George Orwell and Us

Its now Friday and I am trying to think what I have been doing... the answer is probably Not A Lot.  Made another fruit cake for the AGM.  And Jean and I were out on the preaching work on Tuesday. We had a very good morning out - nearly two hours, amazing for us. It was sad too though, as one of Jean's regular calls is in such distress. She desperately needs proper medical attendance for her husband at home, but is not being given it (for "health and safety" reasons). Suddenly, in retirement, their lives have become full of pain, and almost impossibly difficult.
.
Yesterday I was out with one of the young pioneers - young compared to me that is (though who isn't these days?) - yet she too was talking about the difficulties of ageing!

And for some reason it made me think of A Clergyman's Daughter by George Orwell.  He writes very movingly about the loss of faith of his central character.

And given only faith, how can anything else matter?  How can anything dismay you if only there is some purpose in the world which you can serve, and which, while serving it, you can understand?  Your whole life is illuminated by that sense of purpose.  There is no weariness in your heart, no doubts, no feeling of futility, no Baudelairean ennui waiting for unguarded hours.  Every act is significant, every moment sanctified, woven by faith as into a pattern, a fabric of never-ending joy.

She began to meditate on the nature of life. You emerged from the womb, you lived sixty or seventy years, and then you died and rotted.  And in every detail of your life, if no ultimate purpose redeemed it, there was a quality of greyness, of desolation, that could never be described,but which you would feel like a physical pang at your heart.  Life, if the grave really ends it, is monstrous and dreadful.  No use trying to argue it away. Think of life as it really is, think of the details of life; and then think that there is no meaning in it, no purpose, no goal except the grave. Surely only fools or self-deceivers, or those whose lives are exceptionally fortunate can fact that thought without flinching?



So I think we both wondered just how those who do not know the truth cope with the ageing process.  Its not easy, even when you do know there is a meaning, and a purpose, and a rescue on the way.

Re faith, George Orwell says this:  "It is a mysterious thing, the loss of faith - as mysterious as faith itself. Like faith, it is ultimately not rooted in logic, it is a change in the climate of the mind."

And there is the problem.  Because for faith to be real living and enduring, it must be rooted in logic, in reason.  Jehovah asks us to love him with our whole mind, as well as our whole heart and soul.

We need that connection to our Creator to give meaning and hope to our lives. It won't be completely restored till the end of the Thousand Years, but just to be heading back there makes all the difference.   At the end of the Thousand Years, which will be wonderful in themselves, our real lives will begin. There will be so much to know, so much to do. So much happiness.  And everything will be full of meaning.  Nothing will be futile.

This morning it was shopping - the big Marks and Sparks - with Captain B.   It was a lovely Autumn day - low sunlight, shining Autumn colours.   A day to tell those who will look and listen of its Grand Creator, Jehovah of armies.