Above is a photograph of a fungus known as Lawyer’s wig; Shaggy cap or – in the full cream version Coprinus comatus. I only mention this because we’ve been reading this week that the Home Secretary is considering abolishing jury trials for many crimes which would previously have been put before twelve randomly selected humans. A more suspicious and cynical person like me might wonder if the real motivation is that too many jury trials of pensioners concerned about the environment or about genocides abroad are being acquitted by juries who refuse to send such obvious terrorists to prison, thereby annoying the Home Secretary greatly. Not just lawyers but many perfectly sane people would argue that it blows a hole below the waterline in the justice system if the determination of guilt and innocence is not assisted by ordinary people using their common sense experience of life and evidence.
I will call in evidence for my point of view, a 10.00 am Wednesday prayer book communion at St Mary Redcliffe church in Bristol where I was a curate many years ago. A Wednesday prayer book communion is not a service which normally draws a crowd. A scattering of enthusiasts maybe, a couple of tourists too embarrassed to get up and leave; leaving a total of eight at the most. It always took place in the small Lady Chapel which saved me from bellowing the obscure 17th century text down the nave like the skipper of a sailing boat in a storm. The other reason for corralling the congregation in a small space is that some communicants like to sit at the back. They come early to sit at the back, and so the distribution of communion can take an eternity as they shuffle achingly slowly towards the altar.
Except on this particular day I arrived from the vestry to find the Lady Chapel bursting with eager but silent communicants. That was the first surprise. The second surprise was that they were all almost identically dressed. They looked as if they’d come off a production line. So I took the service, preached an ad hoc homily with no idea how to pitch it and went to the back of the chapel at the end of the service. I thanked them individually for coming and they were polite and thanked me for my time in voices that seemed as identical as their tweed jackets, polished shoes and pressed trousers. After the tenth or eleventh handshake I plucked up my courage and asked one of them – “Where have you all come from?” – “Oh we’re all high court judges and we’re at the hotel next door on a course.” I said a brief silent prayer that they might be studying diversity.
This photo above is of some clumping fungi which I didn’t identify on the day but which describe the cultural and social uniformity of those judges rather better than I could do in words, and in any case could represent the rear view of my congregation as I walked into the chapel. I was amused when I saw today that I took the picture at Browne’s Folly south of Bath.
So to draw the threads together in case you’re wondering what two sorts of fungi, a congregation of High Court judges and the removal of Jury trials have, it’s the word lawyer. I could add a side dish of folly too. What shocked me that day in Redcliffe was that our senior judiciary could be drawn from such a limited social, cultural and let’s be honest – class – group. That’s without mentioning women or people of colour. In a perfect world we could expect our lawyers, politicians and clergy to understand something of the world of a teenage shoplifter, a single mum who can’t afford a TV license or a rough sleeper who consoles themselves with cheap alcohol or drugs – but we know that’s not the case. Our underfunded judicial system and the prison service which oversees its sanctions are not fit for purpose. The answer is investment, long term planning and far greater diversity; not foolish cuts in an already unjust system that describes peaceful and legal protest as terrorism.
So there’s my yoking together without violence several seemingly unconnected ideas – courtesy of Samuel Johnson’s stupid comment on the metaphysical poets. All because we’re off to the Bannau Brycheiniog and tomorrow night we’ll be looking down the valley towards Tretower Court which has strong familial connections with George Herbert. I love the Metaphysicals!
