292 My Story Talk 5 Brentwood School 1950-56 Part 2

My Story   Talk 5   Brentwood School (1950-1956) Part Two

Welcome to Talk 5 in our series where I’m reflecting on God’s goodness to me throughout my life. Today we’re talking about the academic programme at Brentwood, the chaplain, the chapel and Divinity lessons, and the school CCF.

 

Academic Programme

A typical day at Brentwood began with chapel or assembly at 8.50am. This lasted about half an hour. Lessons, which were all 45 minutes long, began at 9.30. The first two periods were followed by a 15 minute break at 11am and the next two periods were followed by lunch at 1pm. With the exception of Wednesdays and Saturdays which were dedicated to sporting activities, there were three periods each afternoon, beginning at 1.45 and ending at 4pm.

 

And then of course there was homework, which at Brentwood was called prep. In the first year this was expected to take us an hour and a half each evening, increasing to three hours when you were in the sixth form taking A levels. This often involved memorizing things on which you were going to be tested the next day.

 

And there were huge incentives for doing your prep thoroughly. Apart from the fact that you might be put in detention on Wednesday afternoon if you failed the test, a form order was produced every two or three weeks and sent home to your parents to let them know your current position in class. This certainly kept us on our toes, and, although at Brentwood I never came top as I had regularly done at primary school, I made sure I was always in the top 10.

 

Subjects in our first year, all of which were compulsory, included English, French, Latin, Maths, History, Geography, Physics, Art or Woodwork, Divinity (Religious Education), and Gym. But after the first year, which at Brentwood was referred to as the second form, the system changed and the subjects you took depended on which stream you had chosen to enter.

 

The Third Form (i.e. the second year) was divided into four streams, Classical Three, Science Three, Modern Three, and General Three. The advantage of this system was that boys could concentrate early on the areas where they hoped to specialise later. The disadvantage was, of course, that not everyone was at all sure at such a young age of what those future areas might be. It also meant that relatively little teaching was given on some quite important subjects. For example, you did relatively little science if you went into the classical stream.

 

However, in my case, I think the system proved beneficial. I opted for the classical stream because I was interested in languages and had shown that I had a measure of ability in that area. In doing so I was able to begin studying Greek at the age of 12 which was to prove important in what the Lord had for me in the future.

 

 

 

At the age of 15, when we were in the fifth form, we all took O-level exams (General Certificate of Education, Ordinary Level), after which another choice had to be made.  Which sixth form stream to enter? Although successful in all my exams, my best results were in languages, and of all the streams available the choice for me was narrowed down to Lower Sixth Classics where I could take Latin, Greek, and Classical History, or Lower Six Arts where the options were Latin or English Literature, French, and German or Mediaeval History. Not knowing then the future God had planned for me, I opted for the Arts stream and chose Latin, French, and Mediaeval History for my A-level subjects and Spanish as a subsidiary subject for O-level.

 

I thank God that, with his help, I passed all these exams. I was particularly grateful about History. A few months before we were due to sit the exams, my history teacher, Mr. Moulde, said to me,

 

Quite honestly, Petts, I think you’re going to fail History.

 

The basic reason for this was that I wasn’t doing enough prep because of all the church activities I was engaged in because, among other things, halfway through my A-level course I had felt God calling me to the ministry. But more about that in the next talk. So, in front of the whole class, I replied,

 

The problem is, Sir, that I believe that God has called me to be a minister, and that to gain as much experience as I can, I need to be involved as much as possible in my local church. I believe that if I honour God, and if he wants me to pass History, then he will help me to do so.

 

To which he replied,

 

Well, Petts, I respect your faith, but I can’t say that I agree with you. Unless you put in a lot more work, you will certainly fail.

 

I did try to put in more work on History without giving up any of my church activities. When the results came through I was delighted to discover that I had scored 60% (the pass mark being 40). And at the beginning of the next term, as I happened to meet Mr. Moulde in the quad, he said to me with a broad smile,

 

Well, Petts, what do you mean by getting 60? I would never have believed it. Congratulations.

 

Later that term I won a scholarship at Brasenose College, Oxford to read Philosophy, Politics and Economics. But more of that in a later talk. I need now to say more about my Christian faith while I was at Brentwood. This, of course, needs to be understood alongside my experience at Elm Park Baptist Church which will be the subject of our next talk. At school I was to get a taste of a different kind of Christianity, some of which wasn’t Christianity at all as I understood it. But this will become clear in a moment.

 

The Chaplain, the Chapel, and Divinity lessons

The religious climate in the UK in the 1950s was very different from today. Although church attendance had dropped, probably caused by disillusionment because of the war, there was still a general acceptance of the basic truths of Christianity. This, coupled with the fact that religious teaching at Brentwood was, in the words of the school prospectus, in accordance with that of the Church of England, meant that with the exception of Divinity (RE) lessons, apart from one experience I will mention later, there was rarely anything much that would challenge my Christian faith.  Surprisingly the source of that challenge was the Chaplain, the Chapel, and what was taught in Divinity lessons.

 

The Chaplain, the Reverend R. R. Lewis, M.A. was a graduate of Jesus College, Oxford, and an ordained Church of England priest. As such, he was responsible for most of what went on in chapel and taught all the weekly Divinity lessons. From this it was clear, because he openly acknowledged it, that he did not believe in the deity of Christ, the virgin birth, or the resurrection. In fact he denied the possibility of miracles on the grounds that, if God created the laws of the universe, he would not break his own rules! Of course, when I told my father about this, he reminded me of the outstanding miracle experienced by Auntie May which I mentioned at the beginning of this series.

 

On another occasion we were told that God could not foretell the future because, if he could, that would mean that we could not be held responsible for our actions. I know some Christians do struggle with this, but, as I have pointed out elsewhere, if I know that something will happen it does not mean that I am causing it to happen.

 

Having said all that, Mr. Lewis was a nice enough man. I just could not, and still cannot, understand how the Church of England can allow people with such views to hold office in the church. Anglicans often talk about what they consider to be the advantages of the C. of E. being what they call a broad church, but in my view what they claim to be its greatest strength is actually its greatest weakness.

 

Of course, back then I knew nothing of the evangelical wing of the Church of England and tended to assume that Anglicans all held views like those of our school chaplain. It was later at Oxford that I first met godly people who were part of the C. of E. and whose views, apart from the fact that they believed in infant baptism, were much closer to mine.

 

And I praise God for the great things that are happening today in those parts of the church where the Bible is honoured and charismatic gifts are encouraged. But from my, admittedly limited, experience of Anglican worship, it was very different from that in the 1950s.

 

Worship in chapel was very different from what I experienced in our Baptist Church each Sunday. Some differences were relatively unimportant. For example, in chapel we sang Psalms instead of reading them, and we knelt for prayer rather than sitting. But others were more serious. Prayers were never spontaneous, but read from a book, and they were the same prayers week after week!

 

And preachers would be dressed in robes and precede their sermons with,

 

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen,

 

something which at times verged on the blasphemous bearing in mind the content of what sometimes followed in the sermon.

 

But none of this seriously challenged my faith, unlike an experience I had in class, once again with our French teacher, M. Jacquotet. I don’t remember what I had said, but I do remember his response:

 

Monsieur Petts, you are a silly little fool if you think that, if there is a God, he can possibly be interested in you!

 

At the time, I had no answer. There is an apparent logic to arguments like these, but I knew that there must be an answer. So that evening I told my father what my teacher had said, to which he replied,

 

But that is exactly what we Christians dare to believe. God isn’t limited like us. He’s so big that he has the capacity to care about every single person and every single thing in the universe. Your teacher clearly doesn’t understand this.

 

And I remembered something that we had been told to memorise in our English Literature lessons. It was taken from Matthew 6:26.

 

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

 

So my father’s advice and the shield of faith, which is the word of God, extinguished yet another of those flaming arrows sent by the evil one (Ephesians 6:16). But my father’s Christian influence on my thinking was also very evident in a decision I made with regard to the school Combined Cadet Force.

 

The CCF and pacifism

As I mentioned in Talk One, my father was a conscientious objector during the war. As a Christian he took seriously all the teaching of Jesus, and that included the command to Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44) and he could not see how he could obey this command by killing them. He had to go before a tribunal and answer searching questions to test if his objections were genuine and, as a result, was exempted from military service and allowed to continue his profession as a schoolteacher.

 

 

 

Now at Brentwood it was compulsory for boys in the fourth form and above to be part of the school’s Combined Cadet Force (CCF), generally referred to in school as ‘the corps’. This meant that every Thursday boys would dress in Army or Air Force uniform throughout the day and during the last period of the afternoon receive military training on the school playing fields.

 

There was, however, a provision for a boy to register as a Conscientious Objector if he could satisfy the Headmaster that his objections were sincere. And so, following my father’s example, at the age of 14, I was interviewed and asked to explain my objections, as a result of which I was allowed to do First Aid training with the Red Cross as part of the non-uniformed branch of the corps.

 

Now I realise that most Christians do not take the same pacifist stance. This is one of those issues where Christians are disagreed, and each person must follow their own conscience in the matter. But for me at the time, arguing for pacificism was in many ways the most vital way I had of expressing my Christian faith. Memories of World War II were still very real and our armed forces were already engaged in conflict in the Korean War from 1950 to 1953. Fear of a third world war was very real, and at the time all boys of eighteen were compelled to do National Service involving two years’ military training in one of the armed forces.

 

So the issue of whether it is right to take up arms against one’s fellow human beings was particularly relevant throughout my school years, and there were frequent discussions about it both at school and at church.

 

Whether I was right or wrong to adopt a pacifist position is for others to decide, but what it did for me and the development of my character was undeniable. I was forced to stand up for what I believed in, despite the teasing and accusations of cowardice that inevitably come to people who refuse to fight. The ability to think independently rather than following the majority view, and the resolve to take seriously the teaching of Jesus and to follow it, were to become the determining factors of my life.

 

So I thank God for my years at Brentwood. They not only provided the foundation for future academic achievements but gave me opportunity to learn how to think for myself and to stand up for what I believe to be right. And, best of all, they were years when I determined to follow Jesus. My faith was both challenged and encouraged, but Brentwood was, of course, by no means the only factor, because throughout my years there I was also a regular attender at Elm Park Baptist Church, which is the subject of the next talk.