Thursday, 29 November 2018

Thinking about a song

Two of my mother's favourite perspectives:
"Don't draw attention to yourself."
"Don't rock the boat."

She believed (still does) in slipping through the world, as Ezra Pound put it, "like a field mouse, not shaking the grass", in the Taoist ideology of find your way like water round the immovable stones in life's river bed. 

She rarely engaged in conflict, or responded to provocation, preferring to just raise her eyebrows and go her own way. She dealt with the difficulties of interaction with the human race by not entering it. She has been the archetypal cat that walks alone. She kept her own counsel, went her own way.

Yet for all that, here and there when she saw it as necessary, she stood her ground.

When I was about fifteen I watched an encounter she had with a man who came to fell a dangerous dead branch from an oak tree on our land, overhanging the road. He charged an eye-watering sum and we were chronically poor. My mother said nothing when she received his request for payment, just got out her cheque book. He (a somewhat oily type) said to her, in receipt of her cheque, "If ever you're in trouble again, just get in touch."

And she replied, "If I'm ever in trouble, I'll get out of it somehow without coming to you."

She could hold her own, when she saw fit to do so. I logged the conversation in the Useful Items section of my memory. 

When I was a little girl, about seven, she gave me a little book that I loved, called A Pocketful of Proverbs.



I knew most of the proverbs in the book already — which is itself always a delight to a child — but there was one new to me:
Of all the sayings in the world
The one to see you through
Is never trouble trouble
Until trouble troubles you.

It caught my attention, amused me because of the word play, and gave me a great deal of food for thought. One of the questions quick to my mind is, "Is that true?" I asked it of myself about the proverb. On balance, I thought it was true. Letting sleeping dragons lie is, in general, a wise rule of thumb.

But one should not be deluded that it comes without cost.

Excuse me if (yawn) you are well familiar with this word, but have you much thought about casuistry?

The definitions of it online are almost as complex and abstruse as the concept itself. 

It first caught my attention when I came across it as a young woman, in someone's (I forget whose) reference to the casuistry of the Roman Catholic Church — the overlooking of the actual application of the draconian rules (eg about contraception and celibacy) that people found impossible to keep. The priest and his 'housekeeper', for example. People finding their way like water round the blocks. People who had decided that of all the sayings in the world the one to see them through was never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you.

Casuistry occurs when pragmatism meets ideology.

I have come across it happening right now in the Methodist Church, where our Safeguarding programme has escalated almost to the level of an obsession. In Circuits where Local Preacher ongoing training has simply run into the mud and stopped, Safeguarding training is proliferating like mushrooms on dead wood.

I am all for safeguarding children and vulnerable adults from harm, and I think the best way to do it is to respect and listen to them, to include them in decision-making, and to give them the space and opportunity to be heard and to stand up for themselves. What we do instead is infantilise those who are not in power, imposing on them decisions made behind closed doors by Those Who Know Better, and imposing on them, wholesale, edicts from above.

And this is where the casuistry arises. So dense and unrealistic is the programme we have rolled out that its application is impractical. Let me give you an example.

At our recent training, we were offered the case study of a church that wanted to set up a 'Wednesday Club' serving lunches for old people, including some with dementia. We were given a list of those who would be required to run it, and asked what action would be needed (police checks, interviews, clear rôle descriptions and boundaries, and work partners) for the manager, assistant manager, minibus driver, kitchen volunteers and volunteers to chat with and serve lunch to the people for whom the club would run.

Actually, thinking of the nature and membership of our Circuit's Methodist church congregations, the answer to all of it was short and simple: no Wednesday Club, then — make your own lunch.

But the church is peopled by irenic souls who believe that of all the sayings in the world, the one to see you through, is never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you. They flow round the impracticalities like water round stones — gently acquiescing to  the draconian legislation imposed upon them, but (crucially) only very selectively applying it; thus rendering it, of course, ineffective.

A couple of decades ago I had a run-in with Methodism over this very issue. A then senior official in that denomination, having been made to apologise by a better man than himself for all the insults and lies he had flung at me, subsided rumbling, saying that I was born to rattle the cage of the Methodist Church. 

And as long as the church deals in cages, may it be so.

The big problem with the church's Safeguarding programme, is that the same people who made it necessary are running it. If it is administered with kindness, intelligence and humanity, it will make the world a safer and gentler place. But that's not the outcome of the programme, it's the outcome of kindness, intelligence and humanity. If it's run by bullies or the inept, it merely serves to magnify the scope of their influence. I've seen it ignored when it suited church leaders, and I've seen it applied to crush and exclude people when that in turn suited church leaders. The bottom line is, you cannot legislate for goodness, or institutionalise it. You can only live it.

My mother has, time and again, said to me "Don't draw attention to yourself," and, "Are you rocking the boat again, Penelope?"

Like anyone, I prefer a quiet life. But when it comes to that proverb about never troubling trouble, for me the jury's still out. I will never go looking for trouble, but when it comes to safeguarding any human being including myself, I think I prefer the approach of this song by Elvis Presley, which is also logged in the Useful Items compartment of my memory.





Though I hope in my own case, I am neither miserable nor evil; merely determined to see truth emerge.

12 comments:

greta said...

your mother sounds like a Very Wise Woman. my own experience in the church (married to protestant pastor, practising catholic) is that the church loves to make things much more complicated than need be. as you said, simple goodness and kindness cannot be legislated. instead, they must be grown and nurtured. isn't that the job of the church to begin with? i'll be the first to admit that there is more and more in the catholic church these days that i simply ignore in the spirit of not troubling trouble. the impending decision that i sense looming though, is at what point does ignoring become avoidance? there are doctrines, creeds, rules that i find increasingly irrelevant or even damaging to the soul. they feel abusive and arbitrary.i am sad that the only healthy option may be to leave the church altogether.

Pen Wilcock said...

Yes — what you say right there ("only...option...to leave the church altogether") is, to my mind, becoming an urgent problem. The church is acquiring a growing hinterland of people it has debarred, alienated or simply ignored for too long. The "dones" are by no means indifferent to spirituality, they have just had enough of being told and not heard.

Fiona said...

I've recently been thinking a lot about the topic of teaching about shame within the church, and whether focusing upon the shame inherent in the human condition (assuming that "shame" means "feeling bad about who you are" and guilt means "feeling bad about something you've done") debilitates some people - in particular those who are especially vulnerable to the effects of severe shame - beyond what is helpful or reasonable or healthy or necessary or "right" (although I'm not sure I could quantify any of those things), and encourages them to think that there is no real place for them within the church. That seems to me to be a "safeguarding" issue in a way, and a factor which I think also contributes to the alienation and quiet departure from the church community by the type of people you mention.

Pen Wilcock said...

Yes. And sustained discouragement. Brené Brown (I'm sure you know this) does some really good exploration of the whole topic of the damaging effects of shame.

Fiona said...

Yes indeed - I think Brené Brown's writing (and speaking) is excellent. She says that she's almost never come across such a thing as a shame-free school, and it hadn't occurred to me how much shame permeates our education system until then, but she's so right. Shame is a very effective way of keeping people in line but, as you say, it's also so destructive.

Pen Wilcock said...

Yes, shame is an excellent crowd control tool. One of the (many) ways black South Africans were controlled during apartheid was limiting the provision of toilets in the townships. There was no mains sewerage, these had to be emptied by sludge-gulper, and the lorry came round sufficiently infrequently that by emptying day the toilets would be overflowing. And of course people just peed on the ground and saved the toilets for poo, to make the provision last longer. This was one of many ways of harassing and demeaning people that kept their concerns focused at a low and basic level and made it harder for them to think about higher matters like revolutionary politics. They did it in the end, though. Sooner or later an individual comes along who is sick and tired of being humiliated and made to feel bad.
Shame is (obviously) a huge deal in church circles too. One of the difficulties with which I personally am wrestling at the present time is that, surrounded by kind and loving people who will only say how difficult it is to be a church leader and how we must support them in every way, I feel dreadful saying, "No; not all of them but some of them are doing a really bad job, and the consequences are percolating throughout the church." It makes me feel intensely anxious. My inclination is to just quietly leave, and then I can be remembered as the problem rather than the leadership being blamed — though I don't personally think anybody should be blamed, but I do think we should change what we're doing because it's not working.

Rebecca said...

I rattle cages, too! (In my own quiet way, of course...).

Pen Wilcock said...

Ah — stealth rattling — yes, I know.

Rebecca said...

Yes! You have such a way of expressing EXACTLY what I've been wanting/trying to say.

Pen Wilcock said...

:0D

xx

Julie B. said...

My brain needs exercising and expanding, and reading your words always accomplishes that. xoxo

Pen Wilcock said...

:0)

xxx