One of the more miserable features of my secondary schooling (apart from sport, the cadet force, Saturday morning attendance and the dreary lessons) was morning assembly. This followed the practice at that time of a broadly Christian service comprising the Lords Prayer, various other prayers, and a couple of hymns. It was all rounded off by an address by the headmaster about various school matters. These occasionally included warning and admonishments about behaviour in the showers after sports day. Since I left for home as soon as possible after compulsory sport and avoided the showers, I had no idea what he was warning us against.
I also had no idea what the various hymns were supposed to mean. There were a few that had good tunes that could be sung with enthusiasm (Jerusalem, He who would Valiant be, Oh God our help in Ages Past), but most were dreary affairs. Even worse, their words simply made no sense. One I particularly puzzled over was Teach me my God and King. I now learn from Wikipedia that it was based on a 17th Century poem called The Elixir, written by George Herbert. The most obscure verse was:
‘A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye;
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heav'n espy.’
But this verse was hardly any better:
‘A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine:
Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine.’
Even the hymns with good tunes were obscure: Jerusalem seemed to aspire for a better society, which struck me as a good idea. He who Would Valiant Be suggested that we should aim to be pilgrims. What that could involve was unclear, although I understood this better a few years later when I read John Bunyan’s book Pilgrim’s Progress. My incomprehension extended to Christian theology. I never understood the idea of the Holy Trinity and still do not.
This might of course indicate a failure on my part to comprehend abstract thought. Other people do not seem so handicapped. For several centuries, different factions of Christians argued over the precise nature of the Holy Trinity, as well as transubstantiation and justification by faith. These arguments have at times involved warfare, persecution, torture and execution. This willingness to consider slaughter to defend an abstract idea is not of course exclusive to Christianity or religion in general. In the 20th Century, millions have been led to their death in the name of such secular abstractions as ‘the nation’, ‘communism’, ‘democracy’ or ‘fascism’. The hymns and prayers of my schooldays now seem only a feeble protection against such evil.
I also had no idea what the various hymns were supposed to mean. There were a few that had good tunes that could be sung with enthusiasm (Jerusalem, He who would Valiant be, Oh God our help in Ages Past), but most were dreary affairs. Even worse, their words simply made no sense. One I particularly puzzled over was Teach me my God and King. I now learn from Wikipedia that it was based on a 17th Century poem called The Elixir, written by George Herbert. The most obscure verse was:
‘A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye;
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heav'n espy.’
But this verse was hardly any better:
‘A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine:
Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine.’
Even the hymns with good tunes were obscure: Jerusalem seemed to aspire for a better society, which struck me as a good idea. He who Would Valiant Be suggested that we should aim to be pilgrims. What that could involve was unclear, although I understood this better a few years later when I read John Bunyan’s book Pilgrim’s Progress. My incomprehension extended to Christian theology. I never understood the idea of the Holy Trinity and still do not.
This might of course indicate a failure on my part to comprehend abstract thought. Other people do not seem so handicapped. For several centuries, different factions of Christians argued over the precise nature of the Holy Trinity, as well as transubstantiation and justification by faith. These arguments have at times involved warfare, persecution, torture and execution. This willingness to consider slaughter to defend an abstract idea is not of course exclusive to Christianity or religion in general. In the 20th Century, millions have been led to their death in the name of such secular abstractions as ‘the nation’, ‘communism’, ‘democracy’ or ‘fascism’. The hymns and prayers of my schooldays now seem only a feeble protection against such evil.
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