It is a source of great fascination to me that almost every value that was commonly upheld in my youth has been overturned – and many values once deplored are now upheld. (David Frost was considered an absolute shocker for mentioning the word “contraception” in a television broadcast in the 1960s, as a new biography reveals; now children aged seven are to be taught such words.)
Attitudes to fatal illness have been revolutionised, in another example. When I was a young reporter, it was forbidden to use the word “cancer” in our newspapers. The powerful press baron Lord Beaverbrook decreed that it was “unlucky” to print the word “cancer”. The acceptable euphemism was “a long illness”. And sometimes, in this reversal of values, society swings from one extreme of the pendulum to the other. Not only is cancer quite openly spoken about now: it can also be considered quite weird to conceal it, or to regard a diagnosis as something private.
Jackie Collins, the popular novelist, who died last weekend from breast cancer, has been almost upbraided, post-mortem, for not “going public” about the illness, which she had had for six years. Imagine that – she kept her illness “secret”! Bupa has conducted a survey about those oddities who regard ill-health as something personal, rather than a matter for broadcast discourse. A spokesman for the age campaign Saga said it was, regrettably, a generational problem. People who don’t talk about their cancer may miss out on available support.
A generational problem, indeed: in previous generations, people who bore illnesses stoically were often considered courageous and gallant. The novelist’s sister, the film star Joan Collins, who found out about Jackie’s cancer only two weeks previously, still calls it brave. In the overturning of values, there can be a middle way: it isn’t unlucky to print the word “cancer”, but neither is it obligatory for everyone to feel they must talk publicly about their illnesses.
Jackie Collins’s novels, by the way, were not always what one might call “edifying”, but several of them were surprisingly savage about how heartless and selfish the rich can be.
I do hope that all who speak in church – that includes priests, readers and even bishops – will harken unto the words of Dame Judi Dench, that most distinguished thespian. “Speak up!” says Dame Judi. “The back row can’t hear you!” That, anyway, is a resumé of her message on Desert Island Discs, explaining that too many young actors now are not taught to “project” their voices so that they can be heard at the back of the auditorium. Drama schools tend to teach “naturalistic” diction, which often means mumbling and eliding words, running them together, as in the phrase “nawrImean?” (ie, “know what I mean?”).
A similar situation often obtains in church. I sometimes sit in a pew and not a word can I discern from the reader in the pulpit. They should have Dame Judi by their side, commanding them to “Speak up! The back row can’t hear you!” Microphones can, and are, used in church (as in theatres – though Dame Judi considers these a poor substitute for clear speech), but unless meticulously adjusted by a sound engineer for every “performance”, mics can distort the voice too, booming in and out in rising and falling decibels.
Many churchgoers are older (and always have been), and hearing problems are age-related. So lucid diction and voice projection are important. Listen to Dame Judi. In every sense of the word.
The awesome Skellig Michael, just off the coast of Co Kerry, has again been chosen as the location for the next episode of Star Wars. There have been protests in Ireland against Disney’s use of the very craggy, rocky island, claiming it could disturb birds and wild-life there.
But the remarkable aspect of “the Great Skellig” is not just the wild birds; it is also the remains of the extraordinary monastic settlements there by Irish monks from the 6th century until the 12th. This is the location where “the Irish saved civilisation” during the Dark Ages, and the monks’ cells, where they kept the Gospel alive, are still in place. As remarkable as any movie, surely.
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