by Martyn Percy
Fourth in a series of Reflections
In Kazuo Ishoguro’s 1989 novel The Remains of the Day, we are introduced to Stevens, a butler who dedicated his life to the loyal service of Lord Darlington at his stately home near Oxford, England. Told in the first person, the novel is set In 1956, when Stevens takes a road trip to visit a former colleague. As he travels he reminisces about events at Darlington Hall in the1920s and 1930s.
We learn that Stevens was in love with Miss Kenton (the housekeeper) at Darlington Hall, Lord Darlington’s estate. Stevens and Miss Kenton failed to admit their true feelings for each other. Their conversations as, recollected by Stevens show a professional friendship, and which at times came close to blossoming into romance. At the same time emotional reserve and professional resolve mean it is a line neither dared to cross. Stevens remained distant and never yielded, even when Miss Kenton tried to draw closer to him. As the book progresses, we also learn that Lord Darlington was a Nazi sympathizer.
When they finally meet again, many years later, Kenton has married and expecting a grandchild. Stevens later muses over his lost opportunities with Kenton. But he also comes to review and regret his decades of selfless service to Lord Darlington, whom he reflects may not have actually been worthy of his unquestioning fealty. Ishoguro’s novel offers us soft yet brutal exposure to the worldview of Stevens and those he serves.
Stevens champions dignity, emotional restraint, and the special qualities that make English butlers the best. ‘Continentals’ are dismissed for their emotional incontinence, and Celts for the fiery tempers. The English, on the other hand, are reserved, restrained and appropriately reverential n a kind of slow parody, Stevens’ elderly father – also a former butler dedicated to a life of service – is dying upstairs. Messages are sent to his son that his father is dying. But the reply is telling: “I’m afraid we’re extremely busy now…but we can talk again in the morning”.
As the death of his father is imminent, the strain begins to show on Stevens. But he carries on, regardless. As Salman Rushdie remarked “[Stevens is] destroyed by the ideas upon which he had built his life”. Much like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, we have a story that is also a critique of class, deference and emotional constipation. Stevens is a character who believes the best way to control the external chaos is by making dignity and emotional restraint internally sacrosanct. So much so, that the irrational-sacredness invested in by Stevens is believed to deliver him both safety and reward. It does neither.
There is also a sense in which Ishoguro’s novel is an exploration of the unwritten constitutions in work, society, families and other groups that are held to be sacrosanct. To question these codes is to trespass; to break the club rules is to sin; to mock the conventions is to violate the group and all it holds sacred.
‘Respair’ is an old word that one hardly ever uses these days. The opposite of ‘despair’, ‘to respair’ is to have fresh hope, and to move beyond the gloom of desolation and despondency and have faith in the future. Despair is to see no light at the end of the tunnel. Or, if you do happen to glimpse a twinkling light in the distance, it is the proverbial train hurtling towards you – so time to run and hide. Yet there is hope.
Hope may be the most important virtue humanity possesses. It believes in better, so does not despair of the present (though some exasperation is normal and perfectly permissible!). Hope can maintain relationships in rocky times. It raises our children and educates them. Hope does not give up. It wants the best for others. It is deeply rooted in God’s grace and goodness. It is turned towards a greater light and the promise of our best for all individuals, communities and countries being realised. And their best for you. It yearns, as we all do, for justice, integrity, peace, truth and kindness to flourish.
The very first words that God utters in the scriptures (Genesis) link to some of the very last words (Revelation):
God said, “Let there be light” (Genesis 1: 3, RNJB).
[The Eternal City] “…has no need of sun or moon to give it light, for the Glory of God its light…the nations will walk in its light… (the city) gates will never be closed…and there will be no more night; they will not need lamplight or sunlight, because the Lord God will be their light…” (Revelation 21 & 22, RNJB)
It is into the darkness and the formless chaos that God first speaks – and light appears. Light is the first thing in these opening verses of the scriptures that God declares to be “good”. In a world where much tragedy brings darkness, and where much sin lingers in the shadows, we need to be reminded that the light God speaks into existence is “good”. It is that constant reminder, in our everyday lives, of the utter goodness, provision and love of God’s creative work. In a world where even now, and in so many places, darkness overwhelms households, communities, nations and lives, we yearn for the coming of light. Beyond the global challenges, our own lives also cry out for light – those places and circumstances in our lives where darkness has overshadowed us, and light seems far, far way. An end to restrictions, impositions, isolation and marginalisation. An end to loneliness and suffering. An end to abuse and the shame and pain it brings. An end to wars, to injustice, to suffering, to poverty, to hunger. An end to darkness.
John’s gospel starts with the eternal story of God breaking in, with light, to our world and our lives. John reminds us – with words that need to constantly ring from our hearts and our lips in faith and protest – that though our world is wounded, God has spoken:
“Light shines in darkness, and darkness could not overpower it” (John 1: 5, RNJB)
That word “overpower” is rendered differently in other translations of John’s Prologue. Older versions have “comprehend” or “overwhelm”. The sense of the Greek, however, is that the darkness cannot “grasp” the light. It just doesn’t understand it. In modern idiom, it doesn’t “get it”. The darkness of evil, iniquity and wickedness cannot understand light.
Our politicians, and sometimes even church leaders, when they speak in half-truths, they know they speak in half-lies. Misleading, covering up, refusing transparency and humane accountability, sweeping things under the carpet: these are all the works of darkness. But God lifts the lid and speaks the light into these dark places and the nooks and crannies that cringe from exposure. Because God is the source of all light and life, the darkness will not overpower us. John tells us that in the birth of Jesus, God has entered into creation afresh – respair – to bring light and life to all. As John puts it: “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.” (John 1: 9, RNJB).
As we look across God’s creation, our task is to affirm with God all that is good. Wherever darkness threatens to overpower, whether in the lives of others, or in our own lives, let us remember that God has spoken the very first words in creation: “Let there be light…and God saw it was good.” God’s reign of light, love, grace, justice and mercy cannot be overcome by the darkness.
Hope from beyond, sent to the present, is what the gospel asks us to reckon with. Hope consists of God’s jump-start-leads sent from the future through time and space, wired right into our present pains, panics, pandemics and predicaments. The hope is this: that the love of God will return to govern us all. God’s reign of love is to come. In the meantime we are meant to engage in the preparations for this and undertake the work of God. How can the light of Christ illuminate this present darkness? How can the manifest love of God in Jesus overcome the shadowlands?
Perhaps we could all urge the Archbishops’ Council and General Synod to take notice of God’s motions?
The Very Revd Professor Martyn Percy is a Fellow of Harris Manchester College, Oxford. He writes in a personal capacity.
Every railway tunnel is built with emergency refuges. Squidging into something the size of a sentry box as the train rushes past is not pleasant, but better than the alternatives. In real life, that isn’t always the case. But sometimes it’s a matter of taking an unpleasant path. And then, the future is before us. I’m living with the realities that I do not believe are God’s will. But I do believe he can do something with it. And with me.
An interesting article – although I think the final sentence detracts from the overall message, which up until that point I found illuminating. The strongest of this series in my opinion.
One thing that puzzles me is the note at the end about the author
“The Very Revd Professor Martyn Percy is a Fellow of Harris Manchester College, Oxford. He writes in a personal capacity.”
I was under the impression from the press that Dr Percy had left the Church of England. Surely he doesn’t not wish to use the courtesy title ‘The Very Reverend’ any longer given it is usually used by senior priests in the Church? I’ve seen him styled as ‘Dr Percy’ most recently in the press and online by his friends – is that the title he prefers to use now? I think we should all use the identifier he is most comfortable with.
‘The Very Reverend’ must after all contain a sting for him after everything that has happened.
Titles, qualifications etc were discussed at some length in earlier posts on this site, and with some heat in either direction.
In other matters , of the two remaining candidates for Conservative Party leader, it was noted that both had taken “PPE” at Oxford, and this was being used to deride them.
There are places on my own CV which I prefer not to mention because although some good experience was gained there, I consider them to be a long way from what they could be, despite whatever cachet they may have to others.
My wife reads period dramas avidly and so loves Julian Fellowes’s “Downton Abbey”. I pretended not to for a long time, preferring the cricket, the stock market, or drafting responses to Surviving Church. But, out of the corner of my eye, I was drawn in and became addicted to Maggie Smith’s character: the “Dowager Countess” and her pithy one-liners.
The drama (arguably more accessible to most people) is about a curious institution which exists in the minds of its participants, and in the ornate shell of a country house. It’s a threatened and declining institution.
It’s a fascinating drama because it demonstrates so many things. For example there is snobbery and elitism, but not necessarily arising upstairs in the aristocracy, but often more severely policed in the below-stair hierarchy with butler Carson.
Politics too are evident, but surprisingly there are lefties upstairs as well as in the servants’ quarters.
The institution protects their jobs, livelihoods and futures, but some seek to prosper in more rewarding work outside, including Lady Edith who wants to work full stop.
The Church of England is an organisation-in-the-mind as well as a physical one with buildings and staff. Many of us have had a relationship to it mentally as having a certain value. I was baptised there as an infant. Many marry and have their funerals there because it has a place for them in mind, as something given, part of our society. They do this even without much interest otherwise in churchy matters.
Others go on to invest their lives heavily in it. That’s when things often start to go wrong. There has been for many of us, a stark degradation in the mental image of what this institution actually is really like, as against the original mental image we held.
David Armstrong (2005) explores this in his book “Organization in the mind”. It’s not a particularly accessible read, but helps me try to grapple with a challenging and important subject.
What can be done? Personally I believe the C of E is finished, it just hasn’t really accepted this yet. Those archaic allegiances many of us held are slowly, or drastically in some cases, being demolished, never to be rebuilt.
Church itself, with a small ‘c’ is still alive and kicking, not least in some of the other 30,000 denominations. A feature of humanity is to design a bureaucracy around a humble baby as soon as possible, with status and hierarchy. This isn’t the first and won’t be the last.
As a result of rare neurological condition, light blinds me, and brings on migraine, and so I live my life in the shadows. This of course does not negate the reality, that, even for me, light is needed for the very existence of life. And just as we rely upon light in a bodily sense, so do we in our spiritual lives. Without the light of Christ, we are doomed. How can the light of Christ illuminate the present darkness? We all, and General Synod need immediately to put a halt to the shadowlands of half-truths and deceptions which are brought out by persons who are attempting to hide the reality of unethical and unjust processes and behaviours. Archbishops, Bishops and Synod need to accept that corrupt practices can no longer be tolerated. Excuses and half truths used to extricate those who are manipulating processes can no longer be accepted. Before you give evidence in court, you swear to give the whole truth. Half truths are not acceptable. The Church rightly says that some of its processes are legal proceedings. It should rightly provide the same transparency, accountability and legal helps that our justice system subcribes to instead of hiding behind the closed doors beloved by tyrants. Jesus said “I am the way, the truth and the light.” We must start with the truth, the whole truth or we do not start at all. Our senior clerics and others are aware they are not fooling anybody and that the scandals have, and continued to bring disgrace on themselves . Whilst some of the politicians involved in the recent first debate for political leadership appeared startled that almost the whole debate concerned integrity, the general public, that is the rest of us, know that when integrity flies out of the window, society breaks down. We don’t want corrupt police forces in special measures and prime ministers ousted for their lack of integrity. And we most certainly don’t want senior clerics presiding over unethical processes which drive innocent parties and some abuse survivors to the very edge (and sometimes beyond) whilst they hypocritically pontificate on national and international matters. It is because the light blinds me, that I have become more aware of its necessity for life. And it is because senior clerics and their colleagues are casting a cloak of darkness over their actions, that I have become more aware that Jesus has put truth at the heart of who and what he is. If Archbishops, Bishops, lawyers and others acting for the Church, are not prepared to start with the truth, we need to press for replacements who do. Even politicians who, as a group are not generally regarded as being the most truthful of people, have drawn a line in the sand. Our Archbishops and Bishops are unable to do the same. Do they believe the Gospel they peddle? Are they confidence tricksters? Or are their egos so large they believe that Christian truths are suitable only for those in the pews and that they need not subscribe to them?