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.'
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