I read the news today – oh boy!

OK – ‘ fess up: have you or have you not been guilty of schadenfreude this morning? As you spooned your cereal into your face and word came through that President Donald Trump and his wife had contracted Covid-19, did you suppress a little yip of joy? Or did you kick over your chair and dance around the kitchen, fists pumping the air, yelling “Maybe NOW you’ll take the virus seriously!”

You may even have gone beyond that. Rather than offering up a quick prayer for the poor man, you may have felt a small hope inside you growing bigger as you thought about whether Donald J would bounce back, or might, like that other overweight leader Boris Johnson, be trundled into ICU and have a pipe shoved into his face.

It’s all very unChristian and I would be very critical of such responses, except that I share them myself. In fact, before Covid struck the Big One,  I confess to fantasies where politics goes into a time-warp and not Kennedy but Trump is in Dallas and Lee Harvey Oswald (if you believe the official version) gets the US president in his sights and…

But that’s bad. I wish long life and health to Donald Trump. I just don’t want him to get the health bit until, say, 10 November 2020.  After that I hope he and his wife live out their days at a nice sunlit golf-course residence,  far far away from the levers of power. And, of course, books.

Final thought: some people have asked themselves ‘Why would a loving God allow Covid-19 to happen?’ Maybe this morning’s news gave you an answer.

OK, now. Settle and finish your breakfast – it’s nearly lunch-time.

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