2 thoughts on “Rev Marie-Elsa Roche Bragg, author, priest, therapist and Duty Chaplain of Westminster Abbey

  1. The Rev has a good point that we should all try and appreciate life more. Listening to the news often makes you think that there is no good news around.
    I love football, and for the four weeks of the Euros I barely watched the news. Others will have done the same for Wimbledon, the one day cricket internationals or the Lions tour, and I am looking forward to enjoying the Olympics too. These are our chance to metaphorically smell the roses.
    But where was the supernatural in this TFTD? A brief mention of the obscure Song of Songs and the words “parable” and “sacred” thrown in doth not make this a religious broadcast, surely? And what is sacred about smelling a member of the family Rosaceae? I enjoy doing so regularly without any religious thoughts encumbering my enjoyment of nature.

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  2. This was straight out of the Mrs C F Alexander school of blinkered platitudes, with a delivery style that was way off the top of the oleaginous scale. Does Ms Roche Bragg see herself as the Nigella of TFTD? She was certainly putting her all into this one.

    “Keep smelling the roses …there, for me, the very essence of how things were created to be…. an inspiration to our souls… a bigger fragrant picture that fights for what is true and sacred in this world.”

    Yes, once again the IMF gets the praise for all the nice things, and all the nasties are not of his making – oh no; nothing ‘sacred’ about the Holy Virus. What Ms Roche Bragg overlooks is that the lovely, blousy roses she credits to her IMF were in fact the work of several generations of clever and dedicated horticulturalists, and nothing like the wild roses her IMF ‘created’ at all, and not how ‘he’ intended them to be. Very little of what we see day by day in nature is at all natural – our domestic pets and farm livestock, our cultivated landscapes and hybridised crops and garden plants bear little resemblance to their originals; they’re all the work of humankind.

    I was reminded of the old story of the Vicar who, admiring a cottage garden in the village, speaks to the lowly cottar, leaning on his fence. “What a wonderful job you have done in this garden, my man – you and the Lord God together.” “Arh,” replied the cottar, “but you should have seen the right mess it was when the Lord God had it to hisself.”

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