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Posts Tagged ‘Simple Living’

The release of the Epstein files has forced many of us to consider—what do we do in the face of evil? When do we make it our business, and when do we look away? When do we gather every explicit detail, and when do we leave that job for someone else?  When do we share what we know, and when do we stay quiet?

My mind couldn’t help but go to the villainous Mr. Wickham of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Although the trail of disaster that he left behind isn’t a direct comparison to what is going on in the world today, there are some similarities. It was, however, the response of those who discovered his true character that had me contemplating.

If you know the story, you’ll remember that Mr. Wickham, a ward of Mr. Darcy’s father, squanders the inheritance that was left to him. When Mr. Darcy refuses to give him more money, Wickham attempts to steal some of the Darcy fortune and get revenge by eloping with Mr. Darcy’s 15-year-old sister, Georgiana. In this instance, his plans were foiled.

We first learn of these events, and of Wickham’s true character, in a letter that Mr. Darcy writes to Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy tells her about Wickam’s misdeeds in order to defend his own character after Elizabeth turns down his marriage proposal—partly because she believed Wickam’s lies, which painted Mr. Darcy as the villain. I guess the moral here is to get our facts straight before we jump to conclusions about a person’s character. There are a lot of accusations going around the Internet today. We need to make sure we know the truth before we share anything.

When she returns home, Elizabeth shares the shocking story with her trusted sister, Jane. When we’re unsure if we should speak out, it’s wise to choose one trusted person and ask their help to decide. We should note, however, that while the girls discuss Wickam’s squandering of the money and attempted elopement with Georgiana, they do not linger on the sordid details or try to find out more. They knew it happened, and that is enough. Unless there is a specific reason that we need to find out more, I think that should be our response, too.

“I want you to be wise about what is good and innocent about what is evil.” – Romans 16:19 ESV

The girls also discuss whether or not they should tell their family and friends about Wickham’s past. They are concerned about gossiping, harming innocent parties, and betraying a confidence.  Jane says, “Surely there can be no occasion for exposing [Mr. Wickham] so dreadfully.”

Elizabeth seems less concerned for Wickham’s feelings, but says, “every particular relative to his sister, was mean to be kept as much as possible to myself.” Along with not wishing to betray Mr. Darcy’s confidence, she doesn’t wish to drag Georgiana’s name through the mud along with Mr. Wickham’s. She also believes that as Mr. Wickham is so popular, no one would believe anything bad that she says about him. Unfortunately, the girls’ decision not to tell anyone about Wickham’s true character nearly cost their own youngest sister—and themselves—a happy future. 

Soon after, Wickham successfully disappears in the night with Lydia, Elizabeth and Jane’s 15-year-old sister. What was so wrong with eloping? Technically, Wickham did not break the law. In England at that time, the age for consent to marry was a mere 12 years old. However, we should consider God’s law as well as man’s. Such a match was looked down upon when it lacked parental blessing. Not only that, but as we know, it was not even marriage that Wickham had in mind. Though we later learn that Lydia believed they were actually going to elope, they were discovered living together in London—unmarried. Thanks to the help of Mr. Darcy and the Bennet’s uncle, Lydia was “saved” from the life of an outcast when Mr. Wickham was all but forced to marry her (though how good this was for her, I am not so sure). If they had not married, then not only Lydia’s, but the reputation of all the Bennet girls would have been ruined. They would have been basically unmarriageable—especially to anyone of good standing in the community. So apart from the immorality of the situation, Wickham’s actions showed dishonor toward Lydia’s entire family.

And it’s not only Wickham’s attempts to run away with these young girls that speak against him. “All Meryton seemed striving to black the man . . . He was declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honored with the title of seduction, had been extended to every tradesman’s family.” It seems many in the community had formed a bad opinion about Wickam, but none of it came out until Lydia’s disappearance.

I found myself thinking how much could have been prevented if someone—Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth and Jane, or even one of the tradesmen from Meryton—had spoken up and shared what they knew of Wickham’s character sooner. Perhaps Lydia would have begun to think badly of Wickham. Perhaps Elizabeth would not have turned down Mr. Darcy with such vehemence. Perhaps further tradesmen would have not lost so much money. Perhaps other young ladies in the village wouldn’t have been toyed with as they were.

But exactly what details about Wickham should have been shared, and to whom? In the Bennet’s case, no one (except perhaps Kitty) knew of Lydia’s preference for Wickham. In real life, as well as in fiction, it can be hard to decide when to share information. We do see that both Elizabeth and Darcy realize that their silence directly permitted Mr. Wickham to continue harming more people. Elizabeth laments, “When I consider that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was.” Mr. Darcy says, “I was wrong. I ought to have my situation known at the time.”

It’s true, when we see someone do something that is dishonest, unjust, harmful, or dangerous, we do need to consider whether or not it is our responsibility to share the information and to whom we should share it. Too often sin is covered up, allowing the person to continue in their harmful ways. Then there are times when we simply don’t need to say anything, and to do so would be mere gossip.

What we need to remember foremost is that God is a God of truth and justice, and that it is our responsibility to follow God’s example in this way. Christians should lead the way in promoting truth and justice!

“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” – Ephesians 5:11 ESV

God also calls us to defend the weak and the needy.

“Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” –Isaiah 1:17 ESV

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” – Proverbs 31:8-9 ESV

If you find yourself in the situation of knowing about wrongdoing and aren’t sure what action to take, DO follow Elizabeth’s example by consulting a wise and trusted friend without discussing or prying for unnecessary, sordid details that will only degrade your own mind. And DO ask yourself the following questions about the information you have about a person–

  • Is it a crime?
  • Could someone be harmed if I stay silent?
  • Is this person in position of authority, where trust is essential?
  • Am I telling the right people (police, pastor, parent, etc.)?
  • Do I need to confront the person directly? (Galatians 6:1)
  • Do I have my facts right? (Exodus 23:1)
  • Am I sharing the information only with people that need to know?
  • Am I the right person to share this information? Is it my news to tell?
  • Is my motivation to help someone or to attack someone’s character?
  • How can I share this information safely?

If we have the ability to stop evil and prevent harm, then it is our responsibility to do so, in the right way and to the right person. In the case of Mr. Wickham, he got off far better than he deserved. Thankfully, our “dearest, loveliest Elizabeth” and “dear Jane” got their happy ending, despite everything. I hope in the case of the horrendous goings on in our news today, that evil is exposed, justice is served, and that the hurting find true healing.

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Everywhere, there were walls. Day by day, they’d grown up around us till every house and shop and school and road had its own borders, its own barriers. Keeping things out, keeping them in. Walls, running all over this frozen land. Walls made of snow. Not that the barriers were intentional, when we all went out with our shovels, blowers, and plows. But the walls came anyway, as we made a path from door to car, from car to sidewalk, from sidewalk to road. But at our house, we also had a path. A path between our neighbours’ house and our own.

Not that we’d used it often, that imaginary gateway, that break in the wall. No, not in such a winter when the snowfall set records and people had to shovel their roofs so they wouldn’t collapse under the weight, and icicles hung like thick stalactites from gutters, and the painful wind and cold brought tears to your eyes and chapped hands and cheeks and lips. No, not in such a winter.

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But then there came a day, one soft and snowy Sunday, when we did. Church had been canceled after an ice storm left thousands without power. So we were home, the day before us a little lonely and uncertain and unfilled. But then there came a knock.

I shuffled to the mud room in my slippers, found the tall frame of our neighbour filling the glass door. Expecting him to ask John’s help with the snow or maybe something to do with frozen pipes, I reached for the handle, hoping all was well.

“We’re not going anywhere today, and neither are you,” he said. “We’ve got a ham in the oven and we’re hoping you’ll come over and help us eat it.”

Well, such an invitation! Such a welcome invitation on such a silent, snowy day.

And so we put on our boots, didn’t bother with coats, and filled the silence with our chatter as we walked that path, that break in the wall of snow, and into our neighbours’ large kitchen.

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We stayed for hours. And I couldn’t tell you what it meant to sit round their table, surrounded by photos of their grandchildren and a collection of Eiffel Towers. But it was more than the ham and potatoes and veg that we ate while we talked and laughed. More than the tea and cookies and jello that came next. More than the stories from days past, told with such animation that we laughed over till our sides hurt. More than our neighbours themselves, who had begun as kind strangers and turned into friends.

It was the sum of it all that filled us that day, warmed us from the inside out, made us feel that winter was the most wonderful of seasons because it had brought us together–could bring us close to other family and friends–before spring came and the world opened up and let us sprawl out, warm in the sun but far from each other.

March is nearly upon us, but the temperatures are still frigid, and until the warmth comes to melt the mountains of snow and banish the walls, we will have winter. And for as long as it lasts, for all those long Saturday afternoons and black winter nights, I’ll be searching for ways to warm our home, to warm the hearts of our friends. With big pots of chili, and spontaneous tea parties with plates of shortbread taken from the rations John’s parents bring.

And that is the best way to not just survive winter, but love it.

It is said that good fences make good neighbours, and I agree. Good fences, good walls, they make good neighbours–but only when there is a gate.

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And there is quite a different sort of conversation around a fire than there is in the shadow of a beech tree…. [F]our dry logs have in them all the circumstance necessary to a conversation of four or five hours, with chestnuts on the plate and a jug of wine between the legs. Yes, let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.

~Pietro Aretino, translated from Italian

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Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again fairer and stronger. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of the earth.

~Hugh Macmillan, “Rejuvenescence,” The Ministry of Nature, 1871

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Avonlea xo

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