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| Philip Larkin http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1074/1417827433_85ef38935a.jpg |
The theme of Philip Larkin’s poem
“Church Going” is the erosion of religious abutments. Larkin is largely
considered to be an atheist; however, he did live in a society that was
predominantly Christian, so this poem is perhaps his way of trying to understand
the attraction of religion. The narrator, who appears to be an atheist also,
goes to a church, wanders around, and leaves unsatisfied. He doesn’t understand
the allure of churches or religion, and wonders to himself when they will go
out of fashion. He then goes on to imagine what they will be turned into once
they do fall out of use. In the end, the narrator comes to the realization that
religion and churches will never go out of style, because mankind has an innate
need to believe in something greater than themselves.
This poem was written in 1954, and
published in 1955. The rhythm of the poem is iambic tetrameter, and it has a
strict rhyme of ababcadcd. The language of the poem is conversational, and the
narrator poses many interrogatives (asks questions). Larkin uses a lot of
religious imagery and words, some are used as they are intended, but others are
used in a blasphemous way. Blasphemy is the act of expressing lack of reverence
for God, but if one doesn’t believe in God can what they say really be
considered blasphemy? That is just something to consider while reading the
poem. The title can be interpreted in a few different ways: the act of going to
church, the customs that keep the church alive, visiting the church as one
would a theatre, and the disappearance of the church (Philip Larkin and
Christianity).
Once
I am sure there’s nothing going on
I
step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another
church: matting, seats, and stone,
And
little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For
Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff
Up
at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And
a tense, musty unignorable silence,
Brewed
God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My
cycle-clips in awkward reverence, (lines 1-9)
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| Monumental brass of Simon de Felbrigge and wife Margaret, St Margaret's Church, Felbrigg, Norfolk. |
The narrator of this stanza is both
clumsy (not tactful or subtle) and ignorant. In this stanza, the narrator talks
about the present state of the church. Given that the narrator is an atheist,
he makes sure that no one is around before he enters the church; he wants to be
able to explore the mysticism of the church by himself. He lets the “door thud
shut,” which is a bit disrespectful. The church is considered to be a holy
place and holy places are to be highly cherished and treated with respect by
all who enter them. Perhaps, letting the “door thud shut” was his way of seeing
if the church was truly empty, because if it wasn’t empty then someone would
appear when they heard the noise. The narrator sounds bored when he utters:
“another church;” he seems to be uninterested in the church, but if that’s that
case then why did he stop at the church to begin with? The narrator begins to
describe the church from his clumsy and ignorant perspective. “Little books”
refer to bibles or hymn books. In this context, sprawling is referring to the
flowers that have been picked for Sunday service and are spread out in all different
directions. The flowers are now brown, which we can infer to mean that Sunday
was at least a few days ago, and that no one has come by since then to throw
them out. “Brass” could be referring to the monumental brass that is commonly
found in English churches. Monumental brass “is a species of engraved
sepulchral memorial which in the early part of the thirteenth century began to
partially take the place of three-dimensional monuments and effigies carved in
stone or wood. Made of hard latten or sheet brass, let into the pavement, and
thus forming no obstruction in the space required for the services of the
church, they speedily came into general use, and continued to be a favorite
style of sepulchral memorial for three centuries” (Wikipedia). He continues by
saying “and stuff up at the holy end,” which shows how truly unimpressed and
ignorant he really is about the church. “The holy end” refers to the pulpit and
the surrounding area. The organ is small and neat, which we can then interpret
to mean that the church is small or that the church is poor; neat probably
refers to it not being dusty, so there must be someone who comes there and
looks after the church. The air is described as being tense (anxious), musty
(moldy; stale; tasting or smelling of damp or decay), and silence so great that
it cannot be ignored; I wonder if he is referring to the church itself,
religion, or both. That “tense, musty” air brewed (to prepare by steeping,
boiling, or fermenting) for “God knows how long.” In a Christian’s opinion, the
narrator uses “God” in a disrespectful and blasphemous way. In respect for the
church, the narrator removes his cycle-clips (devices worn below
the knee to keep trouser legs from getting caught in a bicycle chain), in
awkward reverence (a gesture of respect) since he has not hat. It seems like the narrator is a bit
wishy-washy about his feeling towards the church; one minute he is uninterested
and rude, and the next he is showing respect. He is having a Hamlet moment, to
believe or not to believe that is the question.
Move
forward, run my hand around the front.
From
where I stand, the roof looks almost new—
Cleaned,
or restored? Someone would know: I don’t.
Mounting
the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring
large-scale verses, and pronounce
“Here
endeth” much more loudly than I’d meant.
The
echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I
sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect
the place was not worth stopping for. (10-18)
The narrator commands himself to “move
forward;” he touches something, but still appears to feel nothing. He is still
describing the church in general physical terms rather than the metaphysical
ones that church is founded upon. He notices that the roof is semi-new; has it
been restored or just cleaned? If it was just cleaned then it means that there
is probably a caretaker hired to look after the church, but if it was restored
that means that people actually care about this place and it isn’t as abandoned
as the narrator perceives. The clumsy narrator doesn’t care enough to know whether
it was cleaned or restored, because it is of no consequence to him; he doesn’t
believe in God or church. He steps up to the lectern (a stand to support a book
for a standing reader) as if he is the priest about to give a sermon. He
peruses (to read over attentively or leisurely) the “hectoring [to intimate or
dominate in a blustering way] large-scale verse” (biblical verses printed in
large type for reading aloud). He ends his sermon with “here endeth,” which is
the traditional way to wrap-up a Bible reading in church. “Echoes” are
personified, echoes cannot snigger (a sly or disrespectful laugh, especially one
partly stifled). The echoes snigger at his mistake of saying “here endeth” too
loudly and at the irony of what he says. In the narrator’s opinion, religion is
on a decline; so when he says “here endeth” he is not only talking about his
sermon ending, he is also talking about religion ending; he is also saying that
he will be the last person to recite
those words in that church. He goes to the rear of the church and signs the
guestbook;thus, taking part in religion. He “donates an Irish sixpence,” which has
no value in England. Donating valueless coinage to a church can be interpreted in two ways: first, he donates to show his disrespect for religion; or second, that donating to the church has no
value. An arguemet could be made for both positions. He shows disrespect for the church when he mounts the pulpit and proceeds to mock church ceremony. On the other hand, why donate to
the church if you don’t believe in God? Even if what he donates has no value,
the mere fact that he donated something could mean that he has, at least, a small
amount of fear of God. He leaves the church and reflects that stopping was a
waste of time.
Yet
stop I did: in fact I often do,
And
always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering
what to look for; wondering, too,
When
churches fall completely out of use
What
we shall turn them into, if we shall keep
A
few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their
parchment, plate and pyx in locked cases,
And
let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall
we avoid them as unlucky places? (19-27)
In stanza three, the narrator starts to
imagine what the churches will be turned into once their original purpose is
gone. He stops at that church often, trying to figure out what the allure of
that place is. Religion confuses him, and he wonders what he is missing. He
envisions the churches becoming a sort of museum frequently on exhibit for
those who have never been to church or those who want to relive some childhood
memory. The museums would display the church artifacts: parchments, plate, and pyx, in locked glass
cases, so that they can’t be stolen; treating the church’s belongings in this
way gives them value, which in the narrator’s opinion is something that the
church lacks. A parchment is the skin of an animal prepared for writing on. The
plate is probably referring to one of two things: first, a collections plate
where people donate money or other valuable things to the church, or second, it
holds the bread and wine that are brought to the altar during Sunday service. The
rest of the church should be used by the “rain and sheep,” because other than
the artifacts the church is pretty useless. Or, instead of turning them into
museums, should be regard them as unlucky places and avoid them altogether?
Overall, the narrator is saying that churches are useless, but not forgotten.
Or,
after dark, will dubious women come
To
make their children touch a particular stone;
Pick
simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised
night see walking a dead one?
Power
of some sort or other will go on
In
games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But
superstition, like belief, must die,
And
what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass,
weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky, (28-36)
Stanza four imagines the churches
becoming places of superstition. Dubious (uncertain, feeling doubt, or
undecided) women will come after dark to perform various superstitious rituals
like “touching a particular stone,” picking “simples [medicinal herbs] for a
cancer,” or “walking a dead one.” The power of that holy ground will remain in
one form or another. Believing in superstition will end just like belief in God
ended. The only things that will be left are the “grass, weedy pavement,
brambles [rough prickly shrubs or vines], buttress” (a projecting structure to
supports a wall), and the “sky.” The church will be overgrown with nature; what
was once built from the earth will return to the earth, leaving only a few
superficial remnants.
A
shape less recognisable each week,
A
purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will
be the last, the very last, to seek
This
place for what it was; one of the crew
That
tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?
Some
ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or
Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of
gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or
will he be my representative, (37-45)
Stanza five is a continuation of the
stanza four’s thought. The narrator of this stanza is isolated and meditative,
and appears to be less deceived by religion. The church becomes more and more
unrecognizable each week as the trees and plants overtake the structure. The
buildings original purpose has become more and more obscure as well. He ponders
who will be the very last person to seek out the church for its original purpose.
Will it be one of the maintenance men, who look after the church? “Rood-lofts”
are galleries, in churches, on top of carves screens separating the naves, or
main halls, from the choirs, or areas where services are performed. Rood also
means cross or crucifix. Or, will it be some “ruin-bibber,” who is “randy for
antique”? Ruin-bibber stems from the biblical term wine-bibber, which is a
person who regularly drinks alcoholic beverages. Using the definition of
wine-bibber we can infer that a ruin-bibber is someone who regularly visits old
ruins or churches; the ruins act like alcohol and make him drunk and randy
(ill-mannered or sexually excited). Or, will it be someone who misses the smell
of Christmas, no churches/religion essentially means that there is no
Christmas. The term “gown-and-bands” refers to the gown and decorative collar
worn by the clergymen. This visitor wants to hear the organ play Christmas
music again like it did when he was a child. He also wants to smell the scent
of myrrh (gum resin, from trees of eastern Africa and Arabia, used to make
incense; one of the three presents given to the infant Jesus (Mathew 2 and Luke
2)) again. Or, will the last the last visitor be someone like the narrator;
someone who doesn’t believe in God, but still wonders what all of the fuss is
about.
Bored,
uniformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed,
yet tending to this cross of ground
Through
suburb scrub because it held unspilt
So
long and equably what since is found
Only
in separation—marriage, and birth,
And
death, and thought of these—for which was built
This
special shell? For, though I’ve no idea
What
this accoutered frowsty barn is worth,
It
pleases me to stand in silence here; (46-54)
In stanza six, the clumsy and ignorant
narrator returns, but this time he appears to have been touched by religion and
found some new sort of respect for it. He knows that the “Ghostly [means both
spiritual and saint] silt” (fine earth; especially particles of such soil
floating in rivers, ponds, or lakes) was said to be spread over this “cross of
ground” (most churches were built in the shape of a cross); nonetheless, he
tends (to show an inclination or tendency) to travel there through the scrub (a
thick growth of stunted trees or shrubs) of suburbia to try and experience the
power of the church himself. The Church has stood for so long without being
destroyed, so there must be something there, right? This “special shell” (i.e.
churches) was built to celebrate marriages, births, and the lives of those who
have died; so can religion be all that bad? The narrator shows respect for the
church and religion by saying that even though he doesn’t know what this
“frowsty [musty, uncared-for appearance] barn is worth,” it still “pleases him
to stand in silence here.” Silence connotes comfort; he doesn’t feel the need
to disrespect the church by making noise any longer, he simply enjoys his
surroundings.
A
serious house on serious earth it is,
In
whose blent air all our compulsions meet,
Are
recognized, and robed as destinies.
And
that much never can be obsolete,
Since
someone will forever be surprising
A
hunger in himself to be more serious,
And
gravitating with it to this ground,
Which,
he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If
only that so many dead lie round. (55-64)
Stanza seven shows the narrator as being
an independent thinker; he realizes religion will always have a place in the
hearts of man, because they need to believe in something that is greater than themselves.
Churches will never fall out of use. Until about the nineteenth century, the
word “serious” meant religious; so saying “a serious house on serious earth”
means a religious house on holy ground. The church is where all of our
compulsions (an irresistible persistent impulse to perform an act) are
realized. The word “destiny” is given to major life events in order to explain
them. Destiny is said to be God’s will; the cliché “everything happens for a
reason” comes to mind here. The fear of God’s wrath holds people accountable
for their actions. God gives humans guidelines to live their lives, which is
something that a lot of people need. Religion teaches you “right” from “wrong;”
thus, religion becomes a necessary entity to keep society running smoothly. People
inherently want answers: why was I born? Why did such and such have to happen
to me? Religion is able to answer these questions, which gives us a purpose.
Only those who are dead know the truth about whether there is a heaven or not.
Works
Cited
Monumental
brass:
Wikipedia contributors.
"Monumental brass." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 2 Mar. 2012. Web. 13
Mar. 2012.
Greenblatt,
Stephen, ed. The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Twentieth Century
and After. 8th ed. Vol. F. New York: Norton, 2006.