Why Won’t You Sing Jerusalem?

It had been an organised trip for priests still completing their initial years of training, or in their first, post-training parish. A group of us were sitting on the veranda of the retreat complex in which we were staying, and the topic turned to hymns we didn’t like (for whatever reasons, we didn’t like these particular ones), and I caused a bit of furore by airing my complete dislike, which almost borders on hatred, of Blake’s poem which we know as ‘Jerusalem’.

It seems one of the most unlikely of places in which to air my passionate dislike of the hymn Jerusalem. Here I was on a visit to Spain to learn more about Theresa of Avila and John of the Cross (both known as 17th Century CE mystics), the Carmelite movement, and the spirituality which came from them.

Now, given that this has been mooted as the preferred alternative to the current British National Anthem in many contemporary circles, this was definitely opening a can of worms. I found myself surprised that I turned out to be a lone voice. Of course me, being me, pretty much stood my ground and defended my position thoroughly.

Not sure I ingratiated myself to the others though… :).

Here’s why.

Arthurian Myth & Victorianism

I had fairly wide, and voracious, reading habits throughout my teens, and one of the many things I dabbled in was Arthurian Myth. So the first time I read Jerusalem, I thought that the author was genuinely having a laugh. I honestly couldn’t envisage how any one could take it seriously, never mind singing it in a Church setting.

But then I learned more and more about the Victorian period, its nationalistic fervour, and its quest to invigorate the Imperialistic agenda through capturing the British imagination through undoubted national heroes – real or imagined.

A great deal more about the love affair with Jerusalem became clearer to me. The Celtic heroine, Boudicca, became the embodiment of Britannia; Shakespeare became the subject of painting and poetry; Arthurian Myth suffused the imagination of the Romantic movement; and the Pre-Raphaelites had a field day with it all. And underlying it all was a belief in the almost Divine Right of the Victorians to spread Empire, Britishness and Christianity everywhere.

Into this maelstrom of Empire building, Blake comes as the writer of the little poem which we call ‘Jerusalem’:

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountain green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.

Legendary Mish-Mash

Arthurian Legend is a mixture of pagan and Christian legends. Whether it be the Holy Lance (which is said to be the spear which pierced Jesus’ side in the Crucifixion [John 19 v 34]) or Excalibur (one of the legendary swords created by Weyland Smith, and one of the 13 Celtic Treasures of folklore), the mish-mash which created the current legends is more than evidenced in the vast corpus of Arthurian material available (never mind the modern adaptations and reinterpretations which abound).

The first stanza of Blake’s poem also shows this. The Grail legend suggests that Joseph of Arimathea was the Uncle of Jesus, and brought Jesus on a business/trading trip to the British Isles whilst still a boy. Whilst it is plausible that traders did come from the Middle East to the area of Cornwall for its tin (as an example), the evidence for this trip of Jesus to the British Isles is wholly lacking, as is the Uncle-nephew relationship. A bizarre bit of hagiography, but unlikely.

I would, therefore, suggest that the answer to each of the questions in the first stanza is, no.

So, why the ire of my colleagues?

Jingoism

One can, and should, be proud of one’s origins. But when that becomes a source of ‘one-up-manship’ then I would suggest that we have entered the territory of jingoism. The ‘we’re better because we are’ mentality that is National Pride gone mad.

In 1916, Sir Hubert Parry set the lines of Jerusalem to music, which led to it becoming a patriotic hymn, and the anthem of the Women’s Institute.

The second stanza of the poem is about an individual and corporate attempt to recapture the purity of that past moment when Jesus walked on England’s soil and bring Heaven to Earth once again. This, combined with the first stanza, makes Jerusalem a completely jingoistic hymn, and I loathe jingoism completely and utterly.

There is a very fine line between National Pride, and jingoism, and that line can, unfortunately, be crossed all too easily.

Growing up in Northern Ireland I was surrounded and steeped in this. From the Gable end paintings all the year round, to the insanity of the celebrations of the marching season, which included bonfires; painting the kerb blocks red, white, and blue; hanging bunting and flags from everything; raising temporary arches daubed in jingoistic iconography; and singing songs filled with hatred – e.g. “We are, we are, we are the Billy boys (x2), we’re up to our necks in Fenian blood, surrender or you’ll die! Because we are the Billy boys.”… jingoism was everywhere. And, sure, it was just a bit of fun…

I fully admit that my experiences have left me overly-sensitive to jingoistic leanings, and so I tend to spout a lot of ‘hum bug’ at sporting events, and other over-the-top national celebrations which may be going on… but then who can truly blame me when you’re British if you’re doing well, and Scottish, Welsh, or Irish if not? And that’s not to mention being English if you’re doing well, and merely British if not.

And to cap it off… Swedenborg

So, although jingoism is the main reason why I won’t sing Jerusalem (and I’ll tolerate the National Anthem because we don’t sing the more jingoistic verses, and can see it as a prayer for Her Majesty), it’s not the only one.

Blake was also not Orthodox Christian in his beliefs: he was influenced by Emmanuel Swedenborg. This is most clear in Blake’s painting, “Elohim creates Adam”.

This painting shows the dualism of Blake – it depicts the moment in which a soul is being placed in Adam.

Adam is contorted in agony, and Elohim’s face is sorrowful. This implies that the good, spiritual soul is being imprisoned within the corrupt, evil matter of the body – one of the earliest teachings of Christian heretics.

Not only was Blake writing nationalistic bravo, he was also embedding non-Christian beliefs into his work. Jingoism and non-Christian beliefs… those are the reasons why I won’t sing Blake’s Jerusalem.

But don’t let me stop you if you still want to.