THE POSTFIGURATIVE CHRIST IN MORLEY CALLAGHAN’S SUCH IS MY BELOVED

Symbolic Christ figures, i.e. characters whose lives to greatly varying extents mir- ror those of Jesus of Nazareth without being fully fledged allegories thereof, were frequently employed as fictional devices in nineteenth- and twentieth-century lite- rature as means of expressing diverse qualities, lessons, mores, and values in the modern world. One esteemed literary artist who made use of this technique was the Canadian liberal Roman Catholic layman Morley Callaghan (1903-1990). In his novel of 1934, Such Is My Beloved , the protagonist, a gifted young priest in a major city, is a latter-day reflection of Christ. In this embodiment, Social Gospel aspects of Christianity come to the fore.

Symbolic Christ figures have long played prominent roles in fiction internationally and perhaps reached the zenith of their popularity in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Not until the 1960s, however, was more than infrequent scholarly analysis undertaken of these characters or their significance defined in terms of literary theory. The emergence of "religion and literature" as a scholarly discipline undoubtedly stimulated both literary scholars and theologians to pay them increased attention during the third quarter of the twentieth century. In one seminal article the eminent South African novelist Alan Paton, whose intensely spiritual Cry, the Beloved Country had appeared in 1948, and Professor Liston Pope analysed various efforts to model modern characters on Jesus Christ and concluded that for several reasons such endeavours were almost invariably foreordained to failure. Twentieth-century authors who sought to create such a character, they pointed out, could no longer either assume that readers were familiar with the rudimentary lineaments of the story of Jesus or that they were not; consequently, they ran the risk of writing arcane plots with little symbolic meaning or boring readers with pedantic allegories. Moreover, Paton and Pope cited the limitations posed by a pre-existing plot

Hale
Callaghan's Such Is My Beloved novels in which the life of Jesus has been wholly secularized: it prefigures the life of a fictional character to such a pronounced extent that it determines the structure of entire episodes (as in The Magic Mountain) or, indeed, of entire novels.
He developed a carefully refined typological framework for the categorisation of such types. 3 The multilingual Ziolkowski cast a broad net and hauled in an abundant catch of European and North American postfigurative examples, but none were caught in the waters of Canadian literature.
Had Ziolkowski examined Morley Callaghan's acclaimed novel of 1934, Such Is My Beloved, he would have discovered a protagonist who fits more completely than nearly any other in Canadian imaginative literature his criteria for identifying symbolic Christ figures. To be sure, the character in question points to an inadequacy in Ziolkowski's definition, which fails to cover modern Christ figures who are not "wholly secularized". Father Stephen Dowling is an unambiguously religious person not only in terms of his vocation but also in his beliefs and behaviour. Possibly owing to the fact that its author was Canadian (although it was initially published in New York), Such Is My Beloved has never received an appropriate portion of international scholarly attention, a fate shared by most other literary works conceived in Canada, regardless of their artistic merit. Even in his native land the Callaghan's eminence as a writer of fiction was not greatly appreciated until after his death in 1990. A few critics had grasped his importance before then, however, not least with regard to the spiritual dimensions of his craft. Martin Seymour-Smith, for instance, went so far in 1980 as to profess that Callaghan, perhaps more than any other English-language writer of the century, has a sense of what Christianity means in a post-Christian era. 4 That religious motifs occupy a central place in Callaghan's novels has been acknowledged since the 1930s. He was unabashedly a writer of first-rate "Catholic novels" shortly before two of his denominational decreased, partly because the upward socio-economic mobility of previous parishioners has prompted them to flee to suburban areas, but also because of the economic exigencies caused by the Great Depression of the 1930s. The wealthiest remaining family are the Robisons, whose pater familias is a successful lawyer and who are driven to Mass every Sunday in a chauffeured automobile and thus loom socially far above their local co-religionists. The plot unfolds immediately after what Mark McGowan has analysed as a crucial period when Anglophone Roman Catholics had become a permanent and rapidly growing minority on the increasingly pluralistic religious landscape of Canada and through their steadily more visible presence were putting to rest the stereotype that the Catholicism there was an almost exclusively French affair. 8 In this bleak environment, Father Dowling has begun his ministry, somehow being assigned to a place on the cathedral staff immediately following completion of his theological studies. He has come far from his own humble origins in an undisclosed "country town up around the lakes" where his widowed mother and sole brother still reside. This remnant of Father Dowling's family of origin has sacrificed economically to support him at seminary, and in their pride they dote on him during his frequent visits home. In contrast to Jesus of Nazareth, he is not without honour at those times, when these two relatives parade him before their fellow citizens and his beaming mother "strutted around the main street and in the stores with her chest thrown out looking and talking like a bishop" (p. 44).
At no time, however, does the conscientious Father Dowling assume an attitude of social superiority there or in the urban parish. To be sure, he is not completely free of thoughts which reveal a desire for the congregation to be socially acceptable. He is particularly encouraged by the conspicuous presence of James Robison, accompanied by his wife and daughters, at Mass and experiences a small "glow of pride, knowing that no finer, more aristocratic, more devout people were coming Her rejoinder to his protest that "millions" of girls have "decent jobs" is terse and blunt: "There are more girls than jobs. What are you going to do with the girls left over?" Midge adds that even though she and Ronnie are nearly starving, their affliction is not transforming them into "tin saints". This conversation, in which the French-Canadian girl speaks "with all the fury of an indignant, respectable woman" while nonetheless evincing "strange humility" is an epiphany for Father Dowling. He realises that his preconceived notions about free will were not wellfounded: Somehow, he himself had always thought of vice as yielding to the delights of the flesh, as warmth and good soft living and laziness, but as he looked around this room and at these angry girls he felt close to a dreadful poverty that was without any dignity (pp. 39-40).
Consequently, the focal point of protagonist's efforts shifts from keeping Ronnie and Midge off the streets to finding them secure legal, gainful employment. Apparently not well-connected in the world outside his parish, he turns to his flock in his search. This quest yields a harvest of conflicts and exposes hypocrisy which dominates much of the remainder of the plot. Juxtaposing the young prostitutes with the wealthy Robisons, Callaghan exposes the insincerity of that churchgoing couple. Initially Father Dowling approaches James Robison in the hope of exploiting his contacts to secure employment for Midge and Ronnie, an endeavour which proves fruitless. Subsequently, he takes the prostitutes to the Robison mansion, where their presence scandalises the lawyer's wife. She makes little effort to veil her displeasure at their presence in her home, and Midge and Ronnie, feeling entirely uncomfortable about their situation, leave the premises. The ensuing exchange between Mrs. Robison and Father Dowling lays bare both their contrasting perceptions of the matter and the Christian ethical implications thereof. "I must say, Father, I don't thank you for bring street walkers into my house," she informs him icily, adding that she finds his effrontery "too scandalous to be believed". Returning the favour, the young cleric professes, "And I've been more scandalized in this house to-night than I've ever been in my life." Revealing her pre- what he actually was thinking of as he looked at the window so gloomily, was not of the priest but of a charity campaign he was about to launch throughout the city, and he was imagining the result of a scandal that would follow if a priest were implicated with two prostitutes (pp. 198-199).
Accordingly, he follows Robison's lead and adopts a defensive posture in order to obviate the eventuality of a scandal. "Such a state of affairs as you outline can't be allowed to continue, of course," Bishop Foley declares. "Heaven only knows what might happen" (pp. 198-200). Callaghan has thus completed the preparation for the destruction of his protagonist, against whom the power of conservative society as well as that of the religious structure are arrayed in tandem.
Again the head of the diocese is portrayed as a man wrestling with himself. Bishop Foley recalls his years as a neophyte priest, particularly his zeal for ministry and the happiness he had enjoyed at that time. This senior cleric catches himself from drifting too far in what he regards as the direction of subjective sentimentality and decides to act with resolve: "Don't I believe in my own actions?" he asks himself. I know he was giving scandal. There was nothing else to do. He must be sent away, probably to a monastery. I don't have to go over all that again (p. 269).
In the end there is no monastic episode, however. Neither is there a crucifixion or other death of the protagonist, and Callaghan does not attempt to present anything remotely analogous to a resurrection. Instead, setting a more modest goal for the conclusion of his study of Father Dowling as a Christ-like priest, he places him into a mental hospital. There the doctors can find "nothing wrong with him" (p. 283).
On the last two pages of the narrative, Father Dowling utters words and thinks thoughts unmistakably reminiscent of those spoken by Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and on Calvary.

BIBLICAL PRECEDENTS OF THE PROSTITUTE IMAGE
In his creation of prostitutes as central characters in Such Is My Beloved, Callaghan alluded to a profession to which repeated if not particularly frequent reference is made in both the Old and New Testaments, where such people of both genders and other individuals whose standards of sexual morality are criticised or otherwise portrayed negatively. Among the passages from the Hebrew Scriptures he may have had in mind is Hosea 1:2 and 2:14-3:5, in which that eighthcentury B.C. prophet referred to his spouse Gomer as "a wife of whoredom" and drew an analogy between their relationship and the state of the covenant between Israel and God. More probably, however, Callaghan was alluding to such Gospel texts as Luke 7:36-50, in which a woman identified solely as a "sinner" anoints Jesus's feet while he is a guest in the house of a Pharisee and otherwise treats him more respectfully than does his host and is consequently forgiven of her sins. It is similarly conceivable that Callaghan was thinking of Matthew 21:31, where Jesus informs temple priests who challenge his authority, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you." In these and other Biblical texts, prostitution is nowhere condoned; indeed, in I Corinthians 6:9-10 Paul emphasises that people who are guilty of sexual misconduct will not inherit the kingdom of God, but its practitioners are not placed out-42 Hale Callaghan's Such Is My Beloved Christian ethics in a rapidly industrialising society often accompanied by challenges to the severe stratification which characterised the ordering thereof. Callaghan was a Liberal on the landscape of Canadian politics, and he sought early on to use his fiction as a vehicle for conveying his message that Christianity has a duty to raise a prophetic voice against economic exploitation. In Such Is My Beloved, Father Dowling serves as his spokesman in this regard, quietly raising a prophetic voice against what he gradually perceives is economic injustice and its debilitating impact on human lives and moral standards. Callaghan introduces another figure into the narrative to provide a voice which further highlights the seriousness of the social dilemma and, perhaps, to underscore the threat of Marxism playing a greater rôle if the church failed to raise a prophetic voice. Charlie Stewart, a medical student with radical political and economic views but no conventional religious beliefs, is a friend of Father Dowling, who appreciates his opportunities to speak casually with someone quite divorced from the life of the church and shielded from the eyes of his parishioners. Their late-night conversations about Karl Marx, guild-based medieval European society, and "the general progress of the race toward the city of God" provide "many" themes for the priest's sermons, although how he incorporates them homiletically is not stated. When in monetary need, he gets more help from his atheist friend than from members of his parish (pp. 83-85). Stewart represents an extreme position of social determinism devoid of religious influences. "In the perfectly organized state there would be no street walkers," he insists in a discussion with Father Dowling.
If the state has a proper control of the means of production and the means of livelihood, it's never necessary for a woman to go on the streets. No woman of her own accord would ever do such work.
Stewart immediately acknowledges that such a scenario is not necessarily attainable, however, and qualifies his statement: But if in the ideal state there were still women who were street walkers out of laziness or a refusal to work steadily then they would be kicked out or interned somewhere for laziness, or as non-producers. Then they'd have to work or starve (pp. 253-254).

Hale
Callaghan's Such Is My Beloved More explicitly, though in a way which conspicuously deviates from the main thrust of the plot, Callaghan describes how Father Dowling ministers to an Italian-Canadian family which has grown to unmanageable proportions. This is set up in a previous chapter when the priest overhears segments of a conversation that takes place on the street below his residence. An unemployed man relates how he was told to accept a fourth reduction in his salary but chose to leave his job after his employer rejected his protest that he had a wife and three children to support. The words of an unidentified despairing woman then flash through Father Dowling's memory: Yes, I want to be a Catholic but I don't want to have any more kids and the priest says you can't practice birth control and be a Catholic, so you'll have to leave the church (p. 187).
Not long thereafter, with Ronnie and Midge having followed a magistrate's order to leave the city, Father Dowling visits the Canzano family in "a blind alley, in a row of yellow roughcast cottages under one long sagging roof". Mrs. Canzano has just given birth to her twelfth child, an event which has brought her no joy. "I did not want to see the child when they brought it to me," she confesses to him.
Kids, kids, kids, they just keep coming and I don't know why. It would be different if I knew why. You understand, Father? But nobody knows why.
Her apparently unemployed husband is even more bitter and bluntly rejects the priest's assurance that God had blessed him with another child. "God is not good to do such a thing," declares this impoverished Italian. In response to Father Dowling's admonition not to question divine will, Canzano professes, "I believe in God, but he is not good. You know that. ... There is nothing left but despair" (pp. 245-247). The priest soon shares his pessimism, at least in worldly terms. Observing the ragamuffin boys and girls in the street, he recalls that two of the girls in the Canzano family appeared to be mentally retarded.
Some of the children of that man were not right wise. I could see it in their faces," he thought. "More children while the woman grows more wretched and the man full of despair. God help them. It's inevitable that some of those girls go on the streets and become far worse than Ronnie and Midge.
them. The wine follows the sandwiches; it, too, represents sacramental grace. Callaghan could hardly have been much less subtle: Father Dowling "poured the wine for them with a special graciousness, as if he were the host at a banquet." He does not preach as such to Ronnie and Midge or quote Bible verses, but he nevertheless uses this occasion to talk to them about savory dishes he had tasted, about recipes he knew by heart, about cheese and wines that had "a mysticism all their own".
Father Dowling's strategy of bringing the church to these fallen young women who were not coming to the church has some effect. They want him to continue to communicate his message to them (pp. 215-216).
It must again be pointed out that Such Is My Beloved is not an allegorical narration of the ministry of Jesus Christ. For all the obviously constructed similarities between this episode at the hotel and the Last Supper and the Eucharist, there are crucial differences. One is the absence of the High Priestly Prayer. Another is the absence of any reference to the betrayal. Thirdly, there is no mandate to wash one another's feet. This is, after all, a novel about the application of Christianity in twentieth-century Toronto, not an account of its origins in first-century Jerusalem.

CONCLUSION
That Callaghan constructed Father Dowling as at least a partial Christ figure seems beyond dispute. Such elements in the plot as the outcome for the protagonist and the meal he shares with Midge and Ronnie offer indisputable evidence of this. Moreover, when one reads Such Is My Beloved against the backdrop of the author's liberal religious and political views, it is apparent that he created his heroic priest partly in his own reformist image. Father Dowling is to a noteworthy extent interested in the flaws he observes in the urban social fabric, although his preoccupation with his immediate clerical duties prevents him from pursuing a broader reform agenda. Doctrinally, this priest, like Callaghan, is not entirely on the same wavelength as Catholic orthodoxy, and he clearly has nascent misgivings about its leadership on the diocesan level, but he unswervingly remains within the Church of