Finding the narrative line

Irene Pickard (née Speller),  started her adult life as a personal secretary, one of the few occupations open to 'respectable' young women in 1911. The typewriter was a real instrument of female emancipation. Its mastery, along with the other secretarial skills, enabling a degree of income and independence, perhaps even entrée into homes and lives of the socially 'superior'. In the class ridden society of La Belle Époque it was one of the few opportunities for a girl to 'better' herself, to enter worlds which her birth might not have given her access to.

Fortunately for posterity, Irene never lost the secretarial habit of making copies and filing. That is how her archive came about. It was composed of a mass of documents created between 1911 and 1982, a library of over 100 volumes on Jungian related themes, a box of personal letters between Rendel Harris and herself, articles in two periodicals, one published on each side of the Atlantic, along with a number of pamphlets written by her husband, Bertram, and others. 

When I first encountered what Irene had referred to as her 'compost heap' it was obvious that hidden within was a remarkable story. The problem was finding a narrative line which would give it order.

First there was the biographic frame of lives lived in Britain, Switzerland and the USA, and identifying who the main persona were, their relationships, the nature of the work they were engaged with, and how Quakerism related to their lives. Then there was the task of identifying the chronology –  which document belong to when. But what was central was the story of Irene's infatuation with Jung as a complement and argumentation to her Quakerism. And not just Irene, but the other members of the Quaker-Jungian group in Geneva too. An infatuation that would prove to have traceable consequences on both sides of the Atlantic up until the present.

As I familiarised myself with the archive, what became apparent was that Irene and the others had gone through a learning process with identifiable stages.

First came a preparatory stage, which put them in Geneva in between the wars and explained why they were there. A stage dominated by the theme of peace-work, but also by how Irene and Bertram came together as a couple.

Then came their introduction to Jung, which led to an intense phase of exploration and assimilation of his ideas. A period which according to Irene produced "the most intensive and far reaching study group I have ever known".

What followed in the later 1930s was a period of accommodation as the impact of Jung's ideas on their lives and faith were worked through, set against the the deteriorating international situation.

That led to a stage of dissemination starting during the Second World War, as the now scattered group shared what they had learned with the wider Quaker community and beyond. Dissemination that continued for years in the aftermath of the war as Irene and Bertram once more returned to Geneva to pick up the threads of their peace-work.

Finally there was a stage of consequences as the wider Quaker world absorbed what was being shared and undertook their own explorations and discoveries, and evaluated the the significance of Jung to their lives and faith.

Following that pattern of development allowed chapters to emerge and take their place. 

All that was needed was to add a few chapters to provide context and to trace the development of the peace work Bertram was engaged with. No small matter for someone who became something of a hub for the efforts of so many of the NGOs in Geneva, and who played a part in the founding the the United Nations, and became one of the first members of its secretariat, mirroring the role he had created for himself before the war as the spokes person for the NGOs to the League of Nations. 

The interweave of the twin themes of living out the peace-testimony – the Bertram theme – whilst comprehending and deepening spirituality due to Jung – the Irene theme – formed the two voices of a fugue that was their shared life, and the two themes that run through the book.

Preliminary: (What is) Quakerism; Re-visioning Quakerism – Harris, Jones and Rowntree; 1914 – a World Ripped Asunder; Well met at Woodbrooke; The Peace Testimony; Quaker responses to the 'Great War' and its Aftermath; Peace-work in Geneva. 

Exploration and assimilation: Encountering Jung's Ideas; Tina Keller-Jenny's Exposition; Meeting with Jung in Zürich ; The Letters; Many papers were written and read; Reactions – H G Wood and Howard Collier.

Accommodation: The Rising Tide of Fascism; Reconciliation, Relief and Refugees; The Calm before the Storm; The Looming Storm; Belief in an Age of Analysis; The Last Gasps of the League; Escape. 

Dissemination: Peace-makers in a time of war: The Aftermath of War: The Road back to Geneva: The Women's International Forum and the Friday Club; After Aion – Irene's Dark Night of the Soul: Answer to Job: P W Martin and the Experiment in Depth: Elined, Irene and the Inward Light: Martin Buber, Marjorie Martin & Piet Englesman; The Various Light; Pierre Lacout – God is Silence: Peace as a Process; The Godmothers – Elined: The Godmothers – Irene.

Consequences:  Jungian Ripples in America: Jungian Ripples in Britain: The Living Myth.

Those are the working titles and the pattern of chapters.

Meeting the Messiah: 2 – Rendel Harris's christology

Rendel Harris (1852 – 1941) is largely forgotten these days. Some Quakers know of him because of the room named after him at Woodbrooke, the Quaker Study Centre, where his bust proudly surveys the room that bears his name, and because of the interpretation board on the walls in the main corridor which tells of his being its first Director of Studies. To Irene Pickard he was far more.

One of the problems in un-packaging her archive was to come to an understanding of her relationship with Dr J Rendel Harris, both at a personal level and as an influence on her spiritual and intellectual development. 

She worked as his secretary for over a twelve years, moving into his home after the death of his wife, becoming his general factotum as well as his private secretary. Even though he explicitly instructed that no biography about him should be written, she did just that in her retirement, privately publishing her Memories of J. Rendel Harris (1979).

She says of him, quoting and echoing W E Wilson's words:

The Doctor's academic many-sidedness is not half of the tale. A wonderful personality, full of humour, delighting in the society of all sorts of persons, a saint and mystic, utterly approachable. A man of immovable principles and strong prejudices. Delighting in fighting for great moral causes, yet charitable to opponents, and a personal friend of some whose principles he detested. Filled, even in old age, with the joy of living, radiating the love of Christ. To talk with him was stimulating, to enjoy his friendship was an education, to be his pupil for years was a privilege for which one can never be thankful enough.

For Irene, Rendel Harris functioned as a latter day John the Baptist, preparing the way for her immersion into Jung's vision of what the function of religion was and how it worked on the deep mind. She may not have been receptive to Jung's radical and challenging ideas without the preparation she received by being intimately exposed to Rendel Harris's thoughts and reflections on how Christianity evolved, and how its teachings might be understood – he was, according to Irene, particularly inspiring and adept at hermeneutics, the craft of understanding the relationship between a text and its reader. 

Rendel Harris also laid the foundation to her evolving understanding of Quakerism and Christianity, moving her on from her somewhat evangelical and literalist beginnings, as much by example as by any direct teaching. She was not his pupil, but, as his personal secretary she was very much looking over his shoulder and witnessing his mind at work. She would have typed up all of his later works and correspondence.

Coming to an understanding of Rendel Harris's beliefs about Christianity was very much an essential stepping stone in exploring Irene's archive. It was also a another step in my somewhat reluctant confrontation with some of the fundamentals of Christianity: the veracity of its foundational stories. Like it or not, researching materials like those in Irene's archive has consequences for one's own beliefs because it confronts your own prejudices and limitations by expanding the range and depth of information that underlie your opinions; it exposes you to different ways of thinking; it opens new vistas to the mind. You are necessarily affected by what you research.

Rendel Harris was a radical thinker for his age. As a scholar, he came to realise that Christianity had evolved, initially in a Jewish context, but with the addition of something new:

So long then, as nascent Christianity is making its way in a Jewish environment, it does so as a sect of Judaism, accepting the whole of the inspired Jewish documents, and re-interpreting them in the light of what it holds to be a larger revelation. The Origins of the Doctrine of the Trinity: Rendel Harris, 1919

He appears to have thought that it then evolved on through the convolutions of the early Church, until it reached a much more defined and stable state in the fourth and fifth centuries CE, when the creeds were created, and the early Christian texts were codified to form the New Testament, and then added to agreed versions of those Jewish books which formed the Old Testament, with, in the eyes of the Church, the teachings of the New superseding those of the Old.

He strongly suspected that the writers of the four Gospels used note books full of proof texts, traces of which survived in some of the ancient documents recently discovered in his time: his two volumes on Testimonies published in 1917 and 1920 suggested such traces. He thought that the proof texts were drawn from oral and written traditions about the life and teaching of Jesus, as well as from the Jewish scriptures. Their disappearance being much like the disappearance of an artist's cartoon or an architect's drawings when the finished work is complete.

He also accepted the scholastic arguments that Mark's Gospel was the primary Gospel, that is it was written before the others. This took him to a realisation of the importance of a discovery with which he was intimately involved – that of the Sinaitic palimpsest. The version of St Mark's Gospel in the palimpsest was both older and shorter than the canonical version, ending with the discovery of the empty tomb, and lacking the verses about the resurrection and ascension.

As a Quaker, Rendel Harris was at ease with the notion of the inward light, 'that of God in everyone' from which revelation sprang: a charismatic living presence within each and every person, if only they had the steadfast patience to wait upon it. As George Fox is reported to have said:

'The Scriptures were the prophets’ words and Christ’s and the apostles’ words, and what as they spoke they enjoyed and possessed and had it from the Lord’. And said, ‘Then what had any to do with the Scriptures, but as they came to the Spirit that gave them forth. …'   Margaret Fell, 1694

According to Fox, even Christ's words came from that inward wellspring: a radical thought that did not sit well with the orthodox belief in the Trinity, which asserted that Jesus was one with God from the beginning of time (that is identical with God). Fox's claim led to accusation that the Quakers denied the Trinity and were thus heretics, justifying much of the persecution they suffered.

Rendel Harris thought he understood what had happened. If St Mark's is the most authentic account, then the man Jesus had become infused with the wisdom of God at the moment of his baptism, which is where St Mark starts, so we should not wonder that there is no trace of Jesus after he was laid in the 'sepulchre hewn out of rock' with no resurrection and ascension, as is the case in the version of St Mark found on the palimpsest. Christ was that wisdom, accessible to all and universal, not the person Jesus. Testimony to its pre-existence and universality was to be found in other ancient wisdom writings. The emergent Christian churches of the late Roman Empire had welded it onto the man Jesus, rather than understanding its universality. The man Jesus simply exemplified its wonderful depth and brilliance more fully. He was the paradigm, the vehicle through which it was best exhibited. 

… Indeed we may say boldly, that Christianity as a dogmatic system is founded on two things: firstly, the identification of Jesus with the wisdom of God, and second, the description of Christ as identified with wisdom in terms borrowed from the Sapiential literature. The Origins of the Doctrine of the Trinity

Or, as he is reported in Irene's Memories to have said:

‘There is no suggestion nor fragment of evidence that we might, by excavating a thousand years, unearth an ecclesiastical Christ. He, at all events, is the dream and creation of a later age.’

It is interesting that Rendel Harris's Testimonies have been republished in 2011. Those works are still considered relevant to biblical studies as demonstrated by Alessandro Falcetta's paper on The Testimony Research of James Rendel Harris.

Rendel Harris's view of the Jewish nature of the first stages of the evolution of Christianity would be very much in accord with the views of such modern biblical scholars as Bart D Ehrman, Reza Aslan and Gésa Vermes, as would his view that the 'ecclesiastical Christ' being an artifice of later ages; although they have gone much further in developing both the understanding of Jesus as a Jew teaching Judaism to Jews, and of the evolution of Trinitarian Christianity.

The debates about the Sinaitic palimpsest and the problem posed for Christianity by the missing verses still continues.

Meeting the Messiah: 1

In researching Irene Pickard's archive it is inevitable that confronting the fundamental issue of the authenticity of Christianity was unavoidable. Hide as I might, investigating and challenging my own relationship to that vast two thousand year old tradition was not something I could duck out of. Inevitably, the very nature of the contents of the archive meant confronting my own understanding of what spirituality might be, what religions are, what role they have, and perhaps must have, in our lives, at a psychological level, if not also at a cultural and social level. 

I have for much of my life been a secular atheist, detached from involvement in any religious practice, believing myself immune to whatever appeal religions might have, protected by my intellectual training in the cannon of analytic philosophy. Religions were, ultimately, absurd, and their claims easily dismantled by the progressive application of ruthless logic. They had no useful part to play in life. They were at best delusions, at worst positively harmful. They were full of pre-scientific understandings of life, that necessarily melted away as the range and depth of our collective scientific understanding expanded. It was inevitable that they would be discarded into the dustbin of history, to borrow phrase much loved by Marxists. A lovely, clinically clean, brave new world was emerging due to intellectual advances, in which, no doubt, everything would be reducible in the end to a series of elegant mathematical formula or algorithms: intellectually satisfying in a mechanical sense, and sterile.

Only, that's not quite the truth about what happened to me. At about the age of thirty I collided with Zen Buddhism in the form of koans – intricate, logic destroying verbal Rubic cubes. Turn and turn them as you might, logical solutions are simply not possible. They twist the mind until eventually you are forced out of the comfort zone of your everyday frames of reference. Whoops! Bang! There goes the security of logical reduction used in defence of the frames of reference that you did not even know you had, but which had held your life in place until then. 

It was a bit like being plugged into Douglas Adam's Ultimate Perspective Vortex. You, naked and raw, are plugged in at one end and the vast complexity of the universe at the other. It is pretty clear which is going to win. Exposure to Zen induces a certain intellectual humility thereafter, and an openness to exploring what seemed intellectually off limits before. 

Having passed through the bowels of Zen, and on via Tai Chi and Qigong, where I encountered other meditative traditions, I have for the last decade been under the guidance of a Dzogchen practitioner from the Tibetan tradition: but I have also become a Quaker. I learned a little about them from my time teaching History, and I wanted to take a risk and try out going to a Meeting. What I did not expect was to fall through the silence into a place of honesty and welcome where I felt at home. It was whilst dipping my toes into the Quaker pond that I encountered Irene's archive.

As a researcher you are supposed to try to maintain some sort of objectivity in order to report on what you have found, however you are inevitably affected by exposure to your subjects' milieu of spiritual influence – you have to walk the same paths as the people you are studying – if in no more than you have to read what they read, read their comments as they digested what they were exposed to, read what they themselves wrote, and try to understand their understanding: you have to get inside their heads. It is a bit like wearing somebody-else's clothes and vicariously living aspects of their life whilst vainly trying not to be affected. You are inevitably changed by the experience.  

Historically, whether we like the fact or not, Christianity has done more to shape European culture than any other tradition, and via Europe, due to the technological and imperial explosion of the last three hundred years, the world. As a result an otherwise obscure Palestinian Jew of the first century CE has become the most influential spiritual teacher in history. Some influencer! Some obscurity! 2.382 billion followers (according to Wikipedia) beats anything on social media. It was clearly time to come to terms with the leviathan.

In the ten years since encountering Irene's archive, I have absorbed a very great deal that has deepened and widened my understanding. It has taken me places I would not have otherwise chosen to go, including having to come to some sort of terms with Christianity. Not my natural inclination. My early exposure to Christian piety had, I thought, inoculated me against having anything to do with 'faiths' – I do include them all – and led me to what I thought was a non-faith way: Buddhism. At least, that how Buddhism is often presented to the West, as being principally composed of meditative practices focussed on liberating the mind from the shackles of attachment. I now know that it is much more than that, and at bottom is just as much a faith-way.

Whatever my own views of Christianity, as a researcher I had to try to understand the Christianity of my subjects. Firstly there was Quakerism, at least that of the time of my subjects, which in itself meant delving into Quaker history. Then I had to try to understand Rendel Harris's Christianity – Irene's one time employer and mentor – and, the biggest ask of all, that of Carl Gustav Jung – the greatest intellectual influence on four of my subjects – Irene Pickard, Elined Kotschnig, P.W. and Marjory Martin – and significant in the life of the fifth, Bertram Pickard.

My subjects also met and were influenced by a number of the more prominent theologians of their time: Carl Barth, Adolf Keller, Visser 't Hooft, Paul Tillich and Martin Buber, among others. I had to develop at least a nodding acquaintance with their thoughts and even those of theological thinkers such as Kierkegaard.

It has been an interesting journey. It has made me realise that my early rejection of Christianity was based on a very simplistic understanding – but that vision is, after all, what I had been fed by the compulsory religious education and attendance as required in UK schools when I was young. I now know it to be a vastly more complex spiritual path. One that has left its footprint all over European thought, even those supposedly post-Christian traditions such as Humanism or Marxism, both hugely influenced by the Christian ethic, and in some ways being simply Christianity with God sucked out.

Ah, God – that's another problem, and one I still haven't come to terms with yet: the universe seems to get along perfectly well without. According to Jung I may be stuck at the 'death of God' stage. He may be right.

Sinaitic Palimpsest again

I must thank Richard Pickvance (The Friend 29 October) once more for his correction. 

Oh dear. David Lockyer’s letter (15 October) contains an endlessly repeated factoid. Constantine I did not establish Christianity as the official religion of the Roman empire. He simply stopped the persecution of Christians.

Christianity progressed (not without some setbacks) and several more emperors came and went before Theodosius I made Nicene Christianity the state religion. It is the difference between the Edict of Milan in 313 and the Edict of Thessalonica in 380.

Richard Pickvance

Mea culpa: I over simplified and repeated a 'factoid'* (as he termed it) in place of a much more complicated truth. However, Constantine did give the religion a degree of prominence and privilege in the Empire and was instrumental in encouraging the definition of an emerging Christian orthodoxy, even on occasions enforcing it; a version of Christianity that Rendel Harris referred to as containing 'an ecclesiastical Christ' who was very much a product of that later age.

The edifice of theology constructed by the emerging 'state' church of the Empire was what Rendel Harris felt had obscured the inspiring clarity of the original message: a clarity that spoke to one's inward condition as a guiding light. Prominent among those theological layerings obscuring the light was the concept of the incarnate divinity of Christ.

In Origin of the Doctrine of the Trinity he suggested that the divinity actually rested on the identification of Christ with the Divine Wisdom who was with God in the creation, not, as the Church taught, as a physical incarnation. That is why Rendel Harris was not perturbed by the discovery that the Sinaitic Palimpsest version of St Mark lacked both the resurrection and ascension. For Rendel Harris those omissions confirmed the gap that had grown between the 'ecclesiastical Christ' and the original.

*An item of unreliable information that is reported and repeated so often that it becomes accepted as fact. (Oxford Languages)

D.Lockyer

--------------

Irene Pickard, whose archive is the basis of Jung, The Quakers and Hitler, was Rendel Harris' personal secretary and would have typed the texts of all of his later works, including the Origins; an experience which readied her for engaging with Jung's ideas about the evolution of religions as projections of developments deep within the collective psyche.

The I Ching, Cary Baynes and Irene Pickard

Archives always hold unexpected discoveries. One of them in Irene Pickard's archive was a letter between her and Cary Baynes, best know as the translator from German into English of the I Ching. It was one of those moments when you go "who? what? why?" It did not seem to make sense that two women from apparently utterly separate worlds should have connected with each other. 

Irene Pickard: wife, mother; one time personal secretary to the first director of studies at Woodbrooke College, Birmingham, UK; resident in Geneva because of her husbands post as secretary to the Quaker Centre in Geneva – itself not exactly the most prominent or prestigious post in the world – a woman whose largely domestic life would not necessarily have connected with many people outside her day to day circle, or the small world of Quakers visiting Geneva. She was at times warden of the small Quaker hostel in the city and was noted for her ability to cater for unexpected guests.

Cary Baynes: American, born in Mexico, educated at two prestigious American institutions – Vassar College and John Hopkins University – thrice married; a friend and collaborator of Carl Jung and occasional resident in Zürich; translator into English of one of the most published Chinese classics – the I Ching – and largely resident in California. 

The degree of separation seemed almost maximal. 

That there should be a letter, written in friendly and almost intimate terms between the two, seemed almost crazy; but there it was in the archive, dated August 1936. 

From the contents both women clearly knew of each other's personal lives and had formed a degree of friendship. 

What the letter revealed was that they had met when Emma Jung had travelled from Zürich to Geneva in order to deliver a series of seminars to a group of interested Quakers including Irene Pickard. Cary Baynes had accompanied Emma to help with interpretation. Clearly the friendship between Cary and Irene had developed then, perhaps because of Irene's famed flare for hospitality, but just as likely was their shared passionate interest in Jung's ideas. 

Cary Baynes had trained under Jung, but never practices as an analyst. What she did, however, was to translate from German into English three of Jung's works, two of them in collaboration with her then husband, H G Baynes. More importantly, she translated from their German versions, two Chinese classics which Jung has deemed of great psychological importance: The Secret of the Golden Flower and the I Ching. Jung wrote major introductions to both of these translations. 

There can be few homes of the hippy generation of the '60s without a copy of the I Ching. It is almost a requirement of anyone who dabbled in Far Eastern philosophies of life as an antidote to the suffocating narrowness of dogmatic Christianity, or the barrenness and sterility of scientific materialism. The choices on offer to the mid-twentieth century Western mind were bleak. Flirtation with the exotica of the East seemed to offer an escape route.

Irene Pickard's world in Geneva was centred very much on the small, but international, circle of Quakers in the city; among the member of which was Elined Kotschnig, a trainee Jungian analyst and wife of a member of the secretariat of the League of Nations. The analyst under whom Elined was training, Tina Keller-Jenny, was one of Jung's earliest protegees, and was the first Jungian analyst in Geneva. Tina was drawn to the Quaker circle, and spent a lot of time in their company, attending Quaker Meetings on occasions. It was Tina who was instrumental in bringing her friend and analyst Emma Jung to Geneva to give a series of seminars to the Quakers.

I am always impressed how the social networks we form are so fundamental in affecting our lives and transmitting attitudes. It is almost as if to understand who we are we need to understand what networks we are part of. 

The Jungian network and the Quaker network first intersected in Geneva. There have been many interconnections since.  

Nozizwe Charlotte Madlala-Routledge, who now occupies the role first created between the wars by Irene's husband Bertram Pickard, spoke of 'ubuntu' in her 2021 Salter Lecture – of a person being a person through others. "I see you" being an African greeting that acknowledges another person as a representative of their social and familial networks, not just as an isolated individual. More widely, ubuntu is:

A collection of values and practices that people of Africa or of African origin view as making people authentic human beings. While the nuances of these values and practices vary across different ethnic groups, they all point to one thing – an authentic individual human being is part of a larger and more significant relational, communal, societal, environmental and spiritual world.   ( Mugumbate, Jacob Rugare; Chereni, Admire (2020-04-23). "Editorial: Now, the theory of Ubuntu has its space in social work". African Journal of Social Work. 10 (1). ISSN 2409-5605.)

Complete, definitive & long, or selective & short?

What to do? What to do? Masses of material: many documents, papers, articles, speeches, letters, booklets, notes, drafts, etc. Add an associated library of 115 Jungian related titles. In all the product of near seventy years. A pile of stuff that Irene Pickard described as her 'compost heap' (Inward Light, No 59, Spring 1960). How best to process and present this trove? How to put over its significance? Was there indeed any coherence in the collection? Was there a narrative that would bring it together? How to relate its creation to its historical context? How to trace the lines of development within? Who were the main actors? What were the consequences of their very evident interest that brought these items together and preserved them? How does exploring and writing about it fit into public discourse? What discourse? Within which communities?

Opening an archive is rather like discovering a cave system. An unguessed at network of chambers and passageways is explored, and slowly the system is charted. Perhaps cave paintings, or remains are discovered, and natural wonders revealed. A catalogue of what is there might be created, and a guide to how to access it written and detailed maps drawn. Maybe a history of its discovery and exploration is recorded. What was unknown becomes shared and public. It becomes accessible and known, and may even be valued and added to tourist itineraries. It becomes part of the public landscape.

There clearly was a central event of importance: the direct contact in the 1930s between a group of Geneva Quakers and the psychologist Carl Jung and his circle, just at a time when Jung was developing his theories about the fundamental importance to psychological health and wellbeing of what might be termed the 'spiritual' aspect of life. 

There are the antecedents to this event. Then there are the consequents. How much of each belongs in an account? Where to start and end the narrative? The choice of length and depth would very much dictate how much of each to include, as would considerations of who the likely audience might be and which discourses it might contribute to.

The question of purpose comes into all of this. What is my purpose in researching and reporting on the archive? The latter is easily answered: lacking a specific career goal, such as submitting a thesis, or building a reputation – I am post-career, retired, somewhat past such concerns – I have written about the archive and its creators because that is the only way I know of coming to understand what it contains. It has been my way of processing the contents and their relationship to the historical context. I have then felt compelled to share what I have discovered because, other than whatever contribution it might make to the historical record and the discourses around that, I think it will interest others who share my overlapping interests: philosophy, psychology, history, theology, peace-studies, ethics, Quakerism and the love of a good story. As I opened up the archive, that latter became obvious. 

The main protagonists had extraordinary lives. True, that was in part because they lived in what the apocryphal Chinese curse calls 'interesting times'; but most pertinently they proceeded through those times in countercultural ways. Their history is a history of exception not of conformity. Pacifists and peace-makers in a time of war and bellicose posturing; quietly and undogmatically religious in a time of avant-garde secularism and iconoclasm; deeply and self-critically questioning in a time of assertive certainties (patriotism, nationalism, imperialism, fascism, communism); open and receptive to new and emerging ideas and pluralities, whilst remaining connected and even embedded in their reluctantly evolving and somewhat traditionalist faith community. 

To top it all there were the elements of a good yarn: romance, thwarted love, danger, adventure, and the quest of a woman to find her place in a fast changing and disorientating world; and of an otherwise obscure man who became a founding member of the United Nations secretariat and who was instrumental in helping to shape the post Second World War order.

If I were chasing reputation or career, then a short, punchy account would do the job; but there would only be opportunity for one bite of this particular cherry. A definitive account would be unlikely ever to be written if a short, punchy account was chosen; however, a definitive account would take time and would be difficult to find a publisher for. What was in the archive deserved better than a hit and grab raid, as did the lives of the protagonists, so in the end its been the long haul: a definitive account.

Where to begin?

Fitting an archive into its historical context poses a question of where to begin. The obvious answer is 'begin at the beginning'; but where is the beginning? Well, that depends on the audience!

An audience of professional historians might need little in the way of context, especially if they were cultural or intellectual historians (no, not historians who are intellectuals, but historian who study the history of ideas!), or those with an interest in the history of religious movements, or specialists in the history of psychology, or engaged in the history of Peace Studies. 

But then much of the archive was Jungian, so perhaps not historians, but Jungians, or others with an interest in the human mind. 

Then again, Irene Pickard, whose archive it was, was a Quaker – so Quakers? 

How about students of Peace Studies? So much of the why that group of Quakers in Geneva were so deeply interested in what Jung had to say was because of its implications for the peace work they were engaged with.

There were so many overlapping potential circles of interest in the story of the archive and its creators; a case of intersectionality if there ever was.

Even a Quaker audience posed a problem. Many Quakers may not need a lot of context – one might hope so! Although a repeated complaint is how little Quakers know of Quaker history: after all, it is not essential to being a Friend. What matters is what Friends do and how that enriches their lives and the lives of others. The shared space of stillness and silence which engenders so much is why people come, allied with the commitment to living out the truth of what is encountered. That living out often encapsulated as the testimonies of Simplicity, Truth, Equality, Peace and Sustainability. Easily said, but much more complex in the unpacking.

For instance, 'simplicity' means de-ritualising, stripping down to the bear essentials: you, in stillness and silence, sitting with a few others, preferably in a quiet and plain space set aside for the purpose, unburdened by the weight of theology or orchestration by a cleric; but it means so much more too – taking that straightforwardness into daily life. But to do all this – to live it – does not need much, if any, knowledge of Quaker history. Even Quakers might need far more context than might be supposed if they are to appreciate what is in the archive and how that has contributed to shaping modern Quakerism.

To return to the question: who are the likely readers? Clearly the less specialist, the more context would be needed. 

In deciding how to use the fruits of my research I was greatly helped by those wonderfully chance conversations that happen. Friends, family, acquaintances, colleagues – in fact anyone who got chatting to me asking what I was doing these days – got a very, very brief synopsis of what I was researching into. Once they heard, they often said "Oh! I'd like to read about that. Let me know when you have produced something. Sound like it would make a good book."

So, the likely audience seemed to be far wider than professional historian, Jungians, Quakers or other odd assorted individuals; and that helped determine the answer of where to begin: start at the very beginning. Assume anyone reading is simply interested but has no specific background. The sort of person who might mooch through non-fiction titles in a book-store.  

That set the the question of who on earth are the Quakers and how did they come about, as the starting point for the narrative of how and why Irene Pickard's archive came to be created and preserved – but in no more than 1500 words. That meant a lot of simplifying and compacting! And going back to 1652.

No. I tell a lie! To 1612 and the burning at the stake of Bartholomew Legate.

No! That not it. To the Lollards in the mid 14th century.

Actually, to a streak of perversity among the English, Welsh, Scots and Irish, that waves a finger at any would be authority.

Am I fullfilling Godwin's law?

 Jung, the Quakers and Hitler – why the Hitler? He certainly was not there when I started. 

It began with my being invited to look at an archive left to an elderly Friend (yes, the capital is intended, she was a Quaker, born and bred, and an active Member – yes that capital too – of the Society of Friends – yep, and those) who was deeply concerned that her mother's archive might be lost or destroyed when she died. That was exactly what had happened to her mother's friend's archive when she died: it was mistakenly sold along with the household furniture. She had been the first Jungian analyst in Washington D.C., a founder of the Friends Conference on Religion and Psychology, and for many years the editor of Inward Light. Among her papers would have been many fascinating letters exchanged between her, the Jungs (yes, both Carl and Emma) and her own analyst for many years – Tina Keller-Jenny. Posterity lost out there: they're gone – the letters and all – no doubt consigned to some rubbish dump or incinerator.

Needless to say, Irene Pickard's surviving daughter was concerned that the same fate should not happen to her mothers archive. She had inherited them from her sister – herself a psychiatrist – who had inherited them from their mother. They had both understood that the archive was worth preserving, that its contents were certainly unique and irreplaceable, and might well be of value to future researchers. Some of it had already been used as a resource for one post-graduate submission for a higher degree, and another academic had written a paper about their father – Bertram Pickard. His papers, and some of his wife's, had been preserved. They had been gifted to the Swarthmore College Peace Collection. 

And that was where Hitler got in.

It is simply not possible to write about what was in Irene's archive without him. He had dominated their lives for far too many years because Bertram was actively involved in peace work for most of his life, spending a large part of it in the shadow of the rise of Hitler – an experience that almost cost all of his family their lives –and then in the aftermath of the Third Reich, helping to repair the damage. 

I was asked a simple question when I was invited to look at Irene's Jungian archive. Was the archive of value? As it contained heaps of Jungian related material, including correspondence with him, and was a record of how a group of Quakers struggled with and absorbed his ideas, coming in time to disseminate them on both sides of the Atlantic. There was no doubt in my mind it was of value. It contained a remarkable story waiting to be told, especially as it was interwoven with the story of the Pickard's peace work as a background.

I was allowed to have privileged access to the papers before a home was found for them among the Quaker archives at the University of Essex.  

Godwin's law? The longer the discussion, the more likely a Nazi comparison becomes, and with long enough discussions, it is a certainty. So in discussing my researches, it was utterly and completely unavoidable that I would fulfil the law. 

I understand that in some groups this would automatically signal the end of a discussion. Well, that's me stymied then, given what I am writing about.

Jung, Rendel Harris & the Sinaitic Palimpsest

 Sinaitic Palimpsest

I must thank Richard Pickvance (1 October) for knowledgeable correction regarding the relationship of the Sinaitic Palimpsest to possible older lost Latin or Aramaic texts. I came across the story of its discovery, and J Rendel Harris’ part in it, while researching the relationship between Rendel Harris and Irene Pickard, his personal secretary, as part of my Eva Koch scholarship at Woodbrooke. Rendel Harris was profoundly affected by the realisation that the gospel had extra verses added, telling of the resurrection and ascension, between the time the Palimpsest was written and the reign of Constantine, when the gospel reached its current, canonical, form.   

It serves as a reminder that Christianity evolved out of Judaism in the period following the destruction of Jerusalem in 70CE, with competing branches and rival gospels. One particular branch emerging victorious following the First Council of Nicaea in 325CE, as a result of Constantine’s insistence that, as the official religion of the Empire, it should have only one agreed and enforcible doctrine – hence the Nicene Creed.*

Irene Pickard, whose archive I was studying, was much affected by those discoveries about the Sinaitic Palimpsest and by her contact with Carl Jung, whose works suggest that during that process of the evolution of Christianity, the legendary figure of Jesus was woven out of the sayings and doings of one or more itinerant Jewish teachers and given mythological status as the one and only incarnation of the previously tribal, now to be universal, god of the Jews.

 Letters, The Friend, 15th October 2021

 

The gospels

Sorry, David Lockyer (10 September), but the ‘Aramaic originals’ of the gospels remain lost. The Sinaitic Palimpsest is a fourth-century manuscript of a text that can be dated, on linguistic grounds, to around 200 AD. It is an early version, a translation, of the gospels, but the first Latin versions are generally thought to be slightly older. Be that as it may, the gospels were written at least a century earlier, which makes it difficult for this Aramaic text to be a source.

The story of the Palimpsest has been well told by Janet Soskice in Sisters of Sinai, though Friends may quibble with her description of Woodbrooke as ‘a house of training for Quaker lay-ministry’.

Aramaic or Hebrew origins can often be detected in the gospels (see my book First Burn Your Bible). The existence of an Aramaic source, in the form of a collection of the sayings of Jesus, which stands behind the synoptic gospels, has been postulated, and it has been given the name Q (from German Quelle – source). No such document has been found, but that has not stopped scholars trying to recreate it.

Richard Pickvance

Letters, The Friend, 1st October 2021

Aramaic gospels

I was interested in David Lockyer’s reply (10 September) to James Gordon about Aramaic gospels in which he stated that the originals of the gospels are not lost. 

I fear this may be misleading and would like to point out the following.

We do not possess any originals – ‘autographs’ – of the New testament, only copies of a few complete, and very many partial or fragmentary copies, a fragment of a few verses of John’s Gospel, dated early second century AD, and written in Greek.

The Sinaitic palimpsest manuscript containing the four gospels discovered at Saint Catherine’s monastery dates from the late fourth/early fifth century and is written in ‘Old Syriac’. It probably does represent the oldest translation of the gospels into Syriac reaching back to the late second century, and its discovery by two remarkable English Victorian twin sisters is fascinating to read!
The scholarly consensus is that all Syriac manuscripts we possess are translations from the Greek and cannot therefore be ‘originals’, especially since Syriac is a dialect of Eastern Aramaic, different from Western Aramaic containing the Jewish Palestinian Aramaic dialect that Jesus would have spoken. The Sinaitic palimpsest does however have traces of Palestinian dialect.

According to one eminent scholar: ‘The most we can say is that some Palestinian idioms in the Old Syriac gospels may possibly go back to a living tradition of the original gospel story and in particular to the words of Jesus’. (FF Bruce, The Books and the Parchment, fifth edition, Marshall Pickering 1991).

For an acknowledged, authoritative and detailed academic work see also Bruce Metzger, The Text of the New Testament, third edition, Oxford University Press 1992.

Mike Pozner

Letters, The Friend, 8th October 2021

* In response to criticism I have re-writen the highlighted so that it does not read the same as the version published in the Friend. My attention was drawn to the fact that it was Theodosius I who made Christianity the official religion of Rome, Constantine, no matter how pivotal his roll, having only made it his preferred religion.  I had wrongly credited Constantine with making Christianity the official religion of the Empire.  

Sinaitic Palimpsest again

Oh dear. David Lockyer’s letter (15 October) contains an endlessly repeated factoid. Constantine I did not establish Christianity as the official religion of the Roman empire. He simply stopped the persecution of Christians.

Christianity progressed (not without some setbacks) and several more emperors came and went before Theodosius I made Nicene Christianity the state religion. It is the difference between the Edict of Milan in 313 and the Edict of Thessalonica in 380.

Richard Pickvance: Letters - 29 October 2021

One particular branch emerging victorious following the First Council of Nicaea in 325CE, as a result of Constantine’s insistence that, if it was to be his preferred religion for the Empire, it should have only one agreed and enforcible doctrine – hence the Nicene Creed. Christianity finally becoming the official religion of Rome in 380 under Emperor Theodosius I.*

Faint traces in time: Elined Kotschnig

Then there was Dr Esther M Harding, who died only recently in 1971 but made one of the greatest American contributions of all in volume of work and depth of character, although she was English. Her books on various aspects of psychology, literature and history, seen from a feminine point of view, have far-reaching consequences for the nature and wholeness of human awareness. Close beside her was Dr Eleanor Bertine — I speak only of those I knew personally — and many others like Elined Kotschnig and the gallant Martha Jaeger, both Quakers who laboured to carry Jung into the Society of Friends and make those indomitable “children and servants of the light” realise the the clearer the light the more precise the shadow.

Laurens van der Post:  Jung and the Story of Our Time.

One of the privileges of having the luxury of spend time researching an archive, and what you can of the lives of those who created it, is the joy of discovery, and the chance to place what traces are left of their lives into some sort of historical context. Elined Kotschnig was one such discovery. 

There were a few papers by her in Irene Pickard's archive of Jungian materials. They reveal that it was Elined who introduced that small circle of Quakers in Geneva to Jung in 1934, pointing out that he was a 'modern mystic' – modern in the sense that he underpinned his mysticism with his 'scientific' discoveries about the human mind – mystic in that he stressed the importance of deep, fully felt relationship with the the totality of being, not mere intellectual acknowledgement. Over rationalised relationships with life estranged and alienated people, creating the modern malaise he encountered so much in his practice as a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst. Its antidote was discovering deeper, felt, connection. 

Elined was a born in Trefeca, Wales, and was a graduate of the University of Wales and a post graduate student at Cambridge. She married an Austrian, Walter Kotschnig, lived in Geneva, Switzerland, encountered Carl Jung, becoming in time a Jungian therapist, emigrated to the United States where she was one of the founders of the Friends Conference on Religion and Psychology (FCRP) and long time editor of its journal, Inward Light. 

Unfortunately, so much of the records of her life and contribution to psychoanalysis and Quakerism was lost after her death, when her papers were auctioned off by mistake with the furniture from her home. All of Elined's diaries, consultation notes, reflections, draft papers and letters were lost. What has survived are the few articles she wrote for Inward Light, one privately published book, Womanhood in Myth and Life, and the papers she wrote in Geneva which were preserved in Irene Pickard's archive.

There is so little reference to Elined outside Quaker circles that encountering her in van der Post's book was gratifying. She deserves to be much better know. Her synthases of Jungian and Quaker thought, extending them into a life affirming framework, was of great benefit to so many, and not just her patients, as was testified by the only person I met who met her. As a young woman my informant had attended some of the annual FCRP conferences where she had encountered Elined. She found her inspiring and liberating as well as deeply challenging: Elined excelled in confronting people with their shadow – those aspects of ourselves we would rather not see.

Have I found the bridge?

It was tiny, just a single sentence editorial introduction to an article in a monthly magazine produced in 1970 – the Quaker Monthly – but had it finally provided the bridge I had been looking for? Somehow, I felt that two of the people I have been writing about may have had some connection, but how or when was lost in the mists of time: it sometimes amazes me how little trace is left of many people's lives – just faint scatterings, motes of dust – that a historian has perhaps the fortune to find, if he is lucky. 

The rich, the famous and the powerful leave heaps of traces. They have big footprints in history. So, you wish to research into the life of a Churchill or a Orson Welles? No problem. You will have oceans of source material. Such lives are massively recorded. But try to research the lives of more obscure people, people who have not courted publicity, people whose lives are much more private and out of the limelight of media attention, you often have little more than scattered and vanishing vapour trails.

I suspected that Irene Pickard, whose archive had launched my researches, must have had some contact at some time with Pierre Lacout, the author of a much translated Quaker booklet, God is Silence. They had both been members of the small community of Quakers in Switzerland. They had both lived in Geneva, but not at the same time, as far as I could see; Irene had left Geneva in 1955, and Lacout can only be definitely connected with the Swiss community of Quakers sometime in the 1960s, becoming a member of the Lausanne Meeting after he settled near there. He had undertaken a course of psychotherapy in Geneva prior to that. They both shared a common attitude to the centrality of the practice of silence waiting as the wellspring of Quakerism, and the significance of psychoanalysis – especially that of Carl Jung – as an aid to spiritual development. They both had many Swiss Quakers they knew in common. It was a small pond in which they both swam with a reasonably high chance that they had either directly or indirectly connected.

Irene had maintained an active interest and connections with the community of European Quakers in the years following her and her husband's retirement to England. Significantly, they had been involved in the Friends World Committee on Consultation (FWCC) European conferences, both at the planning stage and during the events. We know for sure that they were highly involved in the 1959 conference on Depth Psychology as a help in the Religious Life, and maintained an interest in, and connections with, later European conferences.

The editorial introduction to Lacout's article in the March 1970 edition of Quaker Monthly notes that the article is:

Concluding our Swiss Friend’s address to last years European Conference, in which he told of his passage from Carmelite Monk to Quaker.

Sadly, what I don't know is if Irene was present at the 1969 conference, or had anything to do with it. Irene would have been 78, and was still involved in many Quaker things, especially the Seekers Association. She was also perfectly fluent in French – her years in Geneva having made her bilingual – but was she actually there? Did she ever meet Lacout? Did they correspond about the conference? We shall never know: there is no record. All we do know is that she had a copy of his booklet in her archive. If there was ever a bridge, it has been washed away.

What we do know is that Lacout and Irene were very much in sympathy with each other as to what was at the core of Quaker religious experience, as were so many of the members of the Seekers. Here I quote from a letter written to me in 2013 by Candia Barman, about the Seekers Movement:

The Seeker Movement aims to explore the discipline of waiting on the spirit at the still centre of our lives. We try to deepen our spiritual awareness in a devotional way based on mutual support and sharing with like-minded people. This leads to the search for expressing Quaker witness in the world.
Much of traditional language has become ineffective and diminished in meaning for people today, including ourselves. We seek through exploration and sharing to connect with the mystery at the heart of our world and our lives. We are active in opening ourselves to new light; this may come from modern scientific, theological or artistic endeavours as well as older traditions. We aim to promote a creative interplay amongst the diversity of understandings within the Religious Society of Friends.
This is done through residential and other gatherings, with a particular emphasis on working in small groups. Also correspondence groups on various topics and the movement’s journal.

It compares well with Lacout's description of what is at the heart of the Quaker experience in his 1969 address:

Silent worship, taking for us the place of dogma and creed, gives to us, by its unsullied transparency, infinite possibilities of dialogue. We think in a climate of absolute freedom with no fear, in principle, of condemnation by the Quaker community. Our faith, not being the prisoner of any form or words, can go without reservations towards the truth of every man, whether he be Christian or not, believer or not. We are as attentive to men as to God. Is not a human brother a part of the presence of God? If we dwell in the receptive state of mind which living worship develops in us, we shall not go towards the other man with the proud assurance of one who seeks to make a convert, but with humility of one who goes forward in gratitude for a revelation he is about to receive. To love the other man is to love his difference. Free from dogma we have more chance than others of building bridges between the fragments of our broken world. In this age of confrontation and hostility, let us learn to draw from silence, as from a well, the strength and art and skill of truthful reconciliation. No other religious family grants such liberty to its members.