The Henson Journals

[231]

1st Sunday in Lent, March 1st, 1925.

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Gerald Rainbow writes to me of the little abstinences which he and his sister have accepted for their Lenten obligation. Jimmie has given up smoking, and I doubt not that similar essays in the discipline of appetite are general among the devouter members of the Church. Probably they prevail most among those whose normal temperance of habit requires least such arbitrary methods of control. What ought one to say of such discipline? How far ought it to have place in a well–ordered Christian life? The New Testament seems to speak with two voices. On the one hand, liberty of use: on the other hand, ascetic renunciation of such liberty in the interest of a higher liberty still – which voice bears the message best worth our heeding? About the grand objective of ascetic discipline – self–control, there can be no question. It is integral to morality, & to the Christian Religion which is before all things moral. But in these more civilized times, when hygiene does not depend on ecclesiastical rules, and the frown of society rests on the grosser forms of self–indulgence, it may, perhaps, be doubted whether the old method of abstinence has not lost most of its value. Not the indulgence of the flesh is the besetting danger of the religious public, but the more subtle because less obvious & disreputable indulgence of the baser sentiments – conceit, duplicity, bigotry, pride.

[232]

I celebrated the Holy Communion in the Chapel at 8 a.m. After breakfast I prepared notes for this evening's sermon, & wrote to William and George.

The 'Observer' reports the death of the German President, Ebert, and the funeral of the Swedish Premier, Branting. The last was a Socialist, and an ardent supporter of the League of Nations. He and Lord Robert Cecil, I mean, Lord Chelwood, are said to be the most regarded members of that Assembly. It may be doubted whether the deaths of these two men will not make the tranquillising of Europe more difficult.

I motored to Sunderland, and preached at Evensong in All Saints', Monkwearmouth. There was large & attentive congregation, a rather noisy choir, and a "hearty" service. Saxton, a little man inclining to a premature baldness, appears to like his work, and to be liked by the people. He said that, thanks to unemployment, the steam–hammer, which was the affliction of Boddy, his predecessor, had been silent. After the service I returned to Auckland. The rain fell steadily most of the evening, but had ceased before we left Sunderland. The damaged bridge near Durham is visibly becoming worse. It will be awkward if it literally breaks down.

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