I write this freshly back from a reactionary weekend in the Scottish Borders, where I was made a godfather in a christening and did not have to renounce Satan. Which was a relief.
It’s not that I have any objection to renouncing Satan per se. It’s not like we’re on speaking terms. It’s just that whenever I’ve heard new godparents do just that, in church, I wonder at the point. Surely Satan would be okay with you just lying about it. Isn’t that rather the point of Satan? ‘I can’t believe you fibbed in a church!’ the Prince of Lies would not say. You know? It just doesn’t seem like much of a failsafe.
Still, no Satanic renunciations for me. I just had to promise to raise my new godson, should it ever directly fall to me, as a Christian. This might sound an odd thing to pledge, given that I am, as a man called Brian once put it, a kike, a yid, a heebie, a hook-nose, a Red Sea pedestrian, etc. But it’s really not something with which I have a problem. Other people’s religions pose no problem for me. I’m rather an Anglican agnostic rationalist Jewish disestablishmentarian, in this respect. Last weekend reminded me why.
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This was nowhere in particular. I shan’t tell you exactly where, because of what follows, but there are glamorous bits of the Borders and this wasn’t one of them. My host was baptising his second son, just because round his way that’s what you do and it’s an excuse to have a party. The church was tiny, maybe twice the size of your living room, with a balcony upstairs. They were in the same place three years ago, for his eldest.
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