Were she still alive I feel sure Jane Austen would forgive my alliterative adaptation of her famous novel’s title. As text reading declines, title composition becomes more important. Miss Austen knew that, even though in her day readers were the new educated, gossips, the social media. Her sharp but beautiful grasp of people’s minds was as a torch with many colour filters lighting up a developing society. Somewhat like a Chloe Chua precision of musical notes, direct and to the heart’s point. For many it’s a better world now. For some it is rougher. Sins today can be rationalised away; sensitivity is often destructive.
Pictures now dominate our communications. Snapshots are memory plugs that fit any mind hole. As a commentary they are static. Good for records, bad for teaching. We need timeframe to give us perspective, whether loving or forbearing. The rock mood of morning must become a wistful sunset. The nowness of day gives rise to the nuances of night.
A wise priest, Canon Gordon Albion, once told a couple tying the knot that in his view misunderstanding was the single biggest cause of marriage breakdowns. It is a complex event, misunderstanding. It can be for hurt or humour, for crassness or clarity, for love or licence. We do not always even understand what it is for – hence its descriptive title. We experience much fake news today but we have always been pummelled with a great deal of questionable data, some of it straight from our personality, some from the evil side of our creativity. When we misunderstand, it is often only because we want more attention.
When we ask that our children be sensitive do we mean totally externally sensitive or selectively inwardly aware? You can’t have one without the other. The sensitivity of another’s suffering is inevitably linked to the awareness of one’s own. As a child I prayed to be sensitive, thinking it would enable me to appreciate whatever situations I discovered in life. As a viewer of the world’s present turmoil I sometimes wonder at the wisdom of such feelings. But I give thanks that both the happiest and the saddest events touch what I consider my soul.
Our sensitivity can be manipulated – indeed, we are masters at it. When we fix it, our vision is usually more short-term than percipient. Nostalgia is some people’s Achilles heel. If I mourn the past it is not for its ending but for what I didn’t make of it. I applaud the future, not that I may see a lot of it, but for all those who will.
As Boris Pasternak made Dr Zhivago say: “What a wonderful time to be alive.”
Sensitivity is what makes us appreciate life. The price for this blessing is an awareness of our failings. We tend not to forgive our own sins but instead to envy others’ successes. Some, especially today a few young people, find that too much of a burden. An understandable but sad consequence of the gift of being unique.
Education’s first duty is to help people to be strong enough to live in a ruthless world. Today that must include how to withstand the guilt that sensitivity brings with it.
We need to understand that humans can be greater than guilt.
And we must be proud of that.
Good morning
John Bittleston
A moment, perhaps, to ponder and remember. No need to forget.
If you have a greater-than-guilt thought please pen it to [email protected].
27 Jul 2025
