracing their perspective is the key to the Great Welcome, and wounding this innocence hampers the Great Turning.’

She then gathered a group of women, babies, and toddlers around her. She shared stories, cuddled the children, and helped those with ailments.

As they were leaving the Centre, a young man approached Jess on the street, greeted her like royalty, and asked if she could sit down and talk. He was articulate and confident for his twenties. He wore jeans by Armani, a pink shirt by Ralph Lauren, and a handmade blazer from Saville Row. He was educated at Ampleforth Catholic public school, worked as a city trader, and drove up from London in his Porsche.

He asked Jess,

‘Miss, what steps should I take to achieve happiness and participate in the Great Emergence you speak of?

Jess replied,

‘There is no need to call me ‘Miss’; please save such formalities for those you wish to impress. Jess will do. To achieve happiness, you should live an ethical life: avoid deceit and dishonesty, prioritise your family, contribute to charitable causes, and serve the community.’

He replied,

‘I engage in honest dealings, prioritise my family, spend time with them, serve on the board of a local drugs charity, arranged a royal visit to its centre last year, and recently became chair of a London pro-life charity that organises charity balls to raise money for its pregnancy advisory clinic. I am participating in the New York Marathon next month to support the restoration of Westminster Cathedral’s roof. I know the Cardinal personally and advise him on financial investment strategies for the Church. ‘Jess looked the young man in the eye, clearly impressed by his good-hearted and earnest nature.

‘If you truly aim for the Great Change, sell everything, donate the proceeds to Oxfam anonymously, and join us on the road.’

The young man’s face turned ashen as he looked at Jess. He had many possessions: a flat in Knightsbridge, a car, investments, artwork, and more. He shook her hand and tried to hand her a cheque for the work.

Jess declined, saying,

‘We want you, not your money.’

The man left, and regret was evident on Jess’s face as she watched him go.

Jess then addressed her friends and the people from the centre.

‘It is challenging to manage copious possessions because they can start to control you. It is easier for an articulated lorry to navigate down the shaft at Yorkshire Main Colliery than for a wealthy and well-connected individual to accept the Great Change.’

Everyone nearby was astonished.

Bounty exclaimed.

‘Who has any chance, then? There are tons of rich people. Go to London or the posh parts of any city, and you will find shed-loads like him.’

‘I know it seems impossible,’ Jess replied.

‘The world appears to be hell-bent on a suicidal path, valuing money over people. It’s even worse when companies and countries believe this lie.

I just heard that a new grain with a suicide gene has been invented; it kills itself after producing a crop and leaves sterile seeds. What kind of minds would tamper with biology like that?

We must have faith that the universe is evolving even in this chaos. It may be that the Great Change is emerging because of it.’

Rob looked confused and said,

‘Miss, we’ve committed a great deal to joining you on this journey. We’ve left many things behind and have no clue where this is going. We simply trust you.’

Jess smiled at him and then looked at them all.

‘The Great Change drastically alters everything. Anyone who leaves behind the security of their comfort zone and works towards improving the world will see that world become more tangible every day. What you desire is what you become.

They will experience more life than they can imagine, carrying them through death into an even greater mystery.

The Great Emergence means a total shift in priorities. Those who believe they are at the top may find themselves at the bottom, which could be their salvation.’

At the time, she informed them that they would be travelling to London for Easter. Birmingham had been the furthest south they had travelled to then.

She planned to stay on the city’s edge while they travelled to a Jewish Cultural Centre, where she had been invited to speak.

During a sharing, she highlighted the scapegoating of certain groups, such as those who had been displaced from the Gaza Strip, and the need for the deep work of reconciliation and peacemaking. Members of the Centre investigated her, checking for any anti-Semitic views. Impressed by her actions, they invited her to discuss the Israel-Palestine crisis. Jess and her comrades set off in their vans ahead of the convoy of vehicles assembled for the trip. The group had grown significantly. Her closest friends were uncertain about going to London and concerned about what might happen there. Therefore, she began to explain what they should expect.

‘We are going to London, and I am going to be arrested by the authorities, I will disappear, and they will have me tortured and executed in secret, and after a few days I will reappear again.’

Jeff and Julie, like the others, struggled to understand this declaration and consequently acted as though she had never spoken. They recognised from some of her preparations that a series of actions was forthcoming, and that Jess’s concept of the Great Change was to be announced in a new and more impactful manner.

They focused on that, asking her:

‘Miss, we want you to do something for us.’

She replied,

‘Tell me, and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘When we assume power in London, can we manage operations and ensure everything is handled effectively?’

She smiled wryly, stared at them, and said,

‘Do you even realise what you’re asking? You’re asking to join me as I confront the city’s and the system’s darkest depths. Can you handle that?’

They exchanged glances and shrugged.

‘Why not? How hard can it be?’ Jeff said.

‘We’ve been with you from the beginning, Miss. We can handle the pressure and get things organised,’

Julie added.

‘Okay, okay, you will be with me when I go through the belly of this beast. As for being in charge, well, the Great Change will be responsible for who serves it, so you will have to wait and see.’

When the others realised what was happening, they felt indignant, believing Jeff and Julie had gained an unfair advantage. They began complaining and blaming the pair.

As tensions rose on the road, she addressed the group to silence them.

‘In business, politics, and even churches, leadership is taken as a privilege that includes first-class travel and fine dining. This alters their perspective, and they become disconnected from those they are meant to lead. The maintenance of power often becomes a higher priority than using that power to create change.’

Don’t let that happen to you. True greatness lies in serving others. Don’t confuse the right place with the top position. Discover your unique gift that benefits the most people, and work to make it a reality. Look at me - I’m just a woman from Edlington, but I am ready to sacrifice everything, even my life, to serve the Great Change.

They stopped at Leicester Forest Services. After they had eaten and used the facilities, they were coming out through the doors when a man who regularly begged around the site and was even more regularly ejected started to shove through the crowd that had formed around Jess. He had had Tourette’s syndrome since childhood, causing involuntary tics, outbursts of swearing, and sometimes physical violence and spitting. He pleaded loudly with Jess for help, flinching as the crowd parted around him and urged him to be quiet, which only made his tics worse.

Jess halted and commanded them to bring him over, saying,

‘You’re in luck. She wants to see you.’

Jess led the man to the van and dismissed everyone except her closest friends. She then asked,

‘What can I do for you?’

The man’s reply was marked by tics and outbursts, but his request was clear:

‘Since I was a kid, I have been plagued by Tourette’s. It feels like another person acting through me. I have hardly any friends. My family have slowly abandoned me, and I feel so lonely. I have often hit the people I love, and I cannot even sit in the front of a car for fear I will grab the wheel and crash. I know you probably can’t cure me, but I just need some relief. One tick-free day would be heaven. Jess was clearly moved by the man. She asked him to sit in the van and dismissed everyone. After spending over an hour with him, they emerged with the man completely calm.

Jess was telling him:

‘Remember what we have done together, that moment when you could talk to the part of yourself that is angry, isolated, and wants to be heard. I cannot promise you are cured, but keep talking to him. He is a part of you. He is lost, and he wants to come back in.’

The man, visibly emotional with tears running down his cheeks, embraced Jess.

‘I want to stay with you and help you,’ he said.

‘Stay if you want,’ Jess said.

‘We won’t judge, but we’re heading into a lion’s den in London, so it could be tough.’

‘Tough’s fine by me; I’ve done tough all my life.’

So he joined them and became a very close friend of Jess’s, ticks and all.

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For Jesus, it does not suffice to abstain from doing injury to others in order to enter the kingdom of God. Nothing can buy entrance to the kingdom, least of all money. Jesus reveals to the rich their fundamental lack (Mk 10:21). They will cease to want for anything when they cease to be rich, when all that they possess has been placed at the service of the poor. The treasure that has value before God is acquired by total devotion to the poor. No other treasure has a future. If they do not place all their goods at the disposition of the poor, they do not love the Lord their God with their whole heart and their whole soul and their whole mind and their whole strength, because for Jesus it is impossible to love both God and money (Mt 6:24) (Pesch 1976, 1:141). For Jesus, those who live trying to love both God and money cannot be his disciples, even if they observe other ethic norms (Mk 10:20) and recognize a certain greatness in Jesus (10:17). Wealth is the standard means of domination over and exploitation of others (Ambrozic 1972, 171). Therefore it is diametrically opposed to God’s sovereignty.

Jose Cardenas Pallares: A Poor Man Called Jesus

The kingdom of God, then, is a revolutionary, counter-cultural movement—proclaiming a ceaseless rebellion against the tyrannical trinity of money, sex, and power. Its citizens resist the occupation of this invisible Caesar through three categories of spiritual practice. First, they practice a liberating generosity toward the poor to dethrone greed and topple the regime of money. Second, they practice a kind of prayer that is a defiant act of resistance against the prideful pursuit of power, pursuing forgiveness and reconciliation, not retaliation and revenge. Finally, they practice fasting to revolt against the dominating impulses of physical gratification—so that the sex drive and other physical appetites will not become our slave drivers. And all of these are practiced covertly, in secret , so they aren’t corrupted into an external show “as the hypocrites do.”

McLaren, Brian D.. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

The Podcast mentioned in the Podcast is this one

[Bible] Episode 319: Matthew Vines - The Bible Isn’t Against Gay Marriage

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

The Jess Jennings Incident - An Anxious Poet's Miniseries - Ninth Report

Ninth Report North Yorkshire, Ingleborough, Edlington, Castleton, Sheffield, Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle. March - April 2024

She led the group on an extended trek from Harrogate, which was the longest hike most of her friends had undertaken. Each night, they located local campsites and set up tents. As locals learned of their arrival, food was provided for them, and Jess reciprocated by sharing and assisting those in need. She had now trained many of her friends to support her work.

On the fifth day of walking, she took Rob, Jeff, and Julie to climb Ingleborough, while her friends ensured that others stayed away so they could have some time alone.

Jess gazed into the distance, her face glowing as an inner light suffused her. Her whole body radiated light, and figures—both men and women—emerged around her, conversing in the shimmering light.

Rob burst into the gathering, exclaiming excitedly,

‘Let’s pitch some tents and get a fire going so you can all sit down and talk more comfortably.’

As Rob and the others prepared to descend the hill to retrieve their belongings, a cloud that had been low over the peak descended further, enveloping them. In the misty atmosphere, the light initially shone softly but soon intensified, creating a dazzling effect.

Suddenly, they heard a voice that seemed to originate from the cloud, though its source was uncertain.

The voice proclaimed:

‘This is one whom I hold in high regard; she is imbued with love and will demonstrate the true meaning of love.’

The entire spectacle concluded abruptly, vanishing as if it had been rolled up like a carpet, leaving them rubbing their eyes in disbelief. When they refocused, they saw only Jess smiling at them, who then gestured for them to descend the hill.

As they walked down the path, she instructed them not to speak of what they had seen until after the Great Confrontation. They complied, discussing it only among themselves. The phrase Great Confrontation puzzled them deeply.

They tried to satisfy their burning curiosity by asking:

‘Who were the people you were with?’

She replied,

‘They were some of those who died for standing up for the truth. Shadows from history, voices of those who spoke truth to power.’

Julie asked,

‘Why are so many great people killed, and why are they ignored?’

Jess paused and remarked,

‘It appears that only the exploited and excluded hear their message, and after they are killed, the world honours them with museums, churches, and holidays.’

She continued,

‘Their presence has shown me what the Great Change can be like. I don’t expect to be treated any differently than they were. I will have to go through a Great Confrontation; it is the way of things. Yet each time it is faced, the Change gathers more momentum. Yes, Jesus embodied it all, and look at what they did to him; they honour him with buildings and worship, but not by changing.’

This confused them, and they returned, deep in thought. As they approached, they noticed a large crowd gathered around Jess’s friends, who were discussing matters with the clergy from the Ecumenical Fact-Finding Committee, now joined by civil servants as politicians had begun their own investigation.

The crowd quickly gathered around Jess, drawn by her rising fame. National and local press flocked to her, cameras flashing as photographers and interviewers surrounded her.

She pulled one of her own people aside and asked:

‘What on earth is going on? What’s all the fuss about?’

A woman in the crowd overheard and said:

‘Miss, it’s my fault this started. I brought my son to your friends because he has a terrible stammer, can’t speak, and just drools and opens and shuts his gob. He has fits as well, during which he grinds his teeth and falls rigid. I heard your friends had the same powers as you, so I asked them for help, but they did nowt.’

Jess, usually placid, looked exasperated and even scowled at them.

‘What a world,’ she sighed. ‘So many gadgets, yet no understanding of people.’ She turned to her comrades and said, ‘How long will it take you to get this? Bring the lad over here.’

As the young man approached Jess, photographers from both the press and the fact-finding group began taking numerous photographs, flashing away, anticipating an incident. This triggered another episode in the boy, causing him to convulse on the floor and foam at the mouth.

Jess gently placed a hand on the Mother’s arm and inquired,

‘How long has this been happening?’

She explained,

‘Since he was a young boy—his name is Nick, by the way—I have taken him to loads of clinics and doctors. I even worked two jobs to afford private care, but nothing has worked. His Dad left two years ago, claiming I was obsessed with him. But I can’t leave him alone in a psychiatric unit.’

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she said,

‘Every time he seems to improve, he suddenly has more seizures. I’m scared he’ll be hit by a car or fall down the stairs. Please, if you have any heart, help us.’

‘Any heart?’

Jess asked, leaving the question hanging in silence for a moment.

Everyone was motionless. She looked into the woman’s eyes, and the woman returned her gaze, her body shaking with sobs.

‘If you can make peace with your reality yet allow for change.’ Jess whispered. ‘Anything can be turned around. The question is whether you will let that change happen. Many define themselves by their difficulties, not by the content of their souls.’

‘I so want what you’re saying,’ the woman said, hugging and clinging to Jess.

‘But I’m stuck in the dark and can’t find a way out.’

The photographers readied their cameras, and the reporters prepared their notebooks. The crowd swelled, with many jostling for a better view.

She knelt beside the young man, placed her hands on his head and chest, and closed her eyes. The boy thrashed more violently. A camera flash went off. Jess opened her eyes and signalled her comrades to form a circle, obscuring them from view.

She asked the Mother to hold the boy’s hands and continued her silent watch. The boy’s eyes snapped open, staring at Jess in terror. Jess spoke to him in a voice no one else could hear. She then laid her hands on the boy’s head, and he let out a piercing scream before going utterly limp.

Someone pushed through the cordon and shouted

‘He’s dead; the witch has killed him!’

Jess instructed her helpers to reform the circle. She bent down to the young man, who opened his eyes and rose to his feet. She reunited Mother and Son and addressed them:

‘Now is the time to talk with him about his childhood, especially his uncle. It seems he may now be ready to tackle this stuff. You should both seek proper help to process it all.’

The Mother looked confusedly between Jess and her son. Then she burst into tears, hugging the weeping Jess as well.

The boy tugged at his mum’s arm:

‘I couldn’t tell you, Mum. He made me swear.’

‘I am so sorry. I can’t believe it...’

His mother sobbed uncontrollably.

Jess instructed Tim, Eddie, and Bounty to take the two of them on the bus home and meet her in Edlington. The crowd parted respectfully, and even the press left them alone. Later, a newspaper obtained and published details from a police interview about the abuse, as the uncle had been a minor celebrity. People returned home, chatting about what they had witnessed.

On their way home, Bethany asked why they couldn’t help the boy.

Jess said,

‘Unravelling some problems requires deep concentration and even fasting, which can enhance your ability to appreciate and listen to others.’

After returning to Edlington, they tried again to be alone, staying at the Castleton Youth Hostel to discuss many things without disturbance.

They walked into the hills, and, sitting at the top of Mam Tor, overlooking a mist-covered valley, she said to them:

‘This Woman^[1] will be betrayed by politicians, bankers, and religious leaders who will eliminate her. However, she will reappear a few days later.’

They were confused and didn’t understand what she was saying, but they nodded and pretended to understand.

A few days later, they returned to Sheffield and stayed at a Buddhist Centre, where many supported her ideas and appreciated her leading meditations.

Over breakfast on their first morning, she asked:

‘What were you arguing about in the minibus yesterday?’ she asked. They looked sheepish and said nothing, so she pressed on. ‘When I returned after paying for petrol, you were having a right set-to. What was it about?’

They argued over who helped people most, then over who could sit in silence the longest. Lastly, they quarrelled over who Jess preferred to spend time with.

They felt rather ashamed after she inquired, although the situation had become quite intense.

Jess had caught enough to know what was going on. She told them:

‘Whoever wants preferential treatment and recognition should look deep inside themselves, find the place where other people’s measures of our worth become far less important, and live from there.’

Status and esteem are not things other people can give you; they come from recognising that you already have all you need, that your presence is significant, and from the understanding that, by existing, you have inherent value.

To truly feel good about your life, don’t strive to be first. Instead, seek that inner place where you value yourself, so you can value the overlooked.

At that moment, a three-year-old girl, the daughter of one of the Centre’s leaders, entered the room. She smiled up at them with her big brown eyes. Jess opened her arms, and the girl ran into them and sat on her lap, eating cornflakes from the box. Jess looked at her comrades and helpers and said:

‘If your soul is as welcoming as this child’s, the world will respond in kind. What you hold in your soul returns to you. Embrace the Great Change as a powerful stranger, and it will become your friend.’

Later that day, while they were all sitting in the lounge, she was in conversation with them when Jeff asked her,

‘Miss Jess^[2], we saw this woman at the Alternative Medicine Centre down the road, and she was advertising herself as a ‘Jess Jennings Teacher’. She was putting on workshops on recovery and healing for addicts. She was telling people that you had taught her. So we went in and tried to stop her. We took down her posters and confiscated her leaflets. We told her to come and talk to you before she did anything else.’

Jess looked up and said to Jeff and the others:

‘You shouldn’t have stopped her. If she’s truly doing good work under my name, she won’t harm our reputation or that of the Great Emergence.’

If she is useless, people will notice quickly. If she follows my approach, she is an ally, not an enemy.

The Great Change is a republic open to all. Entry is free, but you must recognise your need and accept your own brokenness.

Anyone who hears us and even buys a Big Issue is contributing, and these actions help encourage the Great Turning.’

She paused, observing them keenly and noting their confusion.

‘Equally, any attempt to establish an empire from the Great Change is akin to building a city in the middle of the ocean; it will inevitably sink.’

When people base their reputations on it, they will find that the empire they establish becomes more important than the essence of our work itself. If they create hierarchies, forcing out the weakest and the misfits, then they’ll wish they hadn’t.

Believe me, if they prioritise the protection of their institutions over the lives of the young and innocent, it would be better if they were given concrete shoes and thrown into the river.

Just look at what so-called religious people have done throughout history - burning people in the name of God, making war, slavery, apartheid, and ignoring the weakest and poorest. Believe me, it’s easy to convince yourselves it’s all for God when it’s really about some empire or a mega church, or your tribe or this nation or that nation. And nothing drives out the Great Republic quicker than these pursuits.

Her friends and helpers looked even more confused.

‘Let me be really straight about this,’ she said. ‘If something really gets in the way of Great Change, even if it is something you think you cannot live without, like your position in society, your reputation, or even a relationship, you should let it go.’

It’s better to enter the new world without them than to stay in a dead one with your ego intact.

Believe me, no one escapes the fires of change, but if you go through them willingly, they can only be good for you.

Once you come through the other side of change, you can, in your turn, lead others through. Moreover, they will trust you, leading to harmony instead of endless power struggles.

Jess took them from Sheffield to Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow, and Newcastle. She drew crowds to Church Halls or Community Centres. Sometimes, municipal halls and pubs welcomed her, hoping to boost their business or reputation by hosting her events.

She never allowed her events to be used for advertising or endorsed any products. If pressed, she would decline and move on. When crowds gathered, she always held their rapt attention.

^[1] When she called herself this, she always held her hand over her heart.

^[2] (This is what they had taken to calling her, as they were beginning to have such a deep respect for her that just calling her Jess seemed too informal, it was what they called their teachers at school)

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At the level of Mark’s own story, the appearance of these two should not be surprising, since both Moses (alluded to in Jesus’ “Who am I?”) and Elijah (embodied in John the Baptist) have already been implicitly present. Finally, at the level of ideological legitimation, they lend credibility to the teaching Jesus has just delivered; the cross stands now with “the law and the prophets.” This is meant as a dramatic confirmation of Mark’s repeated claim that his story stands in continuity with the “old story” (1:2).

Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus

So does the first catechetical cycle close. Standing at the structural heart of Mark’s story, it has redefined the meaning of the discipleship journey in decidedly concrete terms. Yet how many generations of interpreters have insisted on spiritualizing the cross, transforming it from a strictly political to a strictly religious symbol? And how many still read the negation, rather than affirmation, of martyrdom in the visions of the advent of the Human One and the transfiguration, despite the fact that Mark identifies both with the one moment of the cross? This is a longstanding conspiracy of hermeneutical suppression by those who have never stood in an earthly court charged with messianic subversion, those who are busy building booths to dead prophets rather than struggling with the demons that mute their own prophetic voice. But it cannot hide the truth of Mark’s discourse: there is no discipleship to Jesus that does not take up the cross.

Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus

Divinity, then, was for the very greatest of the great: for victors, and heroes, and kings. Its measure was the power to torture one’s enemies, not to suffer it oneself: to nail them to the rocks of a mountain, or to turn them into spiders, or to blind and crucify them after conquering the world. That a man who had himself been crucified might be hailed as a god could not help but be seen by people everywhere across the Roman world as scandalous, obscene, grotesque. The ultimate offensiveness, though, was to one particular people: Jesus’ own. The Jews, unlike their rulers, did not believe that a man might become a god; they believed that there was only the one almighty, eternal deity. Creator of the heavens and the earth, he was worshipped by them as the Most High God, the Lord of Hosts, the Master of all the Earth. Empires were his to order; mountains to melt like wax. That such a god, of all gods, might have had a son, and that this son, suffering the fate of a slave, might have been tortured to death on a cross, were claims as stupefying as they were, to most Jews, repellent. No more shocking a reversal of their most devoutly held assumptions could possibly have been imagined. Not merely blasphemy, it was madness.

Holland, Tom. Dominion: The Making of the Western Mind

Looking back on Jesus and his message, Paul spoke of the Cross as the weakness and foolishness of God (1 Corinthians 1:18–25). But that weakness and foolishness, he said, were more powerful than the wisdom and power of humanity with all its ideology, methodology, religiosity, ingenuity, and violence. When Paul looked at the Cross, he saw that “God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them” (2 Corinthians 5:19 TNIV). Somehow, for him, the defeat of Christ on that Roman cross—the moment when God appears weak and foolish, outsmarted as it were by human evil—provided the means by which God exposed and judged the evil of empire and religion, and in them, the evil of every individual human being, so that humanity could be forgiven and reconciled to God. And the reconciling movement resonating out from Christ’s life, teaching, death, and resurrection is what we mean by the kingdom of God.

McLaren, Brian D.. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Eighth Report - Peak District Maltby Wickersley Denaby Main Harrogate Weatherby Spofforth Knaresborough | January – March 2024

They returned to Doncaster by train, and Jess explored the surrounding villages and towns. At the Frenchgate shopping centre, she addressed a crowd when a couple brought her a man suffering from depression. He had been in and out of psychiatric wards and tried various medications, appearing gaunt and broken. Jess pulled him aside, listened to what he had to say, and then responded.

‘This prison you have been in isn’t a jail; it’s a cocoon. It’s time for you to emerge and live again.’

Jess’s words and the act of listening began to free the man. He collapsed into Jess’s embrace, overcome with emotion. Jess then entrusted him to his niece and her husband, addressing them directly.

‘Your Uncle isn’t crazy; he just couldn’t cope with society’s madness. You can help him by choosing to live differently yourselves.’

Jess asked them to keep the incident confidential, but her words only fuelled more gossip. People were amazed by her actions and sayings, remarking,

‘She excels at everything and understands everyone’s needs.’

Increasingly, articles about her appeared in the media, and one local paper referred to it as the Jess Phenomenon. She consistently declined offers to appear on local TV and radio.

About a month later, they returned to the Peak District near Hathersage. With the help of borrowed vans for transportation, Jess aimed to draw people out of urban areas. She attracted around four thousand people, mostly men, to teach them important lessons about life and self-discovery.

Few men were still interested in religion or church, yet they were captivated by her every word and gesture. Women, often her closest followers, quickly understood her message, but she always ensured to engage with the men who came to listen. She told her comrades that so many men were wounded and did not know how to deal with it and so became bitter and angry.

Jess noticed that they had been in the countryside for a couple of days, and some people had been with her all during that time, camping under the stars along with her friends. This led to issues with the Peak District authorities and local farmers. However, she emphasized the importance of leaving the area as it was, sticking to her motto – ‘leave no trace’.

The good weather was a relief. Despite the wardens’ concerns about the large crowds, everyone behaved well, so they overlooked it. Public toilets were nearby, making the situation manageable.

She told her comrades,

‘We need to feed these people; they can’t find enough food here.’

They replied,

‘We have very little food left too—just some sandwiches.’

Despite the Roche Abbey episode, they believed no one in the crowd had food. Jess instructed them to sit in groups and treated the small amount of food as sacred. As she distributed it, the food seemed to multiply, feeding everyone. Some might have shared their own food, but there was enough for all, with leftovers remaining.

After everyone had eaten, Jess and her friends got into the vans and drove back to Maltby to stay with a family and visit the Catholic Club. The Catholic Clergy from the fact-finding mission followed her and took her to a back room, where they started to interrogate her.

‘You seem to be making some pretty wild claims about yourself. We want to know what credentials you have for all this. Do you have any formal training? Can you offer some evidence, some references from people we can trust? We want to know where you got all these ideas from. What guarantees can you give that your ministry is valid?’

Jess placed her head in her hands and sighed,

‘Why do all of you believe that degrees and endorsements from authorities determine someone’s suitability? I have nothing further to say to you, aside from offering my actions as my credentials.’

She walked out, followed by her comrades. They climbed into the vans and headed to Wickersley. They departed so quickly that her friends had forgotten to pack food, but one of them still had a loaf of bread from the meal they had shared earlier.

She talked as they drove,

‘Now then friends’

She smiled and looked around the van, saying,

‘Be cautious of those who believe they run churches or any religion, and particularly the powerful who run everything else. You need to know that they are all part of the same system, though they don’t think they are. That system becomes a beast that needs to be fed. Accepting their ways is like catching a computer virus; it erases your data and steals your identity. It’s like the yeast in beer or bread, if it’s off or out of date then it ruins the whole batch, no beer and no bread for the people. So watch out for these so-called leaders who wreck it for everyone in the name of progress.’

Her friends exchanged accusatory looks, thinking she was upset about them forgetting to bring food.

‘Good grief don’t you get what I am on about? What does it matter that you forgot the food. How much was left over when we fed those two massive groups of people, in those Great Meals?’

‘Plenty,’ they replied.

‘What does that tell you then, how dim are you lot. What do you get when you compare me to the fact finders?’

They exchanged puzzled looks but avoided asking more questions, fearing they’d appear dimmer.

They arrived at Denaby Main and established their base within the grounds of St Albans Catholic Church. They opened the backs of their vans to distribute various donations, including food, clothing, and money. Furthermore, they offered information regarding recovery groups and several forms of help.

Some senior residents from the nearby sheltered accommodation brought an elderly man using a Zimmer frame who was blind due to macular degeneration. She guided him away from the crowds to the school playground.

‘What’s your name?’ Jess asked.

‘Albert Phelan, and I am seventy-two years old,’ the man answered.

Jess took some olive oil out of her pocket and applied it to the man’s eyes. She held her hands over his eyes for a few minutes.

‘Do you see anything now?’ Jess asked. Albert squinted and gasped,

‘I can see people outside the church, but they look blurry, like they’re in a mist. But it’s better than it has been for years.’

‘Let’s try again, Albert,’ Jess said. ‘Just because you’re old doesn’t mean we can’t do our best for you.’

She placed her palms over Albert’s eyes for longer this time. When she removed them, Albert wept.

‘I can see everything clearly.’

‘Brilliant, Albert. I’ll take you home. We’ll get you a paper, though the news might not cheer you up—the reporters just depress the soul. But you’re wise enough to handle it.’

Albert nodded, and they walked back to his bungalow. Jess asked him to keep secret who had helped him.

Jess returned, packed the vans, and headed to Harrogate. The G20 summit was starting, with senior world leaders and anti-globalisation protestors separated by extensive security from Police and Secret Service personnel.

While touring the towns of Wetherby, Spofforth, and Knaresborough, she garnered considerable attention due to her features on BBC’s Look North and ITV’s Calendar, prompting various inquiries about her.

She assembled her closest friends and helpers, whom she referred to as the originals, consisting of the first twelve who had accompanied her in Edlington, for a barbecue at the park situated on the outskirts of Harrogate town centre called the Stray.

After they had eaten, she asked them:

‘Who do people think I am, and what do they say about me?’

There was an awkward silence before they shared their opinions.

‘Some think you are Rumi the Drowner reincarnated.’

Some smiled at this idea, knowing they had seen both together.

‘Others say you are like Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, or a Guru because you offer people a new way of living.’

There were many nods and nudges.

Jess looked at each person in turn and then said,

‘But I want to know what you all think. Who do you think I am?’

Rob swallowed and spoke plainly:

‘I believe that you may be Jesus returned. Although I have known you since our childhood, you now seem different compared to anyone I know. It is likely, after all, that Jesus would be an ordinary person not upper class. I think you have a real grasp on how to run things and that you are here to start a revolution.’

He paused, visibly embarrassed, as he looked at the others, challenging them to mock him.

Jess looked very serious. She neither confirmed nor denied what Rob had said. She told them to keep the conversation private, especially from the press. She often warned them about the media.

She continued:

‘What I will say is that my understanding of leadership differs significantly from those situated less than half a mile away, who require Secret Services and spend millions on security.

One day soon I will walk right into their lion’s den, the snake pit they have created and let them bare their teeth and fill me with their venom. I will take everything they have to throw at me until it kills me, but know violence and oppression are never the final word. When this all happens, I will reveal how the Great Turning always holds the final authority.’

Rob confronted Jess when he found a moment alone with her.

He told her, ‘This will only happen over my dead body!’

Jess saw others glancing their way, trying to eavesdrop.

She rounded on Rob:

‘Your words and the thoughts behind them are much darker than you think. You won’t help me talking like that, with the twisted logic of the system, the way the powers want us to think. Some battles have to be fought and lost; they are the labour pains of the Great Emergence. That’s how this all works, and you’d better get your head round it and pretty damn quick.’

Rob looked crestfallen and slouched off to the others. But Jess called the groups of people sitting on the green to come and gather round her and her comrades. She seemed to be firing on all cylinders after what had just happened.

‘To embrace the Great Turning, let go of the system’s influence on your mind and heart. Stop judging your bodies by glossy magazine standards. Instead, awaken to the Great Self within you and live from that place.’

‘Having more and more stuff doesn’t make you secure. Avoiding the truth that one day you will die doesn’t mean you won’t. Ignoring the effects of your actions on others, including those on the other side of the world, doesn’t mean they are not affected. Then one day you wake up one day feeling utterly empty, the life you thought you had like a bad dream.’

‘But trust me you can use the emptiness and nightmares to move into the Great Emergence, leading to a new life filled with challenges and the joy of being part of a Great Turning’.

‘I ask all of you what is the value of wealth, fame, or power if you must constantly protect yourself from the ordinary things that make life worthwhile? When the media scrutinizes your every move and is desperate to tarnish your reputation.

‘When you are under pressure beware the seduction of easy answers and simple solutions to complicated problems, those who peddle them put their own popularity and power over really changing anything.’

‘If any of you who have felt the power of the Great Turning and then let it slip through your fingers through ambition or some mirage of control then you are in deep trouble.’

‘If you, and this is worse, make religion into another competition about who’s in and who’s out, then I promise you, you will be deeply embarrassed when someone like me reminds you about the Great Turning.’

‘Watch out, if you constantly drown out the voice of the Great Emergence, then sooner or later you will think it is a threat and eliminate its call wherever you find it.’

‘Remember these words, or you risk losing any chance of deep fulfilment. Some of you here will experience the Great Turning soon, even before you die.’

Accompanying Material

Mark inserts this exchange hard on the heels of the second wilderness feeding as if to say that the “sign” of the kingdom is the very terrestrial vision of a new order where all can “eat and be satisfied.”

Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus

It was in response to passages like this in the gospels that the “worker priests” of France began, after World War II, to live with the people they meant to serve. A similar impulse led to the work of “base communities” in Latin America, where the life of the church was to be seen as the life of the poor. But the gospels are felt as a deep threat to the institutional church. When Saint Francis embodied the radical poverty of the gospel, authorities supported those who would tame the Franciscans and make them conform to more “normal” religious life. Thus the worker priests had to be crushed—by Pope Pius XII. And the base communities were closed—by Pope John Paul II, who took Pius XII as his ideal. Gilbert Chesterton said that Christianity has not failed—it has just never been tried. But when it is tried, it is seen as a threat, just as Jesus was. Churches resist all radicalism—which means that they resist Jesus. They pay lip service to the poor, while distancing themselves from the poor. They do not reflect enough on the obvious—that Jesus wore no gorgeous vestments. He neither owned nor used golden chalices or precious vessels. He had no jeweled ring to be kissed.

Wills, Garry. What Jesus Meant (pp. 43-44). (Function). Kindle Edition.

The World, the Flesh, and the Devil: The Spiral of Violence
Wednesday, October 21, 2015

I have used Dom Helder Camara’s inspired teaching on the “spiral of violence” for many years, overlaying that phrase with traditional Catholic moral teaching, which states that the sources of evil are the world, the flesh, and the devil—in that order. This model simply illustrates the three sources of evil and thus violence: the world (at the bottom of the spiral), the flesh (in the middle), and the devil (at the top). If evil and institutionalized violence go unrecognized at the first level, the second and third are inevitable.

By “world,” I am not referring to Creation, but to “the System.” It’s the way groups, cultures, institutions, and nations organize themselves to be in control. This may be the most hidden, the most disguised, and the most denied level of evil. We cannot see it because we are inside of it and because we cannot see beyond our own self-interest and self-protection. For example, I have been a Catholic all my life and I have yet to hear a sermon on the tenth commandment: “Do not covet your neighbor’s goods.” We live in an entire world of manufactured desire or covetousness. It is a virtue to seek to increase your goods. So it’s almost impossible for an American to see capitalism or consumerism as a problem or a moral issue, because that is the way our world is shaped. It is in our hard wiring. It’s difficult to critique the ground you are standing on.

Thankfully, Pope John Paul II introduced to Catholic theology terms like “structural evil,” “institutionalized sin,” and “corporate evil.” We actually were not free to think this way until the 1960s, which produced hippies, worldwide upheavals, and the Second Vatican Council. Still, only rare prophets like Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton dare to critique systems, groups, and institutions themselves. No surprise that Pope Francis quoted both of these American prophets in his address to the U.S. Congress in September.

Organized religion has put most of its concern at the middle level of the spiral—the flesh. The flesh is not primarily what we think of as sexual sin. Rather, it is individual sin, personal mistakes that you and I make. No one is denying that this is a level of evil and sin, and often the most apparent one. But when we only point our finger at the second level of the spiral, blaming individuals and punishing people, we are largely wasting our time. It doesn’t work because we haven’t first recognized that culturally we actually admire this vice. Pick any of the capital sins: greed, ambition, excess, vanity, pride, deception, lust. All are on broad public display, and these “sinners” are in fact the cool people. But then individuals are supposed to confess these as private sins, not that they do anymore.

Up to now, there has been little recognition of the deep connection between culture and corporations—which are accepted because they give us our security and identity and wealth—and the personal evil things that individuals do. We are wasting time trying to make people feel guilty about being greedy when, in fact, legitimated greed is the name of the game. We can’t reward and promote it at one level and then shame it at the next level. We can’t romanticize war, but then rail against the violence in our streets. It will not work. If guns are good in Iraq then guns are good in Idaho.

Cardinal Bernardin (1928-1996), who was like a father figure to me when I lived in Cincinnati, dared to call for a consistent ethic of life or “a seamless garment” morality. He said the Church must be honest and start defending life in all its stages “from womb to tomb.” We must stand against abortion, the destruction of the earth, the evil of war, the death penalty, euthanasia, and all policies that impoverish people. All of these are anti-life. Pope Francis just repeated this lesson almost word for word. We can’t call ourselves authentically pro-life unless we stand against all of these levels of death. Very few people are consistent here.

At the top of the spiral of violence sits “the devil.” The word “devil,” like “demon,” is a personification of a power that is hard to name or describe because it’s so disguised and even idealized as good and necessary. If “the world” is hidden structural violence, then “the devil” is sanctified and legitimated violence—violence that is deemed necessary to control the angry flesh and the world run amuck. The diabolical is by definition “too big to fail” and above criticism, which is precisely what gives anything its demonic power. It is a third level of “necessary good” to control all the disorder and violence at the first and second levels. It is sacralized and above criticism. This might take the form of “the military industrial complex,” as President Eisenhower called it after he left office, the legal system, the penal system, unjust tax codes and voting rights, the highly self-rewarding medical and banking systems, corporations over people, the idolatry of fame, celebrities, and athletes, and even organized religion itself.

Note the first demon in Mark’s Gospel is found in the synagogue (1:23). The only way the devil can get away with being the devil is that he must “disguise himself as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:15). Devils always look like “necessary evil” or the lesser of two evils, and thus they are “too big to fail” and too important to expose. We need and admire them all too much. So, as we say, they “get away with murder.”

If we do not recognize the roots of violence at the disguised structural level, we are largely wasting our time simply focusing on merely individual sin (“the flesh”), and we have almost no chance of recognizing our real devils, who are always disguised as angels of light (Lucifer means “Light Bearer”). The spiral of violence is complete, and much of history has been trapped inside of it, thinking that evil could be eliminated merely by shaming and punishing individuals, who were often just doing what they learned from the system and from the devil.

Father Richard Rohr - Daily Meditations

You can listen to Rchard Rohr give a very helpful talk on this by purchasing the download Here

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The Angel’s Silence

The Talmud states that when the Egyptians were drowning in
the sea, the angels wanted to sing their daily song of praise to
God, and God quieted them: “The creations of My hand are
drowning in the sea, and you are singing songs?!”

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover dip their
spring parsley in salt water,
because compassion
comes only at the
fierce price of our tears
at another’s plight.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover eat bitter
horseradish that makes
the throat ache, because
understanding
comes only through
the narrow place
called empathy.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover remove
a drop of plenitude from
the cup of deliverance,
for each of the terrible plagues
that were visited
on the people of Egypt,
who are of the same womb.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover open their doors
to any stranger in need,
or fleeing from violence,
or desperate for sanctuary,
as they could be Elijah
or perhaps just any
everyday anointed one.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover remember
that the cost of freedom
can never, ever,
be the killing of innocents.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a Passover ensure
no victims are created
for another’s deliverance,
not in a gas chamber,
nor on a cross,
nor on a Gazan strip.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has exhorted
that those who celebrate
a redemption
in bread and wine,
in church or synagogue,
in call to prayer or worship,
in mosque or temple
never blind themselves
to a creation of your hand.

Blessed are you Lord God,
Ruler of the Universe,
who has begged
those who honour
your reign;
never to sacrifice
your creations
to a higher cause,
for your creations
are the higher cause,
and the reason for the angel’s silence.

,דֶסֶח ,The Hebrew word I would use for empathy is Chesed
“… a completely undeserved kindness and generosity”.

Written in honour of one of the most ancient religious
rituals in the human inheritance and having been invited by
a Rabbi to celebrate it as part of my training as a Catholic
priest in 1982, a ritual that continues to perplex me.

Every year we do this. Every year, I feel the ancient pull of a liturgy that dates back into prehistory. Every year, I feel the discomfort of engaging in a religious act that is not part of my Christian heritage. In fact, as we engage in this liturgy around our dining room table in our new house, most Christians will be in Church celebrating Maundy Thursday. So what am I doing? Setting a seder plate, making Haroseth, grinding a horseradish root, preparing salty water, eating spring herbs, roasting a lamb shank and an egg, and, of course, setting out Matzah (unleavened bread). Why on earth am I, a 65-year-old white man from the UK, a convert to Roman Catholicism in 1981, sitting down with my wife and daughter to celebrate Passover?

It all started way back in the early eighties. I was training for the Catholic Priesthood at the Mill Hill Missionary Institute in St Joseph’s College, up on the hill overlooking the M1. We had an excellent liturgy tutor, a nun, who wanted us to intimately grasp the theological scaffolding that supported the Christian Eucharist. Jesus, a Jew after all, celebrated the Passover with his friends the night before he died, during which he imparted the powerful Christian symbolism to the unleavened bread and cup of wine. Yet our tutor's contention was that they were already profound symbols that Jesus had overlaid, and if we didn't understand these, we would never truly understand the Mass we were being trained to celebrate.

She brought in a Rabbi from the local area who led us through a Seder, not as onlookers, but he invited us to participate as guests at the table he set for us. It was a revelation. We were told that this wasn’t a celebration to observe, it was a journey to be traversed. At the heart of this, essentially a family ceremony, observed in the homes of Jews around the globe, is the act of eating and drinking. Tasting the gruelling agony of slavery in the bitter herbs and the saltwater tears, the expediency of flight in the bread that had no time to rise. Experiencing the joy of freedom and an ancient Spring festival by eating greenery like lettuce and parsley, and the intoxication of wine. At the heart is the telling of the story of liberation as outlined in the book of Exodus. This is done in the classic Semitic question-and-answer form, and the children ask them if they are in the household.

What happened on that evening, and every time I have experienced Passover since, is the eliding of time; one is inserted into the odyssey of an oppressed people being led by the divine hand from the narrow place (mitzrayim) to the freedom of a given land, a home. I went back to Maltby from London, and we filled the parish room with bemused members of the congregation as we recited the ancient ritual. When I exited my training before ordination and had a family of my own, we carried on. In fact, it was the only religious ritual my kids genuinely enjoyed and asked to be part of. That is, until they were old enough to ask whether we were engaged in some strange cultural appropriation.

When my wife, Wilma, turned 60, we went to Venice. We fell in love with the quiet streets where only boats disturbed the still surface of the evening. We also found the original Jewish Ghetto moving and disturbing, sensing the ancient hatred that this diaspora always seems to evoke. Our journey home was on the Orient Express - a real treat. We ate all our many meals in the company of a Jewish couple, lawyers from Chicago, a little older than us, anglophiles, who often holidayed in London. We talked about many things and established a good rapport. Good enough for me to venture that we had our own seder every year. Far from disapproval, they expressed delight, telling us this was a compliment to their faith, that it was the most ecumenical of the Jewish festivals, and that they were encouraged to invite non-Jews to their Passovers. We have kept in touch ever since.

When I came to write my latest collection of poems, this astonishing and perplexing festival kept coming back to me. I worked on the poem you see above. Rather presumptuously, I took it on myself to take the form of prayer that is repeated over and over in the seder and wrote my own homage to these invocations. I had read the talmudic passage quoted at the head of the poem many times and felt deeply moved by it. I was also impressed by the taking of ten drops from a full cup of wine to symbolise the ten plagues visited upon the Egyptians in the story, as freedom won at the cost of others’ suffering is never full liberty.

In my Anxious Poet’s Podcast miniseries, I spoke last Wednesday of the depth charges that sit at the heart of so many religious traditions and challenge to the core the way we have, over the years, malformed, forgotten or, in the name of institutional self-protection, or nationalism, gone away from these powerful symbolic confrontations. This poem is my own poor attempt to remind myself of these foundational tropes. No tradition is immune to these deformities, it seems.

According to Google - ‘On April 1, 2026, during a White House Easter lunch, a pastor and spiritual advisor, Paula White-Caindrew, made direct comparisons between President Donald Trump and Jesus Christ, stating that Trump’s experiences with betrayal and false accusation mirrored those of “our Lord and Saviour”. The war in the Middle East illustrates just how far so-called religious countries can move from the core message of the religions they purport to practice.

Jesus’ injunction to do this in memory of me when breaking bread and sharing the cup is not some static remembrance but, in the Greek, ἀνάμνησιν (anamnēsin) - a remembrance that makes present. Just as Passover renders the ancient events so that the celebrants become one with them, so too those who remember a man who washed his friends’ feet, healed the sick, welcomed the outcast, deplored violence, and taught that change comes through self-sacrifice and love for others—whose greeting was “Peace be upon you”—are asked to become like him. These are the depth charges that lay bare the gap between the values these celebrations augur and the way they are hijacked by forces that are demonstrably self-seeking. My poem seeks to counter this by asking us all never -

I will be launching this new collection, Poetry as Resistance, on April 22nd to bolster our inner resistance to these times and explore how poetry can help us live our one wild and precious life. To find ways in which resistance can change the world around us and reconnect us to the deeper spiritual traditions that always challenge us to be the best of human beings. If you are in and around Sheffield, please come along - tickets available by Clicking Here. The book will also be available on that date for purchase on my website, www.adriangrscott.com.

Wishing you all a happy Easter, a happy Eid, a blessed Passover and a joyful Spring. May we all find freedom from the narrow places (mitzrayim) that trap, damage, and kill human beings, and find ways to bring and live the peace, which is the greeting of all great Abrahamic faiths. Peace be with you.

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

Seventh Report - Catcliffe, Cleethorpes & Doncaster September – December 2023

Jess attracted the attention of religious authorities. Catholic, Anglican, and Methodist Bishops and leaders formed a joint committee to investigate her work, sending a team to follow her and gather evidence.

This team noted that neither Jess nor her colleagues regularly attended church services; while she did hold sharing rounds in different churches, they were too occupied with managing the crowds to attend any Sunday services.

Even more concerning to the investigators was her group’s attendance at mosques, Sikh Gurdwaras, and Buddhist centres. The team arranged a meeting with her, so she invited them to a local pub in Catcliffe. Once everyone was seated, she encouraged them to ask questions, but they responded with statements instead.

The first question was from an Anglican Clergyman,

‘ We are concerned about your influence and the example you are setting for people who do not attend church. You are going to confuse them if you do not adhere to a single denomination or even one religion. They might think it is acceptable to pick and choose, believing all religions are equal.’

The second came from a Catholic Monsignor.

‘You all take communion in many different churches, and what is more a number of your followers don’t even appear to be Christian. These acts undermine the truths of the Catholic faith. By all means, visit different temples and centres, but don’t treat them as if they are equal to ours!’

Jess looked them full in the face.

‘I have watched you, the way you all carry on, and it strikes me that your version of religion has provided you with the best place to hide from the truth.

You make your churches a safe harbour to shelter from the harsh realities of people’s daily lives. You end up prioritising maintaining the harbour over rescuing those in peril at sea.’

‘You make going to church on Sunday a measure of worthiness and approval. Do you not realise that this means you neglect the quality of awakening for the rest of the week?

If you ignore reality, and the Great Turning, or becoming a true agent of peace; if you overlook that everyone has access to God because they are human; if you neglect the idea of dying to live. If you make it all about believing the right doctrine, then you have utterly missed the point!

All the while you make religion a prison for your people and for your own souls, a place of duty not freedom, a place for hierarchies and authority, not transformation.

There are pockets of the Great Turning in some Churches, yes, but mostly you’ve made a system out of the tree of life. You leach the sap and poison the roots, rotting the trunk, the branches have withered, and you ‘ve stymied any chance of new growth. The Great Turning is for everyone not just those who conform to your system!

Even worse the higher you climb to get to the top in your Churches the more you’ve to lie to yourself that what is on offer is freedom.

So you just stop asking the questions that really matter and seek to protect your institutions, or you treat being honest and open as disloyalty, let me tell you that is the real lie.’

She was really warming to her theme now,

‘You Catholics, you heard the words of Jesus “take this all of you” about the bread and wine and instead of giving it freely, to all, you have made it a way of excluding the broken. For what, so that you all stay pure? That is not purity it is exclusion and even worse exclusion in the name of God!

None of your churches are very good at this, you all do the same thing. You forget that mercy is the heart of the Great Change and want to force your people to fit a blueprint that many of you don’t even stick to yourselves.

It’s about helping people embrace who they already are, which is truly miraculous, that is the real good news!

You can’t see the Great Emergence because of the Church tinted glasses you wear, and they filter out most of the signs that the Turning is happening all around you.’

The pub patrons looked on, puzzled by her words.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘at these faces. We’re all searching for the meaning of life.’

She addressed the gathered locals and stated

‘The truth doesn’t lie in which building you go to on any given day of the week, but rather in what you dedicate your life to and how you choose to spend your valuable time. These actions ultimately define your true purpose and character.’

‘Your life is meaningful, so do something meaningful. I tell you the world we live in is utterly shining with its own light but hardly anyone takes the time to cast their shadow over the ground and see their own outline.’

They left the pub and visited a woman admired for her community work; though not religious, she appreciated Jess’s ideas.

Jess’s friends were puzzled by her comments about the light and the shadow.

She said

‘Most people live unconsciously, distracted by TV, drink, debts, scapegoating, and addictions. The great forces of international money like it that way and even those entrusted with the message of transformation often don’t realize its value.

They make their Churches into self-serving clubs but do little to offer ordinary people any sense of what all this means - that human life is the greatest adventure you can be on.

They can’t help others see it because they haven’t realised it themselves.

Church goers can be like people sitting on a gold mine but not realising it yet, unwilling to let anyone else try and dig for gold.’

The Fact-Finding Team left the pub seething with indignation; no one had ever spoken to them like that before.

She left Catcliffe and took her friends on a train from Sheffield to Cleethorpes for a break. They stayed at a bed and breakfast, funded by donations that she mostly gave away to those in need.

While walking and discussing their experiences, a Traveller woman selling lucky heather stopped Jess by grabbing her coat. She said:

‘I have seen in the cards that you are a holy woman. My daughter is addicted to crack, and we cannot help her. You can help her, please, please miss.’

‘Well sister’ she said ‘do you think I came here just to look after your type who most folk think are just parasites scrounging off good upright people’

Jess had a kind of glint in her eye that those who were close to her knew. She had it when she nicknamed the siblings Jeff and Julie the Fire-Starters as they were always up for a fight. The woman came back at Jess like a shot.

‘If you don’t help us, we have no hope; only God has ever cared for us. They used to put up notices in the pubs in this town, saying ‘No Travellers’ and even now when they daren’t put up the signs they makes it obvious, we aren’t wanted, never will be.’

Jess stated,

‘For that answer, know that the recovery of your daughter has started. Go back and find her. If she trusts you, she will not be affected by crack again.’

The heather seller returned to her camp and saw her daughter happily burning all her drugs on a brazier.

Accompanying Material

Jesus is impatient with those who—in the name of God- refuse to allow the liberation of wasted bodies, with those who are opposed-for religious motives—to the suppression of exclusivism and contempt for people. Jesus expresses his anger by rebuking the attitude of indifference his adversaries are taking toward a situation of suffering. The same passion led him to drive the merchants-those who identified God with exclusivism and mercantilism (Mk 11:15-19)—from the temple. God entertains the same anger toward those who refuse to accept the messianic message of gladness (Lk 14:21), toward those who refuse to bestow on others what they have freely received from God themselves (Mt 18:34). Jesus reveals the true will of God. He heals on the sabbath in order to demonstrate that nothing can separate God’s cause from the struggle against the suffering of poor and marginalized human beings. By opposing Jesus’ praxis, his adversaries, the Law’s official defenders, have denied God, who is the cause and purpose of the Law. This denial is the “hardness of heart” spoken of in the Deuteronomic tradition.

Incapable of struggling against the physical, material suffering of others, the Pharisees are unable to accept God’s will. Hence they plot to rid themselves of Jesus. The divine will is getting too close for comfort. As they are adamantly opposed to the revelation of God’s subversive, liberating love, nothing remains for them but to murder Jesus. To achieve this end, they ally themselves with the Herodians (Mk 3:6). Legalism and religious purism now join with political opportunism, the denial of morality in politics, hunger for power, crass impiety, and tyranny.

A Poor Man Called Jesus - Jose Cardenas Pallares

Jesus’ message of the kingdom of God scandalizes by showing the weakness of the apparently powerful and the power of the apparently weak.5 Second, Jesus confronts the equally dark spirit of the religious elite of his day. It is one thing to show the weakness of the apparently powerful; it is another to show the evil of the apparently righteous. And this is what Jesus does. Step by step, he draws them out. He dances on their dividing lines, violates their taboos, honors their villains, and vilifies their honorees. He tells the truth to them, inviting their fury. Their blood pressure rises and their pulses pound; their brows and palms go sweaty; their jaws and fists clench and unclench until their elegant robes can no longer hide the true desires, values, fury, and rage seething beneath their folds. When Pilate presents Jesus to the crowds, beaten and bloody, they shout, “Crucify him!” And even more scandalous, they declare, “We have no king but Caesar!” Faced with the kingdom of God, they choose the kingdom of Caesar. These religious leaders (like so many today) have pretended to be about religious piety and national fidelity. They seemed to want liberation from Caesar. But now they manifest their true desire: to affiliate with the powers that be, to maintain sovereignty in their little turf and the continuation of their little religious regime, as if to say, “May our will be done!” If Jesus’ secret message threatens their domain, they will scream for Caesar to bolster their leverage. Their true colours—pale, bilious, gangrenous— have shown through.

McLaren, Brian D. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

Pope Leo - Semon on Palm Sunday

On Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, Pope Leo XIV celebrated Mass for the faithful gathered in St. Peter’s Square.

In his homily, the Pope reflected on Jesus’ revelation of Himself as the King of Peace, even as violence loomed around Him.

As Jesus walked the Way of the Cross, we walk with Him and contemplate His passion which He bore for the sake of humanity as a gift of love.

“He remains steadfast in meekness, while others are stirring up violence,” said the Pope. “He offers Himself to embrace humanity, even as others raise swords and clubs.”

Jesus, he added, came to bring life and light to the world, even as darkness and death was about to engulf Him.

Pope Leo pointed out that Jesus desired to bring the world to the Father’s arms and to tear down every barrier that keeps us from God and our neighbor.

Repeating “King of Peace” several times, the Pope highlighted Jesus’ actions in His Passion that bear witness to His desire to bring peace.

When one of His disciples struck the high priest’s servant and cut of his ear, Jesus commanded the disciple to put away his sword, recalling that those who live by the sword die by the sword.

As He was crucified and put to death, Jesus did not arm or defend Himself but allowed Himself to be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

“He revealed the gentle face of God, who always rejects violence,” he said. “Rather than saving Himself, He allowed Himself to be nailed to the cross, embracing every cross borne in every time and place throughout human history.”

Pope Leo XIV went on to recall the prophet Isaiah’s words: “Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen: your hands are full of blood” (Is 1:15).

“Jesus is the King of Peace, who rejects war, whom no one can use to justify war,” said the Pope. “He does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war, but rejects them.”

He lamented the many wounds of the human family in our world today, as people cry out to God with the “painful groans of all those who are oppressed by violence and are victims of war.”

“Christ, King of Peace, cries out again from His cross: God is love! Have mercy! Lay down your weapons! Remember that you are brothers and sisters!” said the Pope.

In conclusion, Pope Leo highlighted the words of Servant of God Bishop Tonino Bello, reflecting on the Blessed Virgin Mary who stood at the foot of her Son’s cross.

“Holy Mary, woman of the third day, grant us the certainty that, in spite of all, death will no longer hold sway over us; that the injustices of peoples are numbered; that the flashes of war are fading into the twilight; that the sufferings of the poor are breathing their last,” he said. “And grant, finally, that the tears of all the victims of violence and pain will soon be dried up like frost beneath the spring sun.”

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Sixth Report - Edlington, Armthorpe, Askern, Stainforth, Moorlands, Maltby, Catcliffe, Brinsworth, Treeton & Sheffield - September – October 2023

She left Sheffield immediately and returned to Edlington with her friends. That Sunday, she spoke at the Miners Institute, impressing many who had never heard her before.

‘This lass can talk’ they said, ‘how did a woman from Edlo get to be so clever?’

Some were impressed, but an Advertiser article revealed Jess hadn’t completed her hairdressing qualifications. Her siblings were interviewed and they found her bemusing.

Others who were interviewed said

‘She thinks she’s so clever but she’s just one of us, and now she’s telling us how to live, I don’t think so.’

‘I was at school with her, she was worse than me at RE’

Jess said to them,

‘Artists are seldom valued by their families or critics. Many authors were not acknowledged by those they grew up with. It seems impossible that an ordinary person might be capable of seeing things in a new way.’

She was unable to make any of the changes she had made in other places. She helped a few of the ill and troubled people improve but then left as she could do no more. She did not understand why they treated her differently, as she had a deep affection for her hometown. She then visited the surrounding areas including Armthorpe, Rossington, Askern, Stainforth, and Moorlands.

One morning, Jess gathered her friends at the local café in Edlington. She instructed them to work in pairs, saying,

‘You have observed me help addicts begin their journey to recovery and witnessed the transformations I have enabled; now, go and do likewise.’

She continued

‘Don’t bring anything extra; only carry the message of the Great Turning. No fundraising or gimmicks—just follow my example. Stay with the people and accept what they offer. If they don’t pay attention, simply move on to the next place.’

They travelled to Barnsley, Rotherham, Sheffield, and Chesterfield, helping many addicts recover. They spoke about the Great Turning and the resulting peace. Their presence greatly improved the homes where they stayed and were welcomed.

Barry Priestly, Leader of Sheffield City Council, learned about Jess’s activities through the local newspaper, the Star. Jess and her followers became a popular subject for journalists, though they refused interviews and asked people to keep their work secret.

Local radio stations were reaching out to Jess or those impacted by her work. Jess avoided the press, preferring word-of-mouth for an honest spread of her message. However, some sought their five minutes of fame.

Priestly said to his staff,

‘This must be tied to Jalal Rumi; perhaps he sent her to haunt me.’

An adviser said,

‘No she is more like a suffragette, a radical, someone hell bent on upsetting the status quo!’

Another said

‘She is similar to the civil rights activists of the 1960s, advocating non-violence. However, her actions have caused trouble. We should monitor her as she may pose a challenge, especially with the upcoming election, since she could potentially influence public opinion against us.’

However, Priestly insisted

‘No it’s that lunatic Rumi; we got rid of him but somehow here he is influencing her from beyond the grave!’

Barry Priestly had eliminated Jalal Rumi, who had criticized the city’s management and the high-profile projects benefiting councillors and companies. Priestly knew he had a few company directorships waiting for him after his tenure as leader. Rumi very publicly questioned how this benefited those still living in poor housing and stuck in poverty. Barry was pushed to his limit when Sheffield bid for the Commonwealth Games. Rumi, known as the Drowner, consistently criticized the bid publicly. He denounced the free trips abroad, parties, and expense accounts associated with hosting the games.

‘Barry Priestley and his cronies are on expense accounts whilst many in this city do not have enough to feed their kids or a decent roof over their heads.’

During the visit of the Commonwealth Committee to the city, Jalal Rumi organised a week of fasting and prayer. His Twitter feed requested that people wear yellow garments in solidarity and contribute the money saved from fasting to a GoFundMe page dedicated to building affordable housing in the city. Carla, Barry’s wife, was greatly vexed by Rumi. She valued the power of being married to the Leader of the Council and urged him to campaign for Mayor of South Yorkshire to gain more influence. She also wondered how they could move into more prominent national roles. Rumi’s week of fasting was infuriating for her, chiefly because it caught the attention of the Commonwealth Committee, who were asking difficult questions. Her husband shared her dislike for the Sufi Teacher but also exhibited a curious and fearful fascination with him.

Carla Priestly, with the assistance of a client journalist, revealed that Jalal Rumi, formerly known as Jed Patterson, had visited Afghanistan and spent time at a Madrasa associated with the Taliban. She circulated rumours that he attended a terrorist training camp and implied he was a terrorist with anti-Western views. Ultimately, Barry convinced the police to arrest him under anti-terror legislation.

This action removed him from public view during the committee’s visit and weakened his credibility among many individuals. Nevertheless, a notable minority of the city’s residents continued to support him by wearing the yellow garment and campaigning for his release. Carla’s frustration was further aggravated by Barry’s frequent visits to the cells where Jalal Rumi was detained, during which he engaged in long conversations with him. Barry felt trapped, knowing deep down that imprisoning him was wrong but torn between his conscience and ambitions.

Carla organised on the final night of the committee’s visit for Barry and a few delegates to be entertained by some high-class escorts. Barry became very drunk, and the escorts had been instructed to dress the men in leather gear and then photograph the event. The following day, Carla confronted Barry with the photographs and demanded Rumi’s deportation to Afghanistan, threatening to release them out of her hatred for him. Knowing Barry valued his power and that her ambition would let her stay in control without him, she anticipated his submission.

He finally persuaded the chief of South Yorkshire Police to discreetly have Jalal Rumi deported. Some of Rumi’s followers tried to locate him after the deportation but failed. It was rumoured that he had died near the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, although there was no information about who was responsible.

Jess’s comrades returned from their work, reporting the spread of the Great Turning to Manchester, Scunthorpe, Leeds, and Nottingham. People were transformed and transforming others. Jess then took them to Roche Abbey near Maltby.

‘Let’s get some space, you all need a rest’.

They brought a barbecue with them, as they did not have time to stop for meals on the road and had to eat whenever possible. Someone saw them get off the bus in Maltby, and word spread about their destination. Many people arrived before them, and more followed, so by the time they settled, there was a significant crowd. The English Heritage employee responsible for the ruin allowed everyone in without charge due to the large numbers. Jess observed the situation and noted that the audience was eager to hear her, having left their homes quickly and continuing to arrive.

She spoke for about an hour before taking questions. She had a way of asking questions that prompted the questioners to find their own answers. Afterward, people came for healing and listening sessions. Her friends also provided healing and listening sessions, having learned from her how to help people open up. These activities continued throughout the afternoon and evening.

Some of her companions took her aside during a break and said,

‘Look Jess, we are at least two miles from the nearest chippy, there are too many people, send them home so they can get something to eat.’

‘You feed them’ she replied.

They stared at each other, clearly perplexed.

‘We don’t have enough food or enough money for takeaways for everyone.’

‘What food have you got?’ she said.

‘Just what we bought for the barbecue’ they answered.

‘Okay get it going and I will get the people to sit down in groups’.

She returned to find the food cooking nicey, its aroma spreading through the valley.

She extended her hands over the food and honoured its life-sustaining power.

‘Let this food signify the abundance of the Great Peace,’ she said. ‘I want you to distribute it to the nearest groups.’

They started cautiously, expecting it to run out, but it didn’t. Each group had more than enough. They were unsure if people shared their food or if it simply multiplied. Each time the barbecue was running low, additional food and charcoal appeared. There were piles of leftovers, and many, including Jess’s friends, took food home. Nearly a thousand people were fed in the valley that evening.

After they finished eating, Jess suggested that her friends start the journey to Catcliffe on foot because she wanted to talk to people in the towns around Sheffield. It was getting dark, and she wanted to stay in that holy place for a while. She said she would catch up with them. They walked to the main road and took the last bus.

The bus was crowded with people heading to Sheffield for the nightclubs after leaving the pubs. Arguments were happening throughout the bus, pulling in Jess’s friends. The bus driver stopped and demanded order, and this continued for about an hour, with the situation nearly escalating to the point where the driver considered calling the police. Suddenly, Jess appeared on the bus and moved from group to group, seemingly calming the situation wherever she went. Then, she spoke to her friends.

‘Why didn’t you walk like I asked, it’s a good job I noticed you, I was going to walk by. But the Great Peace was needed here, and you are still so inexperienced that you couldn’t cope.’

She looked around and said,

‘Let’s get off this bus and take in the night air.’

They followed her, stunned and scared by the day’s and night’s events. What had they become involved with?

Upon their arrival in Catcliffe, the sun was rising, and the shops were beginning to open as people started their day. News of Jess’s presence spread rapidly. The local hall was opened for her, and she commenced sharing valuable insights with the people. Many who required healing were brought to her, and she assiduously listened to them, initiating the recovery of both minds and bodies for all. Subsequently, she continued to visit other towns in the area, including Brinsworth, Treeton, and several others.

She gained widespread recognition as local media frequently interviewed those she impacted. They consistently testified that her influence empowered them to make positive life changes, feeling accepted and rediscovering their self-worth. Jess refused interviews and advised her friends to do the same, which only piqued media interest further, catching the attention of the national press.

Accompanying Material

Sobrino: I wrote Jesus Christ Liberator Jesus the Liberator] as part of a project of Latin American theologians dealing with fundamental themes in Catholic theology. But really, this

“Christology” is not new, and I do not say this just because the title is old. Unfortunately, the world continues to be a situation of oppression. There are more poor people in the world today than yesterday. I have written this book so that, at least, this oppression cannot continue in the name of Jesus.

Where is the originality of this christology?

Sobrino: I think that the treatment of idols, realities that are not only ignored, but covered up in Europe, is interesting. What needs to be said about Jesus is not only that he gives himself and that is completely current.

What is truly original is the last chapter. Christologists clearly speak about the cross, and a few speak about the crucified God, but they do not usually speak about the crucified people. They of Christ, which is the Church. This is how conclude the first volume of the christology.

Sobrino: I live in a country where there are two fundamental realities. First: they have killed 75,000 people in recent years, including people close to me like Archbishop Romero and the UCA Jesuits. That makes one think. Suffering makes you think.

Second: it is very surprising that commitment, hope, and dedication would spout up among the people in the midst of this cross. There is life in the midst of this death. This also stimulates thought.

Jon Sobrino - Spiritual Writings - Ed Robert Lassalle-Klein

Sinners are frequently described as hypocrites by Jesus, and their hypocrisy is verified in their sin against the kingdom. Jesus hurls anathemas at the Pharisees because they pay no attention to justice; at the legal experts because they impose intolerable burdens on people and have expropriated the keys to knowledge for their own use; at the rich because they refuse to share their wealth with the poor; at the priests because they impose restrictions on people’s freedom; and at the rulers of the world because they govern despotically.

Christology At The Crossroads- Jon Sobrino

Fifth, it’s clear that Jesus’ signs and wonders aren’t in themselves the point. Rather, like road signs, they point to the point. Tourist traps and public-relations stunts draw attention to themselves, but signs point to something beyond themselves—a destination or a path or something worth noticing. What do they point to? Let me answer that with a kind of parable of my own. If you get a glimpse of soldiers in camouflage uniforms sneaking through the forest, if you notice planes from an enemy country flying high above you, if key political leaders in your country disappear or are mysteriously assassinated, you might suspect that an invasion is coming. If bullets start flying and bomb sirens start going off, your suspicions will be fulfilled. Another nation—let’s call it a kingdom—is preparing to invade and conquer your kingdom. But what if this kingdom that is invading is a kingdom of a very different sort? What if the invasion is one of kindness and compassion rather than force and aggression? What if sick people start getting well suddenly and inexplicably? What if rumours spread of storms being calmed, insane people becoming sane again, hungry people being fed, and dead people rising? Couldn’t this be the sign of a different kind of invasion—the coming of a different kind of kingdom?

McLaren, Brian D. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Fifth Report - Doncaster & Sheffield - July - September 2023

Jess and her group travelled by train to Bamford to stay at the campsite in the hills. When they got off the train, they encountered a crowd. The villagers had heard she was coming and gathered around the platform to see her and listen to her speak. A man from the village got off the train and rushed towards Jess, shouting and swearing at the villagers. Some men restrained him while others called the police. Jess inquired about the man’s story. Someone said.

‘Oh he’s as mad as a stag that one’.

The man grew up in the village and came out as gay on his eighteenth birthday. Rejected by his family, he took it badly. He started travelling regularly to Sheffield, where he visited gay clubs and eventually rented an apartment. Despite this, he struggled with his family’s rejection and sometimes returned home to vainly seek their approval. He became HIV positive, which increased hostility from his family and the village. He would pitch a tent at the local campsite and confront his family and the residents of the area.

His depression deepened, leading him to heroin use. He became thin and gaunt. After being banned from the campsite, he began sleeping in the cemetery and harassing people from behind gravestones. One day, he ran out, grabbed his father, causing him to fall and break his arm. The family obtained an injunction to keep their son away. On another occasion, he knocked on his parents’ door until his mother let him in. When his father returned and told him to leave, he became upset and damaged the house until the police arrived to restrain him. The family reluctantly had him sectioned, taking him to a mental health unit in Sheffield. However, on the very day Jess had travelled out to Bamford, he managed to escape and took the same train as Jess and her friends. He suddenly broke free from his captors and lunged at Jess, shouting as he grabbed her.

‘What are you doing coming to this village, I know who you are; you are that Jess everyone is on about. Are you yet another bitch who is going to send me away, I bet you are, you sanctimonious cow’

Jess remained composed and steady as she extended her hand towards him, firmly grasping the man’s shoulders.

‘What do they call you?’ Jess asked.

‘The other patients call me Riot, because I cannot control myself, my feelings take over and trouble seems to follow me wherever I go.’

Jess produced a little bottle of Frankincense oil and said to the man called Riot,

‘Do you want to be released from this hell?’

He replied,

‘Yes, but I don’t want to feel like a zombie like with the hospital drugs.’

The police arrived but couldn’t reach the man due to the dense crowd around Jess. Nearby, a large flock of sheep grazed in a field. Jess asked,

‘If I can help you manage your feelings while allowing you to be yourself, would you want that?’

The man was shaking with anxiety, needing a fix and breaking into a cold sweat.

‘I would give anything to be free,’ he said, teeth clenched.

Jess began to anoint him and to put her hands on his head. The man called Riot reacted as if an electric shock had gone through him, he went rigid and then slumped to the ground. He let out a scream like an express train going into a tunnel.

The sheep in the field panicked and ran straight at the crowd, forcing them to jump out of the way. The flock then spilled onto the main road, causing numerous delays as they scattered throughout the area. Many sheep were lost and never seen again.

When the crowd reassembled around Jess, they observed the man known as Riot sitting cross-legged on the floor and conversing with Jess coherently. He no longer appeared distressed, and Jess was discussing the recovery process with him.

‘Stopping drugs is just the first step. Go to Narcotics Anonymous in Sheffield—they’ll help you stay clean. I’ve helped your body; now work on your heart and mind.’

Many in the crowd urged the police to arrest the man and take him back to the hospital, but he calmly responded,

‘It’s okay, I will return on the train. Please allow me the dignity of walking back to the ward of my own accord.’

He was obviously clear-headed and lucid, so the Police agreed. The crowd then turned on Jess and her group.

‘Get away from here, you have meddled enough, can’t you see how much you have upset this man’s family’.

The local vicar guided them back onto the next train, stating,

‘Please do not return. We are decent people here and do not need your theatrics. That man has caused considerable distress to his family, and your involvement has exacerbated the situation. I attempted to counsel him for years, but there are certain individuals who cannot be helped; perhaps you will understand this one day. Furthermore, the farmer will seek compensation for his livestock, which none of you can afford. Please just leave.’

As Jess boarded the train, the cured man ran up and begged to join her group.

‘No,’ Jess said, ‘I told you to get clean, then share the message with others. What I did for you; you can do for them. People will get clean because of you.’

The man known as Riot dedicated his efforts to traveling through the towns in the High Peak and beyond, finding people struggling with addiction, and helping them in embarking on the Great Search. The initiative helped them recognize their need for change and find peace. His efforts reunited many families, as shown by the interviews I did with those he impacted, his work had amazing results.

The train arrived back in Sheffield, and there was a large crowd in the station forecourt. The Archdeacon of Sheffield, Reverend Jeremy Parker, made his way to the front of the crowd. He was 46 years old.

He actually fell to his knees before Jess begging,

‘My little girl is dying in the Children’s Hospital, please come and lay your hands on her and keep her alive’.

He had tears running down his cheeks, and people noticed that Jess also began to weep and agreed to go with him. As they walked through the crowded city streets, the crowd grew as word spread that Jess might do something extraordinary.

A woman heard the commotion and identified the person walking past. She had experienced female incontinence for years, which affected her quality of life. Her condition led her to live alone as it caused a strong odour of urine that disturbed her family. She exhausted her resources on private medicine and alternative therapies, but her condition worsened, and she became poorer.

She heard about Jess and thought that if she could touch her, she might find a cure.

As the crowd reached a bottleneck in the underpass, she positioned herself behind Jess and took hold of her hand. She immediately felt a return of bladder control and she knew it had worked. Simultaneously, Jess perceived an energy departing from her.

‘Who touched me?’ she asked.

Her friends looked at her like she was losing it.

Bethany said: ‘Come on Jess, hundreds of people are pushing and shoving in this underpass. Many have touched you!’

Jess persisted, and eventually, the woman knelt down and explained what had happened. Jess stared in amazement.

‘Trusting your instinct has saved you. You are cured. Go, and may your life improve.’

While speaking to the woman, the Archdeacon’s secretary approached them and took the Cleric aside as the crowd watched. She informed him that his daughter had passed away and that his wife requested his immediate return to the hospital.

Jess saw his expression and understood. She approached them and said,

‘Don’t fear this death; trust in the Great Peace.’

She proceeded to the hospital entrance, allowing only Rob, Jeff, and Julie to accompany her. They followed the Archdeacon to the ward, where they found the entire family present and visibly distressed.

The intensive care unit was very still, all the staff subdued in the presence of death. She looked at them all and said,

The family were deeply insulted by her words and the staff wanted to eject her. However, the Archdeacon intervened and guided Jess to the bed where the girl was lying. They closed the curtains around the girl and her mother for privacy. Jess lent over the girl and breathed on her,

‘Up you get little ‘un’ she whispered.

The girl opened her eyes and regained her breath, she sat up and looked at Jess with an expression of relief and surprise, as if she had been pulled back from the brink of a cliff. The girl was twelve years old; Jess instructed that all medical tubes be removed and that she be made comfortable. The staff drew the curtains and were astonished by what they saw. Jess directed them to provide food and drink for the girl. She emphasised that the incident should stay confidential and asked for respect for the family’s privacy by avoiding discussing it with anyone and instructing everyone else to do the same.

Accompanying Material

Here is the quote from ‘A Poor Man Called Jesus’ by Jose Cardenas Pallares:

‘When we speak of miracles, a smile of superiority is likely to come to our lips. The miracle fever the “gringo” sects use to distract us from our vital problems-our living problems-have contributed to our loss of a true sense of miracle. Our ideas and beliefs about Jesus’ miracles are confused. We refuse to look on Jesus as a kind of religious showman. We prefer the seriousness and authenticity of the human drama right here on earth: we have no need of the heavenly variety, we feel. And so we lightly rationalize the gospel accounts of Jesus’ miracles, lest we lose track of the seriousness of the gospel. Or perhaps we are afraid of falling victim to the idea-manipulators. Or, worst of all, perhaps we are afraid of being too much like the ignorant masses of the poor.

Before we accept or reject the fact of a miracle, we ought to reflect upon the meaning of miracle as such. Certain gospel narratives of the miracles of Jesus will be of help to us here.

God is revealed through deeds and events. In them God’s revealing word is addressed to human beings. The material universe is not mere decoration. Nor is it a mirage. No, it is the indispensable means of interpersonal communication. God speaks to us in the language of matter. God, who intervenes in my consciousness, also speaks to my bodily reality, for there is no thought process without its immediate corporeal correlate, no thinking of any sort without the direct participation of the body in that act of thinking (Mouroux 1953, 47).

As Pascal said, we need both truth and miracles, for it is the whole human being who has to be convinced, body as well as soul (Pascal 1962, 806). To deny miracles would be to reduce God to the status of a part of our inner selves. It would be to divorce human beings from their nature and to deny matter any future. By means of miracles God refuses to be the monopoly of the know-it-alls. He speaks everybody’s language (Jn 7:31-52).

Through the incarnation God somehow descends to this material organism of ours and is steeped in our need and our toil and our pain until God is actually brought down to destruction and death. After that occurs our bodies can be drawn to God (Mouroux 1953, 75). Jesus is the manifestation of the glory of God. He cannot be reduced to an idea, not even the most sublime idea. Redemption is effectuated in and for this material world.

Jesus shows any interest in a disincarnate world. The glory of the Lord cannot be walled up in the world of ideas. The gospel is not intellectual, nor are mystical happenings reserved for the initiate.

They are materialistic in the best sense of the word. Jesus does not reveal himself as immortality and thought, but as resurrection and life (Jn 11:25).’

And from Brian McLaren:

‘Let’s suppose a TV news reporter walked up to Jesus and said, “Jesus, we have thirty seconds before the commercial break. Can you tell us in a sentence or two what your message is about?” What would he say? “Everyone needs to rethink their lives as individuals, and we need to rethink our direction as a culture and imagine an unimagined future for our world,” he might say. “Because the kingdom of God is here. You can count on this.”’

Jesus stops on the sidewalk, looks back at the reporter, and says, “This was a sign, a wonder. As a sign, it signifies the reality and nature of the kingdom. As a wonder, it fills you with wonderment . It makes you think. It breaks all of your categories of what is possible and impossible.

McLaren, Brian D.. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Fourth Report - Doncaster & Sheffield - July 2023

She returned to Doncaster and gathered a crowd outside the Frenchgate Centre due to the good weather. Standing on a bench and using a loud hailer, she shared stories about the Great Change.

‘Listen,’ she said.‘A charity sent an email for its African Drought appeal. Some saved it to their to-do list but forgot. Others replied enthusiastically but didn’t complete the direct debit form. Many missed it among junk mail or lost data due to a virus. Some were discouraged by friends who said donations would go to wages and office costs. But some read it, donated generously, and helped avert the famine. Let anyone with sense hear this and act on the Great Turning!’

When they left Doncaster, her friends on the bus asked her about her story.

She told them.

‘Look the Great Turning is really tough for people to get it straight away. So I use stories that if you think about them long enough, they become like a wedge that gradually opens up a chink, then a crack and then a chasm.

With you, I try to be direct since you’ve seen the Great Change. To others, I simplify into stories for easy understanding. However, those who consider themselves clever often disregard these stories, thinking them too simple.

‘Do you understand the story of the email?’

They looked blankly at her.

‘The email represents the Great Turning. Those who save and forget it are initially enthusiastic but quickly lose interest and disappear; I call them people pleasers. Those who respond but don’t donate start the process but give up when it gets too hard. Those with lots of junk mail or viruses lose the message in their clutter or let constant entertainment suffocate their true desires.’

Those who permit themselves to be discouraged from the Great Change are those who struggle to find inner drive, who cannot endure solitude and silence, and trade their true selves for the approval and admiration of others, resulting in their enslavement.

But those who donate are aware of the Great Emergence and feel their deep yearning for it. Though they may not have great strength, they are up-front about their suffering and losses and passionately embrace the Turning. In changing their lives, they become bearers of hope in the world.’

Then she said

‘Does anyone buy a new Flat Screen TV and put it in a cupboard so that no one can see it. No, you put in a place where the whole family can watch it.

So with the Change nothing is kept hidden, it is brought into view so that it can be dealt with, you are only as sick as your secrets!’

‘Are you hearing me, are you able to really listen?

Beware of these toxic clichés:

“be cruel to be kind”

“dog eat dog”

“look out for number one”

The Emergence turns this dead logic on its head. Trust your instinct to help others; by doing so, you help yourself. Avoid being judge, jury, and executioner, as you may one day face the same harsh justice you imposed on others.’

Jess described the Great Emergence like this

‘It is like a gardener who plants bulbs in autumn throughout her garden. During winter, the ground remains cold and dormant. In spring, small green shoots appear, and eventually, full plants grow, culminating in yellow daffodils. The gardener has faith that the bulbs will grow despite the cold earth. The flowers then fill her house.’

She asked them,

‘There are so many images that I can use but do you understand? Take an acorn, many fall from the oak and are lost, but a few take root. Over centuries, these seedlings grow into mighty trees. Though you can’t see the oak in the acorn, one leads to the other.’

Her sharing was vivid, filled with images like Great Search, Great Change, Great Peace, Great Emergence, and Great Turning. She tailored her stories to her audience using relatable examples. Later, with her friends, she reviewed the day’s talk and provided a broader view.

Late one evening in Sheffield, while waiting at the bus station for transportation back to Edlington, they heard the sounds of a large crowd approaching them. Jess was asleep on a bench, exhausted. A crowd of opposing football fans, leaving a match, were rampaging down the road, engaging in violent confrontations. Those who found themselves in their path were inadvertently caught up in the disorder. The crowd wielded baseball bats and knives, threw bricks, and smashed windows, resulting in numerous injuries.

The police attempted to contain the situation but were unsuccessful. The crowd moved directly towards Jess and her comrades. While she remained asleep, her companions were terrified and ready to flee, yet they could not awaken her. Eventually, they managed to rouse her.

‘Jess, look, we are in danger. We need to run.’

Upon waking, Jess observed the rioting crowd advancing towards them and raised her arms.

‘Stop, calm down, for everyone’s sake, please stop this uproar,’ she commanded.

Though small in stature, Jess exuded determination as she addressed the crowd with a commanding voice. Her presence and the strength of her vulnerability halted the mob, which promptly settled down and began to disperse as though nothing had occurred.

She then turned to her friends, saying,

‘Why do you doubt the love that protects you? Fear is your enemy, not people. Trust in it.’

As they boarded the bus, her friends remarked to one another,

‘Who is this woman? That was incredible. She was so calm and collected. Where did she learn to do that?’

Accompanying Material

Here is the quote I read from Brian Maclaren on the Podcast episode.

Maybe then, we have some beginning of an answer to the disciples’ question, and ours. Why did Jesus speak in parables? Why was he subtle, indirect, and secretive? Because his message wasn’t merely aimed at conveying information. It sought to precipitate something more important: the spiritual transformation of the hearers. The form of a parable helps to shape a heart that is willing to enter an ongoing, interactive, persistent relationship of trust in the teacher. It beckons the hearer to explore new territory. It helps form a heart that is humble enough to admit it doesn’t already understand and is thirsty enough to ask questions. In other words, a parable renders its hearers not as experts, not as know-it-alls, not as scholars . . . but as children.

The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything

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Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Third Report - Edlington & The Peak District - June-July 2023

On Sunday, Jess and her friends attended mass at the Catholic Church. Some parishioners spoke to the Parish Priest.

‘She is not a Roman Catholic, she should not receive communion here.’

Jess arrived at the Church, where the parish priest, slightly embarrassed, spoke to her before the service began:

‘Do you intend to take communion?’

‘My friends and I do.’

The priest glanced at the individuals who had reported Jess and shifted uneasily in the pew.

‘You are not a Catholic, are you?’

‘No,’ replied Jess, ‘I was christened in the Church of England nearby.’

‘I regret to inform you that I cannot permit you to take communion, as I would be reported to the Bishop.’

Jess rose to her feet, drawing the attention of the entire congregation, much to the discomfort of the priest. She addressed everyone,

‘What do the words “take this all of you” mean to you? This place should include everyone. The Great Emergence teaches that love is available to all; the only requirement is recognising your need for release and recovery.’

A man known for disrupting Sunday Mass by begging and letting his dog roam had quietly entered the back pew. Few knew he was a former soldier who lost his memory due to an explosion in Iraq. Jess made a beeline for him because the parishioners were attempting to remove him as they had before.

Jess asked,

‘Do you know who you are, friend?’

They told her,

‘Don’t bother with him. He’s disturbed and beyond help. We often call the Police to remove him so we can get on with Mass in peace.’

Jess said

‘What is mass about if it’s not about caring for guys like this?’

She turned towards the man

‘What is your name?’

The man replied

‘Sod Off.’

Some of the mass goers told him off

‘Don’t talk like that in Church, go on, get out’.

Jess however understood.

‘Is that what everyone says to you, is that why you call yourself Sod Off?’

The man brightened

‘I can’t recall my real name.’

One of the congregation muttered

‘He’s just a malingerer’

Another said,

‘He seems to have enough money to feed that mongrel, so why does he keep bothering us?’

Jess, now angry, pulled the man named ‘Sod Off’ aside into the chapel near the font.

He started stirring the water in the font.

‘Hey, leave that alone’ said someone else ‘that’s holy water, not for the likes of you, look at him he doesn’t even wash!’

Jess ignored them.

‘Do you want to remember? It might be painful.’

The man nodded slowly. Jess took some of the water in both hands and poured it over the man’s head, and then she took another handful and let the dog drink it. The man looked dazed and needed to sit down. After a few minutes he looked up at Jess and said:

‘My name is Michael. I was a paratrooper. We found a mine, and then...’

He began to weep, and Jess embraced him as he howled with pain and grief for about twenty minutes. People demanded they leave so the Mass could continue.

Jess lifted the man, led him out, and said over her shoulder as she left,

‘What is church for if not the cure of hearts and minds like Michael’s?’

The Parish priest stayed in church long after mass. The complainers went home and called the bishop.

Jess again took a bus to the Peak District as she wanted peace and quiet. Her companions accompanied her. However, many people from the Doncaster and Rotherham areas started following her, interested in seeing her for themselves due to her growing reputation.

Some of the crowd were from Sheffield, as word of her activities had spread far. To avoid being trampled, she sat on a large rock at Higgar Tor. Before speaking, she touched, listened to, and anointed many people with water and oil for soothing and healing. She especially listened to those who were disturbed or addicted, sensing they understood her message and her gifts. However, she insisted they not speak about it.

She would say

‘Just go and seek recovery, quietly, no fuss.’

At times, her friends were concerned that she might be overwhelmed by the crowd’s size. Many attributed her proficiency with oils and similar products due to her experience in the beauty industry, but the impact of her gifts was appreciably greater. Afterward, they went to Edale and climbed Jacob’s Ladder up to Kinder Scout. She selected a group of twelve to accompany her on the climb.

She instructed them to be her ambassadors, though they were not highly educated. One asked what she meant by ambassadors. She explained they would become her apprentices, learning to heal hearts and minds, and start the Great Turning. They had to spread the word about the Great Emergence and help others recover, but first, they must undergo the Great Change themselves.

These are the people she chose.

Rob Stuart (Jess gave him the nickname ‘Solid’)

Jeff and Julie Marsh (Jess nicknamed them the ‘Fire-Starters’)

Andy Green (Rob’s Best Mate)

Eddie Moss (A small time criminal who, on meeting Jess, had begun to change his ways)

Bethany Philips (A foster mother who was between children)

Jim Fitzgerald (the Job Centre Manager)

Tim Menzies (a computer nerd who lived with his parents, he spent his time mending people’s machines for beer money)

Josie Shepherd, (daughter of a disgraced councillor convicted of embezzling money, and was also unemployed.)

Bounty Treasure (an Afro-Caribbean woman who drove buses. She had been attacked by a passenger and was currently off work due to post-traumatic stress.)

Kumar Ahmed (a Pakistani from Rotherham), who had been arrested for suspected terrorist activities but was released due to lack of evidence.)

Davina Carroll (who was to betray Jess)

Having chosen her team, she took them back home to Edlington.

Crowds gathered whenever she went out, leaving them little time to eat. Her family arrived one morning as she was about to start a sharing round.

‘We’re taking you home’ they said, ‘and we aren’t taking no for answer. This is mad you are getting into deep water here; we all think you have delusions of grandeur. We want you sectioned’

But she ignored them, and they were unable to compel her as the crowd loved her and could have become ugly if they had tried to manhandle her, so she continued her work.

An ecumenical group of clergymen was dispatched by the authorities in London to thoroughly investigate the matter, as news of her had spread far and wide. After spending some time in this pursuit, they were interviewed by a local television news team. The reporter inquired.

‘Can you provide any insights into the source of this woman’s abilities?’

They answered:

‘We believe that she may be using a form of hypnotism learned from New Age practitioners she met during her visits to Derbyshire. She is said to be interested in several New Age activities, and it has been said that she uses Tarot Cards and Crystal healing. Engaging with unknown forces is often associated with the occult. There are also reports she works with groups who practice rituals at the stone circles in the Peak District.’

The news team went straight to Jess with this story,

‘People claim your power comes from a witches’ coven in Derbyshire, and that you’re involved with the occult. They say that’s how you’re curing the addicted and disturbed.’

Jess smiled,

‘Can I tell you a story?’

They nodded, seeking a good sound-bite for TV. She insisted they turn off the cameras first.

‘To deal with organised crime would you use one Mafia family to eliminate another? Surely it would only worsen the situation, as the new family would take over all the protection rackets. The problem remains unless you address the root causes of the crime. Similarly, to steal from a millionaire, you must disable all his alarm systems and get the safe combination to access his valuables.’

They looked confused.

‘So are you and your followers are trying to take over the Church,

is that what you are saying?’

She replied,

‘No, I want to disable the forces that imprison the human spirit.’

One reporter was tenacious.

‘The London clergy reckon you are achieving all this through occult powers, are you?’

She answered them forthrightly

‘You go back and tell them this. There is nothing that can be done or said that cannot be forgiven, but when you start confusing your own biased and self-serving judgments with the will of God, you are in danger of creating God in your own image, and that type of God never forgives anyone. Those who see evil in goodness are in a prison that goodness cannot free them from.’

The reporters were baffled, and the Church authorities were furious when her words were aired on television.

Jess’s immediate family appeared again but did not enter the hall. They sent a message asking her to come outside.

‘Your mother and brothers are outside and want to talk to you.’

Jess glanced at her group and spoke.

‘You are all my family—my mother, brothers, and sisters. Those who choose to be part of the Great Turning are my family.’

Accompanying Material

Here is the quote I mention in the Podcast from David C Korten’s The Great Turning:

Future generations, if there is a livable world for them, will look back at the epochal transition we are making to a life-sustaining society. And they may well call this the time of the Great Turning. Joanna Macy

By what name will our children and our children’s children call our time? Will they speak in anger and frustration of the time of the Great Unraveling, when profligate consumption led to an accelerating wave of collapsing environmental systems, violent competition for what remained of the planet’s resources, a dramatic dieback of the human population, and a fragmentation of those who remained into warring fiefdoms ruled by ruthless local lords? Or will they look back in joyful celebration on the noble time of the Great Turning, when their forebears turned crisis into opportunity, embraced the higher-order potential of their human nature, learned to live in creative partnership with one another and the living Earth, and brought forth a new era of human possibility? It is the premise of The Great Turning: From Empire to Earth Community that we humans stand at a defining moment that presents us with an irrevocable choice. Our collective response will determine how our time is remembered for so long as the human species survives. In the days now at hand, we must each be clear that every individual and collective choice we make is a vote for the future we of this time will bequeath to the generations that follow. The Great Turning is not a prophecy; it is a possibility.

Korten, David C.. The Great Turning: From Empire to Earth Community

The Second Quote is about the Kingdom of God:

The whole kingdom-of-God project, then, began as a community of people learning to love and play the music of the kingdom in the tradition of the Master and his original apprentices. The story of the kingdom is the story of this band of life-musicians over the last two thousand years. From parent to child, mentor to mentoree, teacher to student, friend to friend— the art of living, performing, and teaching in the kingdom of God has been passed down through centuries and passed on across continents. Often their music has been sweet and beautiful, but—we must admit this—too often it has also been ugly, out of tune, unworthy of the Master composer and musician they claim to follow. Often, after an especially bad season of disappointing performance when the art of the kingdom is nearly lost, a new master musician will arise and reinfuse the tradition with vitality and passion—a St. Patrick, a St. Francis, a Teresa of Avila, a Hildegard of Bingen, a John Wesley, a C. S. Lewis, a Desmond Tutu, a Mother Teresa. Many of us feel that the Christian tradition today is in need of some new artists who have the music of the kingdom deep in their souls to revive the tradition in our world, especially in the West.

McLaren, Brian D. The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything.

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Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Second Report - Edlington - May-June 2023

After a few weeks, Jess returned to Edlington, and word spread quickly that she was back. At her family home, people started coming by. In Edlington, they do not stand on ceremony. She welcomed each one and shared her heart with them.

The crowd gathered at the door to listen to her. A group of men arrived, carrying their friend on a makeshift stretcher fashioned from an old wooden door. He had been hurt in a work accident years ago, going from being a local football player to weighing nearly twenty-five stone, now regarded as morbidly obese by medical standards.

It took six people to carry him because he was too disabled to walk. They began to remove the window to move him into the house that way. This took an hour, and Jess was impressed by their dedication to their comrade. Her family was worried about damaging the window, but Jess focused on the man panting and weeping before her.

‘Get up, lad, and be released from this bondage in your body and from the trauma in your mind.’

One of the local health workers interrupted,

‘Hang on, we’ve been working with this guy for years, and you think you can just wave a magic wand and cure him?’

The local Vicar was present along with the Roman Catholic Parish priest. They also spoke up, saying,

‘What do you mean by saying that you release him? Only God can release people through the ministry of the Church.’

The Catholic priest muttered,

‘Attending mass occasionally could have helped.’

Jess picked up the murmurs and understood their source.

‘Be cautious; scepticism and self-preservation can hinder the Great Emergence. Which is easier to say: be released or get up and go to the hospital? But to demonstrate that the Great Emergence is genuine...’

She then turned to address the man,

‘Please get up, and let’s call an ambulance, then you can get the right medical help at the hospital.’

The man rolled over and, with the help of his friends, got to his feet. He stood in front of her, unsteady but determined. The ambulance arrived, and he hobbled slowly towards it. He was treated and not a minute too soon, the doctors said his organs were failing. He had a gastric band and lost more than ten stone. The villagers were amazed at the man’s transformation.

Later that day, after another sharing round at the Miner’s Welfare, Jess visited the local library where a Job Centre Plus event was happening. She saw Jim Fitzgerald, the Job Centre manager in Rotherham, who was unpopular for reporting benefit cheats. He called them spongers. Many exploited the system for small extras for their children or to spend at the bookies, but everyone hated Jim, even though he was from Edlington and had worked in the pit.

Jess simply said,

‘Why not work with me now?’

Jim immediately left the office and joined her.

Later that day, Jess and her friends were having tea at the house of Eddie Moss. He had a history of poaching and selling drugs from his home. Eddie had served time in prison for violence and was known to associate with people who had similar backgrounds. Many in Edlington preferred to steer clear of him. Jess met Eddie through some of his acquaintances who often spent time with her and became part of her circle.

After they had eaten, they went to the Miner’s Institute, where the local vicar and the Church Warden spoke to her in private.

‘What are you doing hanging around with these characters? They are criminals and bullies. They stole the lead off the church roof last year. Have you considered the example you are setting for our parishioners and law-abiding taxpayers?’

Jess responded to them in a flash,

‘Who visits the doctor: healthy folk or those needing help? I support those aware of their need for change, not those who believe they have everything figured out.’

Many people who spent time with Rumi The Drowner learnt the practice of abstaining from alcohol and fasting for a day each week to show solidarity with the poor. Additionally, some Muslim families in the area observed Ramadan, during which they abstain from eating or drinking during daylight hours. It was also Lent, and some members of the Church had given up various luxuries during this period.

Some of her growing band of critics confronted Jess at the pub during lunch while she was talking with her group and others who had requested to speak to her. One of them asked her, ‘Why are most devout religious people fasting while you are drinking and having fun?’

Jess considered the question before replying,

‘If your favourite football team has just won the FA Cup, you do not sit around with long faces; instead, you organise a street party, and everyone celebrates. As long as you are the cup winners, you should not deprive yourselves. The time will come when the cup is returned, and then the team can resume training; similarly, you can begin to exercise restraint and sobriety. No one would take their best suit and cut it up to patch old jeans. Likewise, the landlord here would not serve his finest bitter in old Coke tins, as it would go undrunk and be wasted. The change I am referring to is something entirely new.’

Jan Luis Segundo - An Hermeneutic Circle

On the podcast, I mention the Hermeneutic Circle of Jan Luis Segundo, a liberation theologian. Here is the gist of what he says.

The Four Steps of Segundo’s Hermeneutic Circle

Segundo described this method primarily in his book, *The Liberation of Theology* (1976), emphasising a ‘deideologising’ of theology.

1. Ideological Suspicion of Our World: We begin with our present, lived reality—specifically the situation of poverty, injustice, and dehumanisation in Latin America. This stage involves suspecting that the “accepted” or “objective” view of reality (ideology) is designed to protect existing power structures.

2. Ideological Suspicion of Theology: This suspicion is then applied to the entire ideological superstructure of traditional theology, questioning whether established interpretations are maintaining oppressive systems rather than promoting people.

3. New Way of Experiencing Reality: With these suspicions in mind, the interpreter approaches Scripture with a new, critical, and transformative mindset, seeking to understand the Word of God from the perspective of the oppressed.

4. New Hermeneutic (Interpretation): Finally, a new interpretation of the Bible is formed—one that is liberating, relevant to contemporary circumstances, and driven by a commitment to the humanisation of the continent.

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Poetry as Resistance
Written in Laugharne

A sweet resistance steals over me
to the flow of the hum-drumming, news-cycled
recycled, same as it ever was, broadcast world.

Then there are the noisy, cackle-croaked, black-capped
castellated rookeries of chatter above my head
from the crumbled-down, brown-as-owls castle.

This view of the reed-green, sea-green marshes
and the skittle-masted, taking the rising, named
hulls of sea breasting boats, in the lap-slapped,
laid-out estuary, that was yours before my time.

It has been tourist-boarded, info-boarded, signposted
to Dylan’s boathouse, the Birthday Walk, your spoken words
on driftwood installations and municipal bench slats.

Who has your courage, has your bluster and bombast,
to cut through the verbiage, the carnage, the fake outrage,
to write the seascapes, the estuaries, the channels of our dreams?

To articulate a whole town breathing, wreathing, interleaving,
reality in a cloudful of lark-song, spark home to love lighting,
the children’s feet in yearfuls of streams, the unforgotten tears.

That shed you wrote in, smote the page in, walked
the wobbly plank of lyrical fidelity in, your spoken pagecraft,
that collared our attention, a bright heaven of invention.

A life spent ticking the clock round to flashes of lucidity
to the high tides of liquidity where words are not weapons
but ploughshares to serenity, whispers of infancy,
litanies to the ordinary, and keepsakes of eternity.

Your writing shed still holds your shape,
flyting the lines out loud, your long lists of words
bare my antipathy to the shackling of language,
its captivity by the analytical, media-savvy.

I gaze in at the window and recall the old photo
I have of Dylan in this hut, gazing at the estuary,
willing to break the bread, to be revolutionary,
as the vocabulary of his resistance flows into me.

When I was in my thirties, I held the belief that as I grew older, the world would continue to progress towards a more sane, less violent, fairer, and less inequitable version of itself. Born in 1961, I believe the optimism of that period seeped into my soul, and much of what I witnessed seemed to support that optimism. The United Nations, the Wilson Government, thee needed was love! Even after Mrs Thatcher was elected and the post-war consensus was demolished, I still believed change was possible. And indeed, change they did, the Berlin Wall fell, the Good Friday Agreement was signed, Beatles — all w Nelson Mandela was released and became President of South Africa. It was, after all, just a longer walk to freedom.

Now that I am in my sixties, that optimism has proved to be less well-founded than I hoped; instead of a better world, we have been delivered into a world that Mark Carney described in his recent speech at Davos, quoting Thucydides.

‘It seems that every day we’re reminded that we live in an era of great power rivalry, that the rules-based order is fading, that the strong can do what they can, and the weak must suffer what they must.’

As the President of Canada, menaced by Trump’s America, he knows of what he speaks. This shift in the world order, or more precisely, disorder, has shocked me and left me wondering what any of us can do. These preoccupations have found their way into my writing, and as I gathered all my recent poems into a new collection, I realised that the concept of resistance has been developing in my psyche for some years now. An extended quote from Tolkien will help to clarify what I mean.

It seemed to them that Gandalf had never spoken so fair and fittingly to their lord. Rough and proud now seemed all his dealings with Théoden. And over their hearts crept a shadow, the fear of a great danger: the end of the Mark in a darkness to which Gandalf was driving them, while Saruman stood beside a door of escape, holding it half open so that a ray of light came through. There was a heavy silence. It was Gimli the dwarf who broke in suddenly. ‘The words of this wizard stand on their heads,’ he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. ‘In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain. But we do not come here to beg.’

JRR Tolkien: The Two Towers

This wonderful passage from the book—covered, but not as brilliantly, in the film—uncovers an archetypal evil that we are just beginning to wake up to again, though many have been warning of this for some time. This archetype of inversion is not new. It was certainly present in Soviet Russia, Nazi Germany, and many other totalitarian regimes. George Orwell in 1984 states it succinctly.

‘The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.’

I have been trying to summon my inner Gimli when he says, ‘The words of this Wizard stand on their heads ….. in the language of Orthanc, help means ruin, saving means slaying.’ When I was putting the collection together, I had the working title ‘Where do dreams come from?’, and my publishing advisor told me that although it had good Jungian connotations, it sounded a bit like a children’s book. Grudgingly, I took his point and went back through the book, finding that the poem at the top of this post decoded the rest and fitted the chapter headings under which I had gathered the poems.

We came up with this for the back cover.

Poetry has long been a vital tool to push back against the noise of modern life - and in this remarkable new collection, Adrian G R Scott gathers three years of poems that do exactly that.

Drawing on C. G. Jung and the rich world of dreams, he writes about growing up, family, faith, friendship (including the four-legged kind) and the moments that change a life.

From an American road trip with his son, through Lakota wisdom and the troubled legacy of the West, to long-loved Cumbrian fells and the ghost of Dylan Thomas in Laugharne, Scott seeks wilder ways of seeing that resist “the hum-drumming, news-cycled, recycled, same as it ever was, broadcast world”.

At the book’s core are poems that stiffen the sinews of resistance: against authoritarianism and war, against the corrosion of the Welfare State and its “five giant evils” of ignorance, want, idleness, disease and squalor.

Finally, in dialogue with Russian resistance poets Osip Mandelstam and Anna Akhmatova, and facing the realities of mortality, Scott offers a humane, hard-won hope.

I am going to launch this collection at the end of March in Sheffield and on my website, as well as share various pieces from the book on this platform. All with the intention of stiffening the sinews of resistance. The cover image depicts the former home of the poet Dylan Thomas, and the poem was written in the town of Laugharne, where he lived. He inspired me to rail against the ‘shackling of language’—to not use words as weapons but as ‘ploughshares to serenity, whispers of infancy, litanies to the ordinary, and keepsakes of eternity.’

It seems that every time I watch the news, listen to talk radio, browse social media, or read my print media feeds, there's another example of the language of Orthanc. The horrific actions of Donald Trump’s ICE and Border Patrol agents resemble the paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party in the 1920s and 1930s, which was crucial to Hitler’s rise to totalitarianism. The barefaced justifications by his cabinet are exemplified by Pam Bondi’s performance before the House Judiciary Committee, where she declined to apologise to the victims of Epstein standing behind her. In the UK, the constant platforming of Reform as an insurgent political force rather than the reconstituted corpse of UKIP and the failed Conservative government of Boris Johnson. All this is a form of gaslighting of ordinary people who are struggling to make ends meet and looking for meaningful change. Unfortunately, it is the kind of change that takes years, rather than the instant fixes that usually entail scapegoating and persuading you to act in direct opposition to your own interests.

The book is my own paltry attempt to chart the inner work and the creative spark that helps ferment a deep-seated resistance to the language of Orthanc. The book is my own paltry attempt to explore the inner workings and the creative spark that helps ferment a deep-rooted resistance to the language of Orthanc. The optimism of my early years may have faded. As the blurb on the back of my book states, I have now discovered humane and hard-won hope. It is my way of responding to another movement in The Lord of the Rings. The optimism of my early years may have evaporated. As the blurb on the back of my book says, I have now found humane and hard-won hope. It is my way of responding to another movement in The Lord of the Rings.

‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo. ‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’

Tolkien, J. R. R. The Fellowship of the Ring

The hard-won hope is based on this other archetypal movement, which JRR The hard-won hope is rooted in another archetypal movement, which J.R.R. Tolkien referred to as eucatastrophe. When discussing Frodo’s wish that Gollum had been put to death, Gandalf states: Tolkien called eucatastrophe. When speaking of Frodo’s wish that Gollum had been put to death, Gandalf has this to say:

For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many – yours not least.

Tolkien, J. R. R.. The Fellowship of the Ring

It is a hope that these dark times contain within themselves the seeds of their own overturning. A καταστροφή isand placing ευ- ("good") in front of it aptly describes this seed. It is all ruled by the great virtues of pity, compassion, kindness, forbearance, gentleness, courage, truthfulness, non-cooperation with injustice, and love. These are the virtues of resistance. Tolkien wrote about this in a letter to his son Christopher. a sudden turn,

I was there led to the view that [eucatastrophe] produces [joy at the turn of a Happy Ending] because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. (...) the Resurrection was the greatest 'eucatastrophe' possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love.

Joy is joy, whether Christian or not, I would say, and it comes after the Night Sea Journey, the descent into Hades, the emergence from the belly of the leviathan. I hope that publishing this collection is part of doing something with the time given to me and contributes to the vocabulary of resistance. Resistance thatof eυkαταστροφή. sows the seeds

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Welcome to the Jess Jennigs Incident - A Miniseries by the Anxious Poet - Adrian Scott

An experiment in imaging what might happen if the Gospel of Mark, written in the first century of the Common Era, were to occur in the 21st century in South Yorkshire and beyond. Oh, and the figure of Jesus is now a woman, a hairdresser from Edlington, an ex-pit town near Doncaster, and she is called Jess Jennings.

These Posts are to be read in conjunction with the miniseries on my Anxious Poet’s Podcast.

Introduction

My name is Mark Widdowson. I am a thirty-six-year-old journalist who has unearthed an incredible story that was highly sought after in my industry and beyond.

I left school at sixteen with a couple of GCSEs, including English. After working as a waiter for a few years, I discovered a passion for writing stories and began an online Report about the Sheffield music scene, which gained a decent following. One night at a gig, I met a journalist from the Doncaster Free Press who encouraged me to submit pieces for the paper’s online and offline content. They accepted my submissions, and I started working as a freelance journalist, initially covering gigs. As they gained confidence in my work, I was given assignments for other jobs. While living in Sheffield, I submitted pieces to the Sheffield Star and Telegraph. This enabled me to make a living, though it was somewhat precarious.

Last year, I covered a story about Jess Jennings, a forty-year-old hairdresser from Edlington. A commotion broke out at St Peter in Chains, Doncaster’s Catholic church, after a homeless man caused trouble. Jennings prevented parishioners from calling the police and reportedly inspired a positive change in the man. Rumours circulated that she was a healer. My editor, keen on unusual stories to spice up the paper, sent me because of my talent for church stories. You see, my other GCSE was in RE. As a Roman Catholic who had regularly attended church as a youth, I understood it well. I had written about a few fetes and a vicar’s affair in Doncaster that made it to the tabloids, which is always impressive when your story goes national.

I interviewed the homeless man from St Peter’s. He was deeply affected by Jess Jennings. Personally, I stopped attending mass as soon as I could choose for myself and rarely thought about religion, but Jess intrigued me. She was unique; controversy always surrounded her, making life exhilarating. Initially, I was interested because she made great stories, but it quickly became personal. Despite several attempts, she consistently refused to be interviewed.

When I was in Bamford, on the day she met the escaped psychiatric ward patient, I intended to file the story with the Star. On the train back to Sheffield, she offered me exclusive interviews if I stopped working for the Press. I asked her where to publish, and she recommended an independent series of online reports. She wanted her work for the Great Turning to be covered by someone with a journalist’s instincts but without an editor’s axe grinding away in the background.

These reports chronicle Jess Jennings’s extraordinary journey, written swiftly as events unfolded. I posted them in real-time, following her across the country. Editors were pestering me for more as she gained notoriety. I could have made a fortune. What began as a journalist’s interest became a personal odyssey. I never imagined being part of such remarkable events. The days in London were incredible, and her treatment by the authorities must be exposed. I need to share this before they silence me.

I’ve updated the Reports for this Substack based on what I now know – but they remain the unvarnished truth. I have aimed to be objective so you can form your own opinion about her. I admit I’d be sceptical if I were reading these posts for the first time, but this is genuinely what I witnessed, although I have also included others’ firsthand accounts. Although she didn’t reappear to me personally, others close to her claim they saw her, and I trust them—they have no reason to deceive me.

I will be abroad when this is released. I’m worried about the consequences and prefer to be somewhere less accessible. My posts have been removed multiple times, but I keep finding new platforms to share them. If you have them in front of you now, perhaps you were meant to read them. So I invite you to consider this question: whatever you believe happened to Jess Jennings after her death, what circumstances could have led the establishment to feel sufficiently threatened to take such extreme action?

Sheffield - May 2025

First Report - Edlington - May 2023

Jess Jennings started out as an ordinary woman, but she quickly became extraordinary. Religious folks saw her as a Guru or Prophet, political types viewed her as a revolutionary leader, and many felt she gave their lives meaning. Despite this, none of these qualities was apparent at first; at first, she seemed just like everyone else.

There was a character that unconventional types believed was foretold by Mayan prophecies. New Age websites predicted he would bring a new era or possibly the end of the world.

One interviewee mentioned that many people had a shared dream of a voice shouting in a desert:

‘Look, a broadcaster is coming to sound the alert!’

The websites and individuals I came across all conveyed the same message:

‘Prepare for something new. Get ready for a change.’ My own experience confirmed it: he was a powerful voice in both urban wastelands and wild deserted places.

Jed, who changed his name to Jalal Rumi after adopting Sufi Islam, wore maroon robes and abstained from alcohol and meat. He recited mystical poetry that resonated deeply. A nature enthusiast, he knew how to find edible wild plants and roots. People would gather where he appeared, often on deserted building sites, but he preferred the brooks around Grindleford in the Peak District.

He would stand waist-deep in the water, have people strip naked, and immerse them in the river. When they surfaced, gasping for air, he gave them a red cotton scarf as a symbol of change. They called him the Drowner.

He attracted a diverse crowd, including professionals and street people, telling them this was a way of dying. He urged them to abandon their addictions and dependencies for a new life, prioritising what truly matters. Unlike church baptisms with a few drops of water, he referred to it as The Drowning. He told them,

‘I’m not the real star here. She’s coming soon. I’m just the opening act, but she’s the main event. My drowning is a brief change; hers will immerse you into a whole new world filled with mystery.’

Jess arrived from the former mining village of Edlington near Rotherham. She travelled by train to Grindleford, then proceeded up the valley to find the Drowner. He immersed her in the brook, as he had done with others before; she surfaced gasping and breathless. A shaft of sunlight shone on her, and she felt as if a beautiful bird, perhaps an owl, had flown down and touched her. She heard a voice saying,

‘You are now the most lovable, ready to love, and your Great Emergence is here.’

Immediately after this, the same force took her to Kinder Scout, a remote and desolate area known as the Dark Peak. For nearly a month and a half, she stayed there without eating, although she must have drunk something to survive. She had no tent and simply endured the conditions. During that time, she experienced various possibilities, likely influenced by hunger-induced hallucinations and visions. Still, she remained grounded and waited for the guidance that had initially come with the bird to develop within her. Initially, the place seemed to reflect her night terrors, but she soon realised she was safe and had companions in the wild animals. She experienced revelations, finding that both inner and outer darkness became her helpers, with strange powers caring for her.

Rumi was arrested for causing a public nuisance by attracting large crowds in a tourist area. The police reportedly planted drugs on him to discredit him. He was held on remand with allegations of being an agitator with links to al-Qaeda.

Jess descended from Kinder Scout at this time and returned to Doncaster by bus. She commenced speaking at various venues where people would assemble and listen, including parish rooms, memorial halls, pubs, and working men’s clubs.

She conveyed a message from the Great Silence:

‘It’s time to change, not just think about it. The change is within you, waiting to be found. True happiness comes from within, not from materialism or joining groups. Accept this now, for this is the Great Emergence.’

As Jess walked down Edlington High Street, she saw Rob Stuart and Andy Green heading to sign on. The men, in their mid-twenties, had been in and out of casual work since they left school. Jess approached them and said,

‘Guys, I know you’re tired of being on the dole. Come with me, and I’ll show you a different kind of work that uses all your time and energy, making you agents of change.’

They looked at each other, initially surprised to be addressed in that manner, but her strong sense of purpose made them follow her immediately; they didn’t pause even to sign on.

At the Tasty Bites café, Jess saw siblings Joe and Julie Marsh eating bacon sandwiches and looking at job adverts on their mobile phones. Jess invited them to join her, Rob, and Andy. Both in their mid-twenties, they accepted, put down their phones, finished their tea, and left with Jess.

Jess had been known to the community all her life. She worked in her mother’s hairdresser salon after leaving school at sixteen and eventually took it over when her mother retired. Though familiar, she now appeared different. Her sense of mission led people to look past their male prejudices and female suspicion and listen to her.

On Sunday, Jess made them walk to Doncaster to experience life on foot. She took them to St Peter’s Church. After mass, she spoke in the local hall. The directness of her words surprised many; she addressed real issues confidently and earnestly, straight from her soul.

Suddenly, a local homeless man, visibly disturbed and intoxicated, caused a commotion at the back of the hall. He began shouting and swearing at Jess, frightening the crowd as he moved forward. He screamed at the top of his voice:

‘Why don’t you just fuck off back to where you came from? I know you, you’re just another do-gooder only interested in posh people, all words and no help for the likes of me.’

Jess approached the man, who was visibly agitated, his fists clenched. She guided him to a seat in the front row, where he sat down, and she began conversing with him. The man quickly calmed down, and Jess asked someone to prepare a coffee and a sandwich for him. She continued speaking softly to the man while everyone observed. Then she addressed the audience more loudly.

‘Phil has struggled greatly, becoming addicted to alcohol. He’s agreed to listen quietly, and afterwards we’ll discuss how to find a way out of his life’s difficulties. Is everyone okay with that?’

Most agreed quietly. They whispered,

‘She talks about changing lives, and it starts here. If she can handle this man, what else can she do?’

The Advertiser covered the event, interviewing Phil and others. Jess took Phil to a rehab unit and convinced them to admit him immediately.

Phil was quoted as saying,

‘I don’t know who she was, but she had an electric presence that made you believe in yourself and feel her encouragement.’

After leaving the hall, they took a bus to Edlington, funded by a donation. They visited Rob and Andy’s terrace house on Baines Road, third from the end. Joe and Julie joined them. Jess met Rob’s family: his wife Bethany, and their children Nathan and Ryan. Bethany’s mum was seriously ill upstairs, possibly with pneumonia, and the doctor had said he would return in the morning.

Jess asked if she could see her and was allowed upstairs. Jess closed her eyes and laid her hands on the woman’s head and became very quiet. The woman named Shirley, in her late fifties, stirred and the colour returned to her cheeks. She said she felt much better and would get up. Within half an hour, she was downstairs preparing something to eat and making a pot of tea.

In the evening, Rob and others brought families into the front room to see Jess. She healed sick children, elderly people with various ailments, and even those struggling with addiction. Jess told everyone to keep the events private, and this continued late into the night.

Before dawn, while it was still dark, she rose from the sofa where she had been sleeping and proceeded to the fields near old Edlington. She sat there for over an hour, wrapped in a blanket, maintaining deep silence. When Rob and the others awoke and realised her absence, they went searching for her. Upon finding her, they were annoyed and said,

‘Everyone is searching for you.’

Jess replied,

‘Let’s visit the nearby towns—Maltby, Askern, Rossington, Stainforth. I want to reach as many ordinary people as possible.’

She repeated her routine from St Peter’s: discussing The Great Emergence, aiding recovery, and supporting the addicted. She stayed up late and rose early for solitude before moving to the next town.

A haemophiliac man in his late thirties, who contracted HIV from blood transfusions, approached her in Rossington. His neighbours had driven him out, fearing infection and whispering terrible prejudices about him having the gay plague. He pleaded with Jess, saying,

‘I know you can help me.’

Jess, very emotional, hugged the man as he sobbed. She gently held his face, looked into his eyes

‘I do want to help you recover.’ She whispered.

From then on, Jess avoided her usual haunts to prevent being mobbed by crowds. Despite efforts to keep a low profile and find time to eat and rest, she was still frequently spotted on the crags or country roads by crowds from increasingly farther afield.