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It was a clear skied August day in the bustling Alpine resort. Holiday makers rubbed shoulders with locals in the outdoor cafes and bars that surrounded the busy market place. Fashionable young Italians paraded themselves around the square, while older jacketed men played backgammon under the shade of the olive trees by the central fountain. It was a timeless and tranquil scene, only broken by the arrival of the gleaming red open-top Lotus.

All heads turned at the sound of the thumping music that emanated from the car’s stereo as it drew up at the pedestrian crossing by one of the alfresco bars; the driver clearly looking for admiration as he proudly showed-off his handsome vehicle and his cargo of exquisitely beautiful young ladies. An almost hypnotic spell descended upon the on-looking crowd as the middle aged man behind the wheel soaked up the attention with a pompous smile and general air of self importance. The feeling of envy and awe in those watching could have remained unbroken had it not been for the clown who, by chance, was waiting at the crossing as the driver pulled up.

Seeing the arrogance and superiority of the Lotus owner, and perhaps sensing the effect his Lording-over was having on the crowd, the clown sidled up to the car, squatted down in a mimed seated position next to the driver, stretched out his arms in front of himself as if holding a steering wheel, and honked his imaginary horn before combing his fingers back through his hair as one might imagine the slick looking man next to him doing. The effect on both the onlookers and the driver was instantaneous. Envy and awe were replaced by mirth and laughter; the driver’s self-importance and attention seeking were suddenly deflated by shame and embarrassment. As the clown continued on his journey across the road and the driver sped off out of town, a lightness and feeling of joyful commonality was shared by all in the square.

A series of bus adverts greeted our family on our return from Canada a few weeks ago. “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” The author of the slogan is Richard Dawkins, England’s most famous atheist, considered by some to be one of the most intelligent men in the world. His book, The God Delusion, was published two years ago and was a huge bestseller.

I first heard about these bus slogans from my mother in Winnipeg. I have actually received a number emails from Canada about the bus slogans. People want to know how the LMC is responding to this incredible event, this latest illustration of western Post-Christianity. My feeling is that while this slogan has been front page news in North America, it has not been viewed as much of an incredible event in London. I have not heard any Londoners ask me how the LMC is responding to the slogan. Nor has the topic come up in conversation unless I initiated it.

Nevertheless, big deal or not, I do think believers need to respond.

Of course, there are people in London who have been upset by the slogans and who have decided to respond with bus slogans of their own. Perhaps you will also have seen some of these (overhead). This is the only one I have seen so far: Quoting Psalm 53:1, it reads: “The fool hath said in his heart: There is no God.” An upcoming message from the Russian Orthodox Church will read: "There is a God. Don't worry. Enjoy your life!" I can appreciate that particular response and its positive contribution to the debate, but not the one pictured here. The responses to Dawkins which I have seen coming out of North America have also been very dismissive, like this one. But let’s face it, the fact that this slogan comes from the Bible would be completely meaningless to Dawkins and his fellow atheists who view the Bible as at best an interesting work of literature. So all this slogan does is call Dawkins and his fellow atheists fools. Not a particularly constructive response.

During the Lebanon War of 1982, Palestinian civilians in two refugee camps in Beirut were slaughtered by the Christian Phalangist militia as revenge for the assassination of Lebanese president Bashir Gemayel. The Israeli army which had invaded south Lebanon was in control of these camps, but they were allied with the Phalangists and did nothing to prevent the massacre. That is the historical backdrop to what is, for me, the most extraordinary film of 2008.

Waltz With Bashir, the favourite to win Best Foreign Language Film at the upcoming Academy Awards, is a brilliant animated film in the tradition of Richard Linklater’s Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly, two of my favourite films of the past decade. The stunning animation turns out to be the perfect medium for telling the true story of an Israeli documentary filmmaker (Ari Folman, the film’s writer and director) trying to remember his participation (as a young soldier) in the horrific massacre described above. Unfolding like a detective story, the film follows Folman as he tracks down leads and interviews his fellow soldiers to find clues to his buried memories. By telling the story in this way, Folman is able to focus on the varied experiences of Israeli soldiers during and after the Lebanon War, delivering profound psychological insights and a strong anti-war message in the process.

Folman is careful not to get into the politics of the Israeli invasion, which is probably wise in that it was made with Israeli government support and will get a much more sympathetic viewing in Israel as a result. But what the film does do is humanize the Palestinian victims of the massacre in such a way that it must give the Israeli people pause as their army attacks Gaza and oppresses the Palestinians living in the West Bank. This oppression has gone on for decades and is one of the key factors in the violence that has plagued the Middle East during the past forty years.

For those of us who have been appalled by the Israeli treatment of the Palestinians, Waltz With Bashir is particularly important for the way it also humanizes the Israeli soldiers, putting us in their shoes in a way that only an animated documentary could do. The psychological journey on which Folman leads us is as painful to watch as it is acute in its observations and I was kept absolutely riveted to the screen throughout.

Urban Expression invites Root and Branch readers to consider the following opportunities:

Essex: New leader(s) needed. Six years after starting Church from Scratch, in Essex, Urban Expression Associates Peter & Alison Dominey are moving to the edge of the new church to spend increasing time facilitating church planting in the region. The church would benefit from a full-time missional leader coming into the middle to develop the church. Information on this opportunity at www.churchfromscratch.org Post funded by Baptist Home Mission Fund, limiting potential candidates to Baptist Ministers – sorry!

Glasgow: The Urban Expression steering group in Glasgow plans to appoint someone to work part time between March and October 2009 to help recruit further Urban Expression teams to work in the city. If you are interested or know anyone who might be suitable, please contact Peter Neilson: neilson.peter@btinternet.com.

Manchester: new Urban Expression team members wanted to join the Newton Heath team – evangelists and youth workers especially – and the emerging team in Victoria Park. More details from enquiries@urbanexpression.org.uk.

Birmingham: team members wanted to join new church planting teams in East Birmingham. There will be an open event for anyone interested on Saturday 21 March (3-5) at the International Mission Centre, 24 Weoley Park Road, Birmingham B29 6QX).

Bristol: team members wanted to join new church planting teams in East and South Bristol. There will be an open evening for anyone interested on Tuesday 12 May at St Mark's Church, St Mark's Road, Easton, Bristol.

Incarnate: Development Worker wanted for this (mainly) Baptist church planting network: 10 hours/week for 2 years at £20,000/anum pro rata. Apply by 7th April. Download full information at www.incarnate-network.eu or contact Adam Eakins: adameakins@tiscali.co.uk or 07855 862707.

Last Sunday evening I was sitting at a table sharing the peace-meal with a group in Bristol, when I got talking with the lady next to me who I had just met for the fist time. The conversation unfolded around the use of the name ‘Anabaptism’ (re-baptiser) and how fascinating it is how other people actually see us. “I am much more interested in what other people call us than what we call ourselves” she said. Of course Acts 11:26 came to mind, where in Antioch the followers of Jesus were first called ‘Christians’ or ‘little Messiahs’. You can imagine the accusing finger, “So you think you are little messiah’s do you?” A reflective pause, and then the confident reply, “Yes, that’s right!”

The radical reformers of the 16th Century were the frequent butt of name-calling. We have mentioned ‘Anabaptist’ because they practiced re-baptism on confession of faith and so laid an axe at the very foundations of Christendom. But there were many other jibes too. They were called ‘Donatists’ and ‘Cathari’ after the 5th and 13th Century dissident groups who had been branded ‘heretics’ (‘those who think differently’) because of their desire for an authentic church that was pure in heart and practice and free from the controls of the state. They were also called ‘staff-carriers’ because of their commitment to non-violence and refusal to wear a sword, and ‘communists’ because they shared their possessions and finances in community. They were ‘clandestines’ because they did not meet in church buildings and ‘faction-makers’ because among other things they refused to take the oath (another threat to society). They were also ‘sacramentarians’ because they insisted that faith had to be both living and life transforming and accessible to ordinary people in their mother tongue, not dead rituals in Latin.

The word ‘mission’ is an awkward word. On one hand it can evoke an image of 19th Century missionaries in pith helmets preaching to indigenous peoples in some impenetrable rainforest, or a revivalist meeting full of sound and fury; while in contrast contemporary uses of ‘mission’ suggest business executive boardrooms planning marketing strategies, or perhaps a clandestine military operation behind enemy lines to achieve decisive goals that will turn the conflict into victory.

‘Compassion’, on the other hand, begins with ‘suffering’, from the Latin word passivus – ‘to suffer’. At first glance it appears to suggest the passive acceptance of suffering, but how meanings change! Passion is about strong feelings, even indignant rage, or perhaps outbursts of fervent love, desire and surging enthusiasm. But of course the word is ‘compassion’, which is about identification, ‘suffering with’, standing in solidarity in either anger or love, or both.

For those who have been listening to the growing clamour and cries of "persecution" amongst certain groups of Christians over the last few years, the latest examples come as no surprise.

In 2007 one evangelical MP even raised the spectre of "Christianophobia" in a debate in the House of Commons. I was asked to come on Radio 4's Sunday Programme to discuss the idea with Mark Pritchard, the Tory in question, and dispute his claims. However I was subsequently called by the producer to say that the MP had refused to debate with me. Apparently Pritchard doesn't believe that Christians should be seen to disagree publicly.

But the MP has been quite prepared to publicly criticise the Archbishop of Canterbury – so it seems there must have been another reason. When examined carefully, the alarmist claims being made simply don't stand up to scrutiny. As others have observed, it is a few small groups of Christians who are fuelling the scare stories of Christian marginalisation that appear in the rightwing press.