The Parable of the Grand House

 

The disciples were enjoying a rest along the Windrush River on their journey from Monmouth to Oxford.  In Witney, one of the disciples had picked up a newspaper and was now reading headlines to the others.  ‘Well, this is rather humourous!’ he exclaimed.

‘What is it?’ asked another disciple.

‘Well, a major focus of this last General Synod of the Church of England has been to bring about reconciliation after all the divisions the revisionists have caused in trying to change the Church of England’s views on sex and marriage.’

‘Yes, we know that.’

‘And...,’ said the disciple, holding up his hand, ‘And so now everyone is supposed to ignore the fundamental differences over sexuality and marriage and get on with other business.  This ignoring the great division is being called "reconciliation."’

‘Get to the funny bit,’ shouted a disciple.

‘All right, all right.  So, at Synod, someone put forward a motion that the Synod acknowledge that there are some in the Church of England—that would be the Evangelicals, mostly—who do not and will not accept the blessings over same-sex unions.  The motion was voted on and lost.’

‘Is that the funny stuff?’ asked the same disciple.

‘Yes.  Don’t you get it?  The whole meeting was trying to promote reconciliation, but they refused to acknowledge that anybody was there who differed in their beliefs. Pretty rich, if you ask me.’

‘Where do you think this is headed?’ a disciple asked the master.

‘I think it is best to think about this with a parable,’ said the master.  ‘The Church of England is like a grand house of some renown in the country.  It was a period house dating back to the 1500s and situated on a beautiful estate—rather like the Duke of Winchester’s palace in Woodstock up the road.’

‘Blenheim Palace?’

‘Like that—remember, this is a parable, not history!’ replied the master.  ‘Well, after living together in a reasonably good marriage for a number of years, the Duke and the Duchess fell out with each other.  The Duke declared that he intended to have affairs with other women, but the Duchess would have none of it.  Neither wanted a divorce, not least because of the public scandal it would bring on the house.  The Duke pointed out that the aristocracy always had extra-marital arrangements and that the Duchess was imposing an unreasonable condition on their marriage.  The Duchess pointed out that marriage was a commitment to one another before God that disallowed such affairs.  So the Duchess asked to live separately in the east wing.  The Duke, however, stated that the house was known as the House of Unity in the land, and such an arrangement was, therefore, intolerable.  How could they invite friends for a dinner or party or ball and not both welcome them to the house?  The Duchess asked to be given sole custody of the children, but the Duke stated that they were also his children.  The Duchess suggested that they send the children to the boarding school that she had attended as a child, but the Duke said that Oxford had far better schools and would not send the children to an inferior place for so important a matter as education.  The Duchess stated that she intended to control her own finances, noting that she was capable of being financially independent and already brought in more income than the Duke.  To this, the Duke replied that the Duchess should not expect the estate to provide her benefits if she did not contribute to its financial affairs—including housing.’

‘My mum and dad had a similar sort of argument when I was a lad,’ said one of the disciples.

‘And what did they do?’ someone asked.

‘Well, they tried to divide the house down the middle.  Dad took a paintbrush and painted a line down the middle.  Trouble was, the kitchen was on one side and the loo on the other!’

The other disciples laughed.

‘So,’ asked the master, ‘What should our Duke and Duchess do?’

‘I reckon that the first problem is trying to live a lie,’ answered one of the disciples.  ‘They are no House of Unity, and they are not going to reconcile with one another.  They are nothing more than a grand old farce.’

‘I reckon that, if they stay together in the same house,’ said another disciple, ‘all people will talk about is that they are the House of Disagreement.  People will think nothing else about them except that that is the house where the Duke and Duchess do not agree.  People will stop attending those dinners and parties and balls because to enter that house would be to enter a place of pain and pretense.’

‘I reckon,’ said another disciple, ‘that the Duchess should submit to her husband.  If he wants to have extra-marital affairs, the Duchess can at least keep herself pure.  If she will not leave the marriage, then what else can she do?  Unless she leaves the marriage, she had better shut her mouth and make the best of things.  Nagging at her husband over his affairs will not solve anything and only make living together unbearable.’

‘So,’ asked another disciple, ‘in your parable, master, what did the Duke and the Duchess do?’

‘Well,’ he replied, ‘They tried everything.  Nothing worked, of course, because the situation was untenable in the first place.  People did stop coming to their home.  Their charity work suffered.  The children grew up and simply left, not interested in returning even for Christmas.  The house suffered from a lack of staff as few were willing to work there.  People who passed by whispered and shook their heads.’

‘That is a very depressing parable,’ said a disciple.  ‘Is that it?’

‘Not quite,’ said the master.  ‘One day, the King came to the Duke’s and Duchess’s palace.  They put on the best entertainment, though some of the singers and actors were a bit lewd, served a splendid meal on the finest china, though the main dish lacked flavour and was cold, and attempted to provide stimulating conversation with a meagre amount of guests whom they had to pay to come.  Looking around, the King asked, “Where are those children I recall seeing on my last visit?”  “Sadly,” the Duchess replied, “they are lost to us.  We have not seen them for several years.”  “And who will inherit the estate?” asked the King.  “We have cut them out of the inheritance,” replied the Duke.  “We have decided to use up our resources on ourselves.”

When the king departed, he took a last look at what was in his memory one of the great estates of England.  He shook his head.  “So sad,” he said.  As he passed the gate, he saw a shadowy figure in the trees.  “Stop,” he said.  “Bring that man here.”  The man was brought before the King.  He had a long beard and wore a robe and sandals.  “Who are you?” asked the king.  “I am the once and future owner of this estate,” he replied.  “I owned this land before this family ever gained possession of it, and when they are gone I shall own it again.  I have waited here for several hundred years, but my return is imminent.”’

‘Is that the end of the parable?’ asked a disciple.

‘Seems more like an allegory,’ commented another disciple.

‘An extended metaphor with several points of comparison and multiple meanings,’ said a third.

‘Who was the shadowy figure?’ At least one disciple kept following the story and was not distracted by questions of its formal elements.

‘A Druid, I’ll wager,’ said another.

‘Or a Muslim,’ suggested another.

‘Does it matter?’ asked the master.  ‘What matters is that a house divided cannot stand.’

'So,' said a disciple, 'the Duchess should just submit?'

'Does it matter?' asked the master.  'No matter how you play this out, the house will not stand.'

'But,' protested a disciple, 'Surely there is a solution.'

'Not for this house,' said the master.  'There are, however, other grand houses where love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are known and celebrated.'