Solace in the midst of woe

Montagu Curzon

BEFORE I DIE AGAIN by Chad Varah Constable, £17.50, pp. 370 Chad Varah, the founder of the Samaritans, has written, at the age of 80, a jaunty autobiography, the 'again' proclaim- ing the belief in reincarnation which he discovered at Oxford 'like a revelation of beauty and order and fairness in the universe'.

This is not his only departure from Anglican orthodoxy; he has always steered his own path, in the fine tradition of indi- vidualist clergymen who raise their bishops' blood-pressure and are the glory of the Church of England.

Chad, the eldest of nine, was named after the seventh-century saint who con- verted the Mercians and who founded the Church of Barton-upon-Humber, of which Chad's fierce and outspoken father, an expert on pre-Conquest England, was vicar. His boyhood in the populous rectory is well captured in affectionate terms; Chad sensi- bly took refuge in books. At school his lack of interest in conformity was noted and the cane rained down. Adventurous as well as naughty, he was still condemned as 'a dirty swot' by the hearties befuddled by his success at exams.

He showed an eye for trouble, and great nimbleness in escaping its bleakest conse- quences. At Oxford on a scholarship this was confirmed by the classic undergraduate devotion to the higher forms of idleness, hampered only by lack of money; and a preference for the odd to the ordinary. Thus it had to be Chad who, though no mountaineer, managed to get the chamber- pot over Keble's highest pinnacle, and in choosing his friends he sought out the for- eigners. For Finals he relied on bluff.

Afterwards he had no idea what he want- ed to do, but already it was his humanity that led him, in this case, to help in a Steiner community for handicapped children, from which the fierce Rev Varah, sniffing heresy, snatched him back. A kind- ly bishop steered him towards theology college on the understanding that he didn't have to be ordained afterwards.

But he was, and went on to galvanise a succession of parishes, introducing industri- al harvest festivals with a huge boiler in the aisle, and egging on the youth club to dis-

cuss masturbation (c. 1936). After the war he wrote for Marcus Morris's hugely successful Eagle and Girl magazines.

This brain and wit also had the function of protecting a remarkably soft heart, which had been triggered by his very first task as a clergyman. He had to bury, in unconsecrated ground, in pouring rain, a young girl who had committed suicide in horror at her first period, and he vowed at her graveside to work against the ignorance and isolation that could lead to such a tragedy, 'even if I get called a dirty old man at the age of 24'. That death led eventually to the founding of the Samaritans in 1953.

This came about when Chad was appointed rector of St Stephen Walbrook, the committee being enlightened enough to grasp the brilliance of his idea of an emer- gency telephone service for the suicidal. Providentially, the number he wanted, Mansion House 9000, which he supposed inextricably held by some great City firm, turned out to belong to the Church. From the first he refused to advise the clients, they were simply to be listened to until they could see that what made their situation unendurable was less their problems than the absence of anyone to hear about them. When they telephoned, they were invited in for a talk, and volunteer Samaritans were selected for preparedness to listen, to be friendly, but not to interfere, still less to judge. Bleeding hearts, the sentimental, and the evangelical were rigorously exclud- ed. The major therapeutic tool was the cup of coffee, and the service then offered was Befriending, meetings with a Samaritan for as long as needed.

This approach was the key to the Samaritans' success, since it gave the best amateurs could offer and also recognised the point where professional help was needed. So it gained the respect and co- operation of the professional bodies.

The organisation flourished and spread

as people realised that a live-saving service could be rendered by ordinary, well- disposed people with no axe to grind. And the prospect, sometimes the proximity, of suicide (and all lesser forms of drama) gave a considerable undercurrent to the deliber- ate calm of the procedings. Each volunteer was known by a number and a Christian name and Chad No. 1 maintained the necessary iron discipline. In 1972 a TV series called The Befrienders greatly increased the Samaritans' fame.

Other similar organisations started in other countries, but many were evangelical in tone and Chad clashed head-on with these in the international meetings. To him

befriending is beautifully aimless. It does not seek to change, reform, or improve people.

Thus a Northern Ireland branch could operate successfully with a Protestant minister, a Catholic priest, and a layman running it in harmony. To the continentals this was anathema and there is a familiar ring to Chad's saddened descriptions of conference battles: UK v. the Rest.

There is also perhaps a familiar ring about his divergence from the organisers at home. Founders, like collectors, are undoubtedly a special breed. The strength and single-minded determination needed to materialise an original idea tend to lie uneasily with the more routine qualities required in an established organisation. Founders are often extraordinary, one-off characters, somewhat apart from the usual. Chad prefers blunt statements and bright colours (I remember a great love of dahlias). He is also rather a loner, as a boy in his books, as a student with foreigners, and then with the loneliest of all, the suici- dal. He is patron of the Outsiders' Club. Rather poignantly he mentions 'one of the tiny handful of Samaritans who became social friends'.

True to his vow, Chad has devoted him- self to sex therapy since the Thirties, regardless of the buttoned up climate of those times. To him it is his duty to relieve sexual suffering however much the respectable might prefer a clergyman to pass by on the other side, for instance, in such practical ways as designing a gadget to enable an armless soldier to masturbate, and another for a disabled couple to have intercourse.

Chad Varah has written a tale of deep moral conviction and great courage. He is both a crusader outraged by suffering and a man who enjoys outrage. Undeterred by age, he has decided to devote his eighties to campaigning against the genital mutila- tion of girls in Moslem countries. He ends on a valedictory, but cheerful, note, confi- dent about approaching death. As well he may, when one thinks of the thousands who would speak up for him, the tens of thousands who have been helped because of him, and all those whose untimely arrival in the hereafter he and his organisa- tion have so mercifully restrained.