Monday, 9 February 2015

The Testament of Mary by Colm Tóibín

Buy it from Hive.co.uk and support local booksellers 

It was a BBC Culture Show interview with Colm which brought me to read this 100 page monologue of Mary. It was in large part the talk of the work's controversial nature that lead me to it – if it was a work that could offend Christians then it seemed it would be a work worth reading.

It is a tightly written work – I read it on the train up to London, and arriving at Waterloo before the end I stopped at the station for a coffee so that I could get to the end (and therefore arrived a little late for a meeting). That you can encounter the whole work in a 2 ½ hour sitting is part of the power and intensity of the work.

You come face to face with Mary, as a very real person. It is a Mary of old age, and brings to mind a banner of Our Lady of Lincoln where she is depicted as an old women, rugged like a fish wife, a women who has lived.

There are I think 3 points where the narrative departs from the familiar Gospel account that made me stop and think, the first two were “interesting”, bring new insights, the third was much more profound.

So, the first, the raising of Lazarus, we are told that Lazarus was sickly throughout life (an explanation of why he lives with his 2 sisters), but also that after his resurrection it seems he is not even restored to the previous state of poor health, and is very frail and in much pain. Jesus acted out of compassion for the sisters in raising their brother, but it would seem the act was misjudged, for it is not “life, and its fullness” that Jesus gives on this occasion but something of a miserable existence. You get the very real sense Lazarus would have been better off left in the tomb.

Second, at Jesus' trail, the role of the Chief Priests in manipulating the crowd to shout for Jesus' crucifixion is made explicit. But this acts to largely absolve the crowd of the deed, and I find this troubling. The song “How deep the Father's Love” has the line “I hear my voice cry out among the scoffers” which I always find deeply moving – that the rejection of Jesus is a personal and, in the moment, convinced call for his death is an important part of the dynamic of the salvation which is to follow. To turn this into little more that the joining of a chant on the football terrace begins to question and undermine the power of the sacrifice which follows.

And finally, and I feel perhaps I should give a spoiler alert here – which feels very odd, but this was a powerful and shocking moment, and so if you are planning to read the book I think it might be best to save this for a fresh encounter in the context of the narrative.

OK – you had the warning...

Given the authenticity of the voice that had been created up to this moment, it felt totally real, and the reality makes it painful. In some ways it is such a little thing, but Colm's Mary leaves the cross before Jesus dies. And I realised how central Mary's place at the foot of the cross is to my understanding, and not simply of Mary.

Here you will have to indulge me as I quote from Steel Magnolias, where after the funeral M'Lynn has a rant of grief for her daughter Shelby, she says:
“No.. I couldn't leave my Shelby. I just sat there and kept pushin' the way I always have where Shelby was concerned.... I was hopin' she'd sit up and argue with me. Finally we realized there was no hope. They turned off the machines. [Pause] Drum left.. couldn't take it. Jackson left. [Slight laugh] I find it amusin'.. men are supposed to be made outta steel or somethin. I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand. There was no noise. No tremble. Just peace. Oh God.. I realize as a woman how lucky I am! I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life.. and I was there when she drifted out of it. It was the most precious moment of my life...”

This watch of a Mother over her dying child is the watch of Mary at the Cross. The denial of that watch had a visceral impact on me. I found it very hard to continue to read after that point. I think I found it an attack on Mary. It is largely a book which champions Mary, but here it denies her her rights to be there when her child died. At church we have been thinking about offence – and there is a response to mockery of God that if He is worth believing in He can take a few knocks, He can look after himself. But for Mary can we say the same, especially after being soaked in this very human, vulnerable, believable image of the women behind the Icon.

And there is no wriggle room on this one – she either remained at the foot of the cross, or she left.

But, in fact, this is one point where Colm is not actually differing from the account of the Gospels. It is only John who places Mary, mother of Jesus, at the foot of the Cross. The others have Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and many women, but they do not identify Mary, mother of Jesus. And even John does not actually, necessarily, leave Mary there till the point of death. After the dialogue between Jesus and Mary, and the Beloved, we are told “From that time on, the disciple took her into his home.” Maybe their departure to his home was more immediate than we imagine. The Pietà is in fact as much an invention as the talking donkeys of our Nativity plays.

This is the danger of being a “Bible Believing Christian” - there are important truths which are unscriptural. For the lack of a proof text you cut off your nose. I can not believe that she was not there.

I should emphasis that the trouble this caused me is to Colm's credit – there is nothing wrong with a narrative that questions your fundamental beliefs – and in questioning I have found new understanding. I feel that I might believe Mary remained at the Cross even more firmly now than I did before, and believe it with a much more rounded sense of what that means, what it says about Mary, and also about Jesus. What it says about the relationship between the divine and the human.

As a footnote my guess is that most overlooked this stuff about Mary – and more likely the greater source of controversy will have been the disciples. They come wanting a story, wanting a witness, there is a sense that they are fabricating a story that didn't really happen. But to be honest I was indifferent to this. One of the disciples who visits would appear to be John, the Beloved, another figure from the foot of the Cross, but because he is just a shadow in the story the fact that he wasn't the person we see in the Gospel was of little impact to me. And lets be honest, there was a process of “crafting” the texts which became the New Testament. You can see that process as one of discernment or one of manipulation, but it is simply foolish to deny it didn't happen.

Sunday, 8 February 2015

The Image of Christ in Modern Art by Richard Harris

Buy it from Hive.co.uk and support local booksellers 


This relatively slim volume (just over 150 pages) gives a solid introduction to the main British artists working during the 20th Century on more or less explicitly Christian themes. This is not, as the title might imply, just a study on the representation of Christ, it deals with a much more broad sweep of work.

The majority of the artists, and indeed many of the works, featured were familiar to me, but it was still rewarding to have someone guide you through their work and set them in context. This is the kind of book that tempts you to find out more – there were usually just one or two pictures per artist reproduced but the narrative mentioned many others, and you want to go and find those.

It also helps to set a frame of mind, which you can apply to other works of art that you encounter. I guess that this fall on the side of an “art history” rather than “devotional” (in contrast to say Stephen Cottrell's book Christ in the Wilderness which also looks at some of the works of Stanley Spencer featured here). However having said that, Richard Harris, as a person of faith, is in tune with the devotional potential of these works and so there is a certain blurring of the boundaries.

Perhaps one of the most important insights is the role of a few key individuals within the Church as patrons to these artists. Unfortunately the general art market sees no value in religious themes, and therefore artists need commissions from the Church in order to be able to give time to exploring such material. There is often a tension when it comes to commissioning work, the Church is too timid about what are acceptable responses or forms of expression. Even if (and that is a reasonable big “if”) it is harder to find “Christian” artists today – surely there will never be a shortage artists who wish to explore the great themes of life, to wrestle with meaning, to seek the essence of humanity and its place within the cosmos. All of these things are valid “Christian” explorations – and the Christian narrative is an appropriate vehicle for their exploration with or without signing up to creedal or doctrinal understanding of the faith.