The Prime Minister Theresa May says she knows what you are better than you do. She says that a citizen of the world is a citizen of nowhere - although most scientists and philosophers would argue, on the contrary, that the world is quite definitely somewhere. The fragile contours of our small blue planet are quite easily identifiable to any passing asteroid.

Jerusalem – Urusalim to the Canaanites – City of Shalem, god of the Evening Star. In Hebrew, Yerushalayim – the City of Peace. In Arabic, al-Quds – simply The Holy.  So many names, so much unresolved. Jerusalem has serious issues.

I will simply die, as you will simply die, when our hearts stop beating. And instead of the fires of Hell or the clouds of Heaven, there will be a chorus of hungry worms or fish, depending on how we go. Isn’t that what really terrifies you most of all, why you force yourself against all reason to believe in such tales? It’s because you’re afraid of the nothingness at the end. You’re ashamed of it.

When I am asked why I have left England, I say that I am in "Brexile". It goes down well.

Them-and-us nationalism has been done before. We have seen where that leads: it does not end well. Nationality is as vaporous and as insubstantial as a collective dream, no more spiritual than a National Insurance number and no less randomly bestowed: determined by chance, conditioned by prejudice. We have moved beyond the apeman's horizon. We have. Surely we have.

Have you noticed, it's always the nationalists who deny climate change," says Eve. "Like they can't handle the challenge of thinking globally. I just wish they didn't take us all down with them.

Nationalism is ultimately unethical, not merely because it is an inauthentic posture, but because it imposes limitations on the authenticity of others.

The border of a nationality does not exist ‘in-itself’ in the same way that, say, a mountain, a shell or the moon exists. The border of a nationality is a condition that exists, if it can be said to exist at all, in the mind of the one who passively accepts it as existing. It is a ready-cut cloth, a costume, a fabricated flag, which is used to cover our nothingness.

Peter didn’t go quietly to his Gethsemane. He refused to drink from the cup that he had forced so many others to drink.

It is near time to speak of Peter – not the saint, but the Bishop of Lewes.  Gethsemane was significant to Peter. He made it significant to others.  There is a house in the South Downs of England, between Berwick and Wilmington, a bishop’s house – a former bishop – where the Garden of Gethsemane was made manifest.