Martyrs' Manse,
Kingsport,
March, 1925
John,
Who is Fred Arnold? Naomi's letters are suddenly rather full of him. Phil, with her usual mathematical inclination, has put two and two together to get what is probably seven with a derivative of six and a half, and has all kinds of suppositions on the subject.
In related news, we hear from Una that Carl has acquired a new friend at the botanical gardens and are excessively curious. Is this the botanist you mentioned, or a more recent acquaintance? Forgive us if we join forces with the Glen gossips; It's lovingly done. I'm a little awed at how settled your children are in Singapore. In the beginning – before Phil and Patterson St – I debated foreign mission work. I discussed it often with Priss's missionary in olden days. I never went, and I would like to say it was because of something noble, like not wanting to take Phil so far from her family, or finding ample work in my own backyard. Truthfully, I don't think I had the everyday courage to go adventuring. I wouldn't change my course, but whenever one of those wafer-thin letters arrives on our mat, I marvel at the inward bravery of your children.
Efforts continue to promote the Lent Appeal for the ACS, and people give as they can. This is less than it might be, because Culross sits on a floodplain and was recently rained out. The original architect manifestly planned the village with no consideration for the waterline. Frustratingly, I need Sam to complete the brunt of the repairs, and he wont visit until Easter. It's no holiday for him, and an uncomfortable wait for my parishioners. But I can't spend as many hours levelling floors as I used to. My knees won't cope, and I'm no good to anyone laid up in bed.
I take it the secretariat rejected your proposed Food Ministry? I know from experience Presbyterians resist change. Dangerous stuff. Though, I hear your Lenten Bible study goes well. How you continue to find new things to share with your flock I don't know. I would end up delivering my sermon early! Aren't Gifts something?
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Jo
P.S. Has Gilbert's taste for herring has subsided?
New Manse,
Glen St Mary,
March, 1925
Jo,
Fred Arnold is the son of the Methodist minister and a good sort. His father, Nathan, has the Methodist church here and does rather a lot in advancing our local outreach. Rosemary doesn't think he and your daughter are particularly serious, but she said this while Cornelia Eliot sat on the other side of our chesterfield cradling a piece of Victorian Rose full of Singaporean tea. Don't rule out the possibility she said this for Cornelia, and possibly for the preservation of the Victorian Rose, it being an heirloom. Cornelia doesn't, because she is not an easily deceived woman.
Carl's friend from the botanical gardens has since moved in. He's a monkey named Puck. Una doesn't care for him at all, because he throws peanuts at her and tries to chase her out of the kitchen. Puck's fascinated by kitchens. He also pours tea. He drinks china tea, preferably, with a generous helping of milk, three sugar, and a peanut on the saucer. He drinks this while perched atop Carl's knee and daring Una to get within half a foot of him. Carl is teaching Puck writing, chess and Presbyterianism. (Don't ask. I don't know, either.) Una refuses to teach Puck the piano.
This is, as you will gather, quite a different friend to the one I told you about previously. She is called Li. Actually, I think it is Liang, but Li for short. She and Carl are also great friends, though so far he has taught her neither chess, nor writing, nor Presbyterianism. Una hasn't met her.
This time we were sensible of our company and did not disclose the letter's contents to just anyone. We saved it for Ingleside, and one of Susan's roasts. Even that formidable woman was hard-pressed not to fall to laughing over the antics of Puck. Gilbert was in tears, and Anne quite helpless. Bruce and Naomi demanded pictures by the next post. I have to confess, I'm curious on that score myself; I've never seen a monkey outside of a Natural History textbook.
Love and blessings,
J.M.
Martyrs' Manse,
Kingsport,
April, 1925,
John,
I read your thoughts on Fred with interest. What are his feelings about being collected, do you think? Methodists must be the one ecumenical connection missing from our set, and he sounds a suitable sort. (For us. Bolingbroke would be horrified, to Phil's delight.) I could like him if Naomi does.
Jake and family were visiting when your last letter came, and we all had a good laugh over the Puck's simian antics. Phil and Retta (have you met Jake's wife? I forget.) credit Una with more patience than they would have. Now my grandchildren, and yours too, all want monkeys of their own. Faith says God Tuesday the Dachshund is quite enough, and Judith Carlisle says there are days she is tolerably sure she's entertaining monkeys unaware, thanks all the same.
Another question; In the interest of making Revelation accessible, what do I tell them of the New Heaven? Surely this parish – surely all of my parishes, know more about hardship and suffering than I ever learned.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Jo
Ingleside,
Glen St. Mary,
April, 1925
Jo,
Why do we go to Jerusalem? And how do we get there? We go that we might, as the old prayer says, know Him more clearly, love Him more dearly, and follow him more nearly. We go to Jerusalem to know Christ; His glory, His agony, and His atonement. In so doing, we must reckon with the knowledge of His humanity; That He too knew dark hours and torments, and turned not away from that cup in its bitterness. By so reckoning, we understand that we are not alone, and never can be; That, however, grievous the injustice and the burden, He too has known and born it. We go to Jerusalem in abjection, in awe and seeking grace. He sends us away comforted, enfolded and absolved. We go to Jerusalem six ways from Sunday and for a multiplicity of reasons. It leaves us humbled by a still greater humility. Thank you, you appear to have launched the first of my Lenten sermons. My apologies for preaching it at you.
It's not your sermon. You'll preach how to get to Jerusalem. Too often we forget Christ the Servant, but you never do. It's your great lesson to me always. When better to refresh it than this season of humility?
Consequently, I'm thinking of trying the Mandatum this year. The Glen school (read Naomi) is teaching its origins as part of Church History, so it would be apt. What's your experience? I remember you've held them in past years. (I ask not a little so I can cite it when Miss Cornelia accuses me of defecting.)
Find enclosed a full outline of this year's Lenten Study Group. My apologies for getting it to you so late; Assisted by your daughter and Rosemary we organised a separate group for the women – who otherwise, apparently, don't feel they can participate – and the season ran away from me. It's no help to you this year, but perhaps you could try a condensed version at Advent?
Love and blessings,
John
Martyrs' Manse,
Kingsport
April, 1925
John,
I'm unsurprised about the Mandatum making curriculum. I am very curious what young Mr. Arnold makes of its inclusion.
Fair warning; Never have I been more humbled than at my first Mandatum. I finished washing old Ebenezer Malcolm's feet, and he knelt and turned to me. I'll never forget that. I wanted to object, but then I remembered Peter, and realised I couldn't. Not if I wanted to do the thing properly. A new commandment, and all that. So, I stood there and allowed my feet to be washed with harbour water. It was icy, and it stung, but I knew God. If you manage to get it past the secretariat, tell me how it goes.
Sam brought the children and Ellie down for a visit the other week. They won't be here for Easter (it's Ellie's family's turn to have them), but they still wanted to see us. It was almost like the old days. Sam got stuck in with parish work. He has that modernity of an auto, and I confess I wouldn't object to one myself. It's not that I couldn't afford it, it's that my congregants couldn't. It doesn't sit right with me, showing off a luxury none of them can afford, not even if it makes cross-parochial visits faster. It does save time. You wouldn't believe how easy the run between my Martyrs' Kirk and Culross's Knox was, even weighed down with food parcels! We had time to spare before Sam ferried me into Waterford for the late service.
Sam's visit also meant we could start repairing the flooded-out Culross homes. Not much of a visit for Sam, and I fear I saw less of my granddaughters than I wished, but as Phil got them to herself, Ellie time to herself, and Sam and I a chance to reconnect, no one is complaining much.
Sam was quiet, of course; Has been ever since the war. I've spent long years musing how to learn his heart again, when I used to feel I knew it by rote. These days, Ellie goes where Phil and I wouldn't dare tread. This visit, as we sat in the car waiting for the signal at the level crossing to change, I thought of you and your New Jerusalem, and found it inexpressibly helpful. For the first time since Passchendaele, I haven't needed to understand, only to sit with my child's hurt, and that made such a difference, John. It shouldn't have been a lesson I needed to learn; It's what I always aspire to with the grieving. But it's different, somehow, with one's children. Thank you, John. I cannot say how much.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch,
Jo