While Julie and I enjoyed the season two premiere for the most part, we both found that it was way too long (nearly two hours), and tried to pack in far too many story lines. There was something else, however, that was troubling me...something I couldn't quite put my finger on until last night. I was troubled by a) my own guilt in being disappointed that the sharp distinctions between social classes was going away, and b) why I felt unnerved about this ending of a unique age.
As to the former, I have never lived conscientiously within the norms and boundaries of hard, fast social distinctions. As a white American, I have always been of the ruling class in so many ways. In a more general sense, I have always lived in a country made up almost entirely of European peasants and African slaves, many of whom have done exceedingly well and attained a level of aristocracy (not in terms of bloodlines, but certainly in terms of wealth, influence, and gentility). I identify with both the aristocratic Grantham/Crawley clans and the servants below.
In so many ways, Downton Abbey serves as a metaphor for the earthly and the heavenly, represented by the floor space in the mansion, who occupies each space, and the seriousness with which one ascends or descends. The analogy breaks down, of course, very quickly as we see that the servants below are perhaps more virtuous than the lords and ladies above, all of whom seem to be absurdly preoccupied with material things. But stick with me for just a minute is using the abbey as an analogy for the earthly and heavenly. Paul writes to the church in Colossae, "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above,, not on things that are on earth" (3:1-2). Indeed, there is something very heavenly about the upper floors occupied by the lords and ladies of Grantham. There is virtue, propriety, beauty, attention to detail, knowledge, a respect for identity and name (based on bloodlines), and an appropriation for stewarding the estate well in addition to serving as a benefactor within the larger community. The floor below--where the maids, butler, footmen, cooks, et al do most of their working and commiserating--is notably marked by coarseness, vulgarity, griminess, and ignorance. In order for the servants to ascend into the upper reaches of the estate, they must be properly attired. Among many of the servants, there is a clear understanding that that is simply not their place, whatever their longings may be.
Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard uses a similar kingdom analogy in commenting upon the uniqueness of our union with Christ (The Sickness Unto Death). What is offered to us by God in Christ is likened to the invitation by a king to a day-laborer that he marry his daughter and be his son-in-law. To the laborer, this is almost unthinkable, even scandalous. He understands that this demands he abandon his comfortable life in exchange for a title, rules of etiquette, expectations, and identity as son of the king.
It would be unthinkable for one of the servants to attain to lordship. In fact, it was impossible. I could go on regarding this metaphor (less a metaphor than a reality for us, made sons and daughters of the Most High God through Jesus Christ by the power of the Spirit), but want to stay focused on Downton (for more on the theology of adoption and our union with Christ, see J. Todd Billings wonderful book Union with Christ: Reframing Theology and Ministry for the Church).
My trouble with Downton is that as World War I heats up, it is clear that the old era is ending. The lines of demarcation between landed gentry and the working class are blurred, if not annihilated. This comes into sharp focus as Downton Abbey is turned into a convalescence hospital for soldiers injured on the front. Now, of course there is much good (even biblical) in using the the estate not simply for elaborate dinner parties but for caring for the sick and injured. However, what is upsetting to me is that the propriety, expectations, and uniqueness of the earl and his family is muddled, if not lost, as the servants take over control of the estate. Perhaps my concern is that it highlights justification (the servants, the coarse, the vulgar, and the least-of-these are accepted), but neglects sanctification (the earthly invades and takes over the heavenly, as opposed to the heavenly accepting the earthly and making it heavenly).
That is my trouble with Downton Abbey today. And, much as I'd like to think that the show will suspend reality and mark a return to the glorious days of the previous era, I know the trajectory that history has taken. It is gone. Certainly, on one hand I rejoice in this--otherwise I would probably be a footman at some lords estate. On the other hand, it seems that the trajectory of history is to demand (ironically, by way of entitlement) the ascension to heavenly things on earthly terms and without letting go of earthly things.
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