‘The Friend is a very puritanical journal.’ | Image by Thais Melo
‘Commentary’, by David Firth, from December 14, 1979
‘Friends on the whole are anything but puritanical.’
Enthroned amid the mercantile splendour of the toy department, Father Christmas sat beaming. Suddenly his eyes narrowed to slits, and he hissed, ‘I’ll give you just five seconds to get out of here!’ The objects of such startling venom were four children, who had formed up decorously and piped in quick succession, ‘Morning, Father Christmas!’
Before you jump to the indignant conclusion that he was guilty of conduct unbecoming to a Santa and gentleman, I must explain that he was acting under provocation: the not-quite-innocent boys and girls were all hulking thirteen-year-olds, quite obviously intent on taking the mickey. People do not always behave as we expect them to. The other day a Friend found himself at a celebratory dinner of the kind where conversation sparkles as the port goes round. Such occasions will seldom come the way of pious Quakers unless they are also members of a City livery company, an ancient university, or one of the more self indulgent professions; but when they do come, they give a chance to observe how the other half lives. Our Friend found that in all that distinguished company quite the most distinguished-looking was a lady sitting opposite. When the dessert came and she chose a banana, he was curious to see whether she would strip the fruit in straightforward monkey fashion, or address it in a more aristocratic manner. Surprisingly, her method was to take it from sight altogether and fumble with it on her lap; he averted his eyes when he realised that she was secreting it in her handbag.
Being told this reminded me that, two nights before, my wife had dreamed that she too was at a dinner party. Her neighbour at table had been a kindly, ascetic, elderly clergyman who, on hearing of her connection with the Friend, remarked with approval, ‘Oh, I have seen the Friend; I read in it an article which said that we should eat less!’ My wife replied, ‘Ah yes, the Friend is a very puritanical journal.’ And she helped herself to some more custard.
Now I don’t know whether she really feels this way about us. In dreams, the strangest words can rise unbidden to the lips and perhaps it is not proper to record them in a public newspaper. But the thought that the Friend might be seen as a ‘very puritanical journal’ has weighed on me since. If it were, it would not be a true reflection of the Society it serves, as Friends on the whole are anything but puritanical when you meet them in the flesh. But in the print, perhaps.
Perhaps it is in panic reaction against the thought that I have devoted this column (which should of course be thundering out the authentic Quaker view on great issues of the day) to retailing three inconsequential, flippant anecdotes devoid of message, significance or spiritual uplift; and of which I can only say that my stories are true, and new, and I hope they help to brighten your approach to the celebratory days ahead. Well, perhaps this is a message: we jolly well should eat less!
David (1930-2021) was editor of the Friend 1974-1990.
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