THE PEW ON THE PULPIT
SIR,—On Sunday -we attended Westminster Abbey morning service, in accordance with His Majesty's wish that we give thanks for the success of our arms in Italy. After joining in a magnificent act of adoration composed by the Elizabethan. Lancelot Andrewes, we then were witness to what I devoutly hope is the sorriest insult to the Deity ever offered from a pulpit. We were invited to thank God for the nearer hope of an easier life, shorter queues, less-crowded trains ; the emergence of statues from sandbags, the possible fulfilment of personal plans ; for the increase in the average expectancy of life among civilians and for the possibility that Italy should again take a place among the art-loving nations ; and for a " return to the normal." What (we were asked with an exquisite vocal modulation), what had we done to deserve this infinite mercy shown us at God's hand? Well, we haven't done badly it seems. We've had days of prayer, there is a " revived though often misdirected " interest in religion. Anyway, we've beaten the Italians at it. We're all right. We're God's chosen still.
So what? So let us not mention Europe in chains, nor our past misdeeds. Let us not dedicate ourselves to the soul-shaking tasks God in his unimaginable justice seems to be laying upon us. Let us not refer at all to the fortitude of heroes, or the hope of life for young minds enslaved ; not speak of the bond drawn closer by this victory between free peoples. Let us not thank and even for the discipline of endured pain that brings strength to our national fibre. Let us conclude with a formal nod to the danger of complacency, and a reiteration that God must have business for His Englishmen to do. Great help could have been given to the very large number of people, British and foreign, assembled last Sunday. We, the laity, can but regret a lost opportunity. What can be done, and by whom?—Yours faithfully, K. M. BAXTER.
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