A couple of weeks ago I dug out my CDs of Martin Jarvis reading the ‘William’ stories of Richmal Crompton. I’ve been listening to them in the car. They provide a nice audio comfort blanket against these dismal, overcrowded suburban roads. Traffic lights always against you, nerves shattered as another White Van cuts you up. So let’s get William back on the sound system and listen to Martin, his mastery of every voice and his obvious love for the stories.
I became a William fan when I was about 10, roughly the same age as William has always been since the first book was published in 1922. I had had enough of Enid Blyton’s posh kids whom I had a suspicion would want nothing to do with me, so when a pal gave me a loan of ‘Still William’ I was ready to be hooked. Mind you, I suppose William was posh too. After all, his family had a maid and a cook but there was enough edginess and rebellion in him for a wee Pollok boy to identify with.
The stories also extended my vocabulary in a way other children’s books did not. Richmal Crompton is on record as saying that she did not originally intend the stories to be read by children, and that is reflected in her use of words. Come in the old, battered family dictionary! With that at my side I feared no word.
One of my favourite stories is ‘William’s Truthful Christmas‘ which is to be found in that first book I read. Martin Jarvis does a brilliant job with this. It begins with William in church. He actually enjoys singing the hymns and psalms although those around him would rather he didn’t.
‘Any stone-deaf person could have told when William was singing the hymns and psalms by the expressions of pain on the faces of those around him. William’s singing was loud and discordant. It completely drowned the organ and the choir. Miss Barney, who stood just in front of him, said that it always gave her a headache for the rest of the week.‘
William, however, had no use for the sermon. ‘He considered it a waste of time’. On this particular Sunday he was getting through the sermon by playing with his pet stag-beetle but he was drawn by the vicar’s frequent use of the word ‘Christmas’. The vicar was calling on his flock to have a truthful Christmas, ‘to cast aside all deceit and hypocrisy and speak the truth one with another’. William is brought under conviction and decides that this Christmas will be dominated by the practice of truth. He and his family are to spend Christmas with an elderly aunt and uncle who live quiet lives and have no idea of the mayhem which is about to descend upon them.
On Christmas morning William receives a book of Church History from Aunt Emma and a box containing compasses, a protractor and a set square from Uncle Frederick. When Aunt Emma asks if he liked the presents he says, ‘No. I’m not int’rested in Church History an I’ve got something like those at school. Not that I’d want ‘em if I hadn’t em.’
This is just the beginning of William’s practice of truth which increasingly offends and infuriates those around him. The climax comes when Lady Atkinson sweeps into the house. A large, over-dressed, domineering woman she has come to bestow on Aunt Emma and Uncle Frederick her Christmas gift: a signed photograph of herself. She says: ‘It’s very good, isn’t it?’ But then she makes the mistake of asking Williams opinion. Committed to truth William responds: ‘It’s not as fat as you are.’ And undeterred by the howls of horror around him he goes on:
‘It isn’t’s fat as what she is an it’s not got as many little lines on its face as what she has an’ it’s different altogether. It looks pretty an’ she doesn’t - ‘
The story ends with William totally disillusioned with the truth. The vicar had said that this could make this Christmas the happiest ever but instead it had made it the worst. ‘Everyone mad at me all the time.’ Thus his bold declaration with regard to truth: ‘I’ve done with it. I’m goin’ back to deceit an’ - an ‘ what’s a word beginning with hyp -?’
William discovered that truth is sometimes unwelcome, disturbing and offensive. And while we like to keep anything dark and painful out of our Christmas celebrations there is a truth at the heart of Christmas that we might find difficult to face. The truth is that Christmas is God’s judgement on humankind. The sin we choose leads us further and further away from God, our commitment to lead better lives gets us nowhere, with all our ingenuity and expertise we still face fundamental issues like war and poverty and injustice. The truth is we need a Saviour. To quote Tom Wright:
‘Jesus exploded into the life of ancient Israel, the life of the whole world, not as a teacher of timeless truths, nor as a great moral example, but as the one through whose life, death and resurrection God's rescue operation was put into effect, and the cosmos turned its great corner at last.'
We cannot turn the ‘great corner’ on our own. We need the One who was ‘Born to raise the sons of earth/Born to give them second birth.’
