by John Lampard.
The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee offers the nation an opportunity to indulge in a burst of nostalgia, from remembering the 1953 Coronation (for older readers!) to ‘it was better then than it is now’ etc. What is the role and place of nostalgia when it comes to re-calling our church history or in theological thinking?
A recent book, Rule Nostalgia: A Backwards History of Britain, by Hannah Rose Woods, examines the use of nostalgia as a means of critical analysis.
She argues that we use nostalgia primarily as a means of fuelling or bolstering modern debates. To illustrate this, she reminds us of the wonderful words of William Rees-Mogg, spoken after June 2016, that Brexit was ‘Magna Carta! It’s Waterloo! It’s Agincourt! It’s Crecy! We won all of these things!’ Only the most ardent Brexiteer might spare a blush.
The problem for me is that history and nostalgia are almost inextricably linked once one tries to use historical knowledge to critique the modern world. My interest is obviously in the matter of church history and the situation faced today by almost all the churches of the western world (it’s not just Methodism!). We can look back to the time when bishops ruled the roost across the land. Or we can look back to the great church-going period of the mid-Victorian era when about half the population were in church on a Sunday. Or the practice of family prayers and Bible reading at the beginning of the day – or even saying grace before meals. Or I can look back on the 1950s crime-free Eden of my youth, with lively Youth Clubs and when the church was packed on Parade Sunday with uniformed organisations. Each of these memories or recollections can be used as a means of criticising what is going on in the church and world today. Is the Christian faith, the church or society in a ‘better’ or ‘worse’ state today?
Nostalgia can be a very selective means of criticism. When the bishops ruled the land, people were punished in unspeakable ways, apart from a lack of any human rights. In the ‘Christian’ mid-Victorian era there were estimated to be 80,000 child prostitutes in London alone. Family prayers could be a means of harsh family control, and seventy years ago two boys attempted to rob me at knife point in a ‘respectable’ part of London. As soon as we draw from the nostalgic past to contrast how things have deteriorated today, we urgently need to find other facts which suggest that such a picture is incomplete.
Thinking on Woods’s book draws me to two further reflections.
How much does nostalgia, particularly for the life of the early church as depicted in the Bible, affect our reading of it today? Apart from the ‘communist’ ideal of having everything in common in the early Jerusalem church (which may have led to near famine and the need for the first example of ‘Christian Aid’ from other churches), the life of the early church depicted by Paul offers little material for a nostalgic view. I suspect that our Methodist Discipline Committee would be overwhelmed by life in the Corinth church. A rosy view of the Primitive church offers little to appeal in a current world of human complexities.
A more complicated question arises over the extent to which our study of and expressions of theology today is overlaid with nostalgia. Our language and symbolic thought structures still hark back to a ‘biblical’ understanding of the universe. I struggle (as did John Robinson in the 1960s) with phrases such as ‘God sent…’, ‘come down from heaven’, or ‘Jesus came…’, on any occasion other than when we quote the Bible, rather than expressing what lies behind the words, in a sense of revelation and discovery. Too much theology is based on a nostalgic world view created by still taking the Bible too literally, in a world which is being revealed by the Hubble telescope and the Large Hadron Collider. Am I alone in getting spiritual excitement and sustenance in the exploration of the amazingly complex and wonderful world around us discovered by scientists looking at either the indescribably massive or infinitesimally small? Our understanding of the nature of time revealed by scientists must surely impact on ‘eternity’ and ‘everlasting life’. I get more visceral spiritual excitement from the discoveries of scientists, almost lost for words by the sheer wonder of what they are revealing, than wading through the dull, endless attempts by worthy theologians to ‘re-create’ an outdated world view. A nostalgia for a simple ‘up’ and ‘down’, which we hark back to by our overreliance on what we might have grown up with, will not enable relevant theological thinking. It is all God’s world, but our nostalgia for the past hinders us from trying to re-think our theology in terms for today.
So, I will wave my flag and remember 1953, but I will not be nostalgic! And I hope theologians will be limbering up for the reign of King Charles III.
9 thoughts on “Nostalgia”
Agree with most of what you say, John. (Not sure bout the Famine bit!) Thanks, – Geoff.C.
Thanks John. Echo your sentiments
It’s easy to be nostalgic about the past when the world we grew up in was safe and secure, and we had food on the table and a warm home. We tend to remember the good bits and let the bad bits fade into history. I suppose in a sense that’s just a way of being thankful; we remember the blessings, not the stressings!
I think the difference between scientists and modern theologians is that scientists are constantly revealing new insight into God’s wonderful creation, while modern theologians are constantly trying to re-invent God to fit in with their new insight. God doesn’t change; our relationship with him does, just as any loving relationship develops over a long period of time.
You’re not alone in being spiritually excited about scientific discoveries, I know this because I am too. When I try to get my head round some of it I kind of spontaneously get to a place of gratitude and wonder.
That is good.
I cannot be nostalgic about the 30`s. Class lines were strict. The only people who read the lesson in church were Sir William C. and my grandfather who, although the son a miner, was Headmaster of the village school, treasurer of the church etc. But he never wore a hat so he did not have to doff it to his superiors nor touch or pull his forelock. Only the upper and middle class sat at the front of the church. And the strict class lines were everywhere not just in church – in shops, at the doctors, the post office upper middle and upper class people were served first. Nor am I nostalgic about the children who had to wear hand me downs from older children and whose Mums had to darn and patch to keep clothes wearable. .
Susan, I cannot be nostalgic about the 1940’s. My experiences were different than yours being in industrialised Manchester, but the poverty, the smog and housing conditions were not good. The different social classes that you remember did not apply, it was just about the rich and the poor – the “haves” and the “have nots”. We never met the nobs, they lived in the countryside. What concerns me more is that our society is heading back to those days with the gap between the “haves” and the “have nots” ever widening – a process that appears to be Government policy. The answer to growing poverty – tax breaks for the rich!
I was working class and proud of it. It’s all about knowing your place 😉