conscience. In particular in the field of marriage and divorce, over which they had jurisdiction before 1857, they attempted to canvas the intricacies of the human spirit, and adjudicate on such matters as forgiveness and reconciliation. Up until 1968, our divorce law represented the rigour of ecclesiastical law mitigated by the relief afforded to wronged spouses by a compassionate Parliament; for though the ecclesiastical courts allowed judicial separation and therefore gave a measure of protection, there was no divorce, so there could be no remarriage. The divorce law which resulted was not exactly an ornament to the legal system, but it was not as cruel as a prohibition on divorce must have been.
Now no compassionate person could hear the sort of allegations described in Chapter 24, and not want to give a measure of protection, if the allegations appeared to be true. This protection the ecclesiastical courts gave. But people do make mistakes, they do betray; and it seems to me hard to apply a counsel of perfection to a broken marriage, so as to forbid the injured spouse, the victim of a fallen world, trying again with somebody else. I would find it quite unconvincing to clasp my hands and say, “What God has joined, let not man put asunder”. Besides the simple truth is that God did not join most of them; they joined themselves. I can understand someone applying a counsel of perfection to himself; but not to other people. I can understand, for instance, a man trying to reconcile God and a wife in his own life, which is a counsel of perfection; but not his demanding that everyone does it. However the ecclesiastical courts found it convenient to demand perfection of other people by forbidding remarriage; but they themselves never solved the problem of a man reconciling God and a wife, which they ought to have guessed was the solution to the whole problem of disharmony. Had they done so, we should all have heard about it. It has been a theological problem for 2000 years; had someone solved it, it…