Lessons from Downton Abbey: Following Jesus the Master/Servant

Fourth Week of Lent

March 10, 2013

Anchor: Downton Abbey

Frame: Thomas and O’Brien, betrayal and brokenness

Thread: Monotations

Matthew 26:14-16 (JB Phillips)

After this, one of the twelve, Judas Iscariot by name, approached the chief priests. “What will you give me,” he said to them, “if I hand him over to you?” They settled with him for thirty silver coins, and from then on he looked for a convenient opportunity to betray Jesus.

Judas is the quintessential Lenten drama character. He is an enigma. Was he evil and bent on destroying all that Jesus was attempting to build? Was he misguided? Was he politically motivated? Was he hoping to shove Jesus into action? Simply, we do not know why Judas did what he did. We only know what he did. I also find it intriguing that all 3 synoptic gospels agree that the ultimate sign of Judas’ betrayal was an act of love and affection: a kiss.

Thomas the footman and O’Brien the lady’s maid are two of the most easily unlikable characters on Downton Abbey. They scheme and betray their coworkers as well as the family that they serve. Again and again they act out of purely selfish motivation and sometimes just plain meanness. 

Thomas is a thief and a coward. He steals wine from the house and blames it on Bates the valet. During the World War he wrangles himself a post in the medical corps hoping that would keep him from seeing action, but when he is sent to the front lines as a medic he has himself shot in the hand so that he will get sent home. After the war he dabbles in the black market and loses what little resources he had. He wants Lord Grantham to trust him enough to make Thomas his new valet, so Thomas steals Grantham’s dog in a scheme to be seen as the triumphant hero when he almost miraculously finds the pet.

O’Brien is a bit harder to read. While her character is somewhat more complex than Thomas’, she is even less sympathetic because of it. She seems to despise her role as a maid to Lady Grantham, even though it is a position of great responsibility and respect. She takes an instant dislike to Bates the valet and humiliates him in front of the visiting Duke. She schemes with Thomas to impugn Bates and get rid of him. She belittles her coworkers and speaks with spite of her employers. She causes physical harm to Lady Grantham (albeit surreptitiously).

Thomas’ and O’Brien’s characters contrast starkly with the rest of the servant staff, who are fiercely loyal to the family they serve. In fact the whole system works on loyalty. Thomas and O’Brien’s action not only betray those whom they serve and work with, but the whole structure and order in which they live.

Betrayal and denial are maybe obvious themes for Lent. I hope we can avoid the whole conversation about how our daily betrayals (mostly trivial sins) cause baby Jesus to cry.I’m pretty sure very few of us see ourselves as a Thomas or O’Brien, much less a Judas or Peter. Yet many of us have felt betrayed by those we love, injured deliberately or inadvertently but injured nonetheless. And more than a few of us have acted with the best of intentions and still hurt others. There are obvious betrayals such as allowing our nation to ignore the plight of the poor and hungry while we find the means to increase the stores of war and power.

I am all too aware of my desire to answer the question of betrayal by quoting other things that Jesus taught, like loving your enemy and turning the other cheek. I am also aware that when I am hot with anger at the injury someone has caused me, those answers ring hollow and snarky. There is a great chasm between the “do this” and the “how the hell do you do that?” 

We all betray the best dreams of ourselves, we get distracted from lofty ideals by the mundane duties of everyday life. We want to be daring Christians - daring progressive Christians, no doubt - but all too many times it is easier just to go along than to cause a scene.

So when we are confronted by a Thomas or an O’Brien, a Judas or a Peter, in someone else or inside our own selves, how do we respond? How do we follow this almost super-human Jesus who does seem able to love even his betrayers. Did Jesus kiss Judas back?

A good friend of mine was a clergy woman who had risen above the sexual abuse inflicted upon her by her pastor when she was a youth. At a state-wide gathering she and I were heading into the main hall to attend a service of Holy Communion. She stopped at the threshold of the entryway. Standing at the head of the main aisle, holding the communion bread, was her abuser. She said, “I can’t do this. I can’t receive grace from him.” She turned and left, and I couldn’t blame her. She felt betrayed both by the man holding the bread and by the system of the Church which never held him accountable for his crimes.

Statistics vary but most say that somewhere between 1/5 and 1/3 of all women have suffered sexual abuse or violence. That means that if 50 women come to SCUCC on a Sunday morning (just an arbitrary number), 10 to 20 of them may have been victims of abuse or violence. It also means that probably every one of us knows someone who has been a victim.

So while betrayal may be a stereotypical topic for Lent, the question of how do we heal and move on from betrayal is anything but trite. How do we help each other heal? How do we live in the world and transform the world so that there is less violence, less propensity for abuse and betrayal?