We were delighted by the Australian musical My Brilliant Career—based on the original book by Miles Franklin (1901) and then a book and lyrics by Sheridan Harbridge and Dean Bryant. Bryant also wrote the music, with Matthew Frank.
The production is astonishing, telling the story of an ambitious but very poor young woman, Sybylla, intent upon a career as an artist, even though she has no opportunities and cannot even define for herself what it is she will do in this ‘brilliant career’.
Her family falls into debt and she is obliged to go to work as a governess for the exceptionally uncouth family to whom the debt is owed, the M’Swats. Sybylla has a terrible time, lonely, ostracised, and achieving almost nothing.
When the eldest son of the family (Peter) comes home after a time away, Sybylla encounters a person of obvious talent—yet he is content with his life in what she considers a dead end. It is in this encounter, however, that I noticed some exceptional insight. He clearly understands her and calls out what he sees as her pride and self-centredness. He says these words to her, describing the life of his own family:
It’s an honest life. We’re grateful for what God has given us.
You should be too. You’re alive aren’t you?
This absolute gem is largely lost in the story as a whole and is not part of the major, feminist reading of the story. But I think it offers something fundamental to us all. That is the gift that is life.
We can all live an honest life, grateful for the sheer gift of life itself. For sure, there is much we want to make of this life. Many of us know the frustrations Sybylla encounters, and none of that is to be discounted. Not at all.
Yet, there is something for which we can all be grateful and in this something is the beginning of a fresh start, a discovery of community where we did not see any, of hope towards at least some fulfilment.
The Apostle Paul suggested we might ‘in everything give thanks’. This does not mean, as some misguided people have suggested, that we should be glad of and just put up with everything—from injustice to illness, alienation and abuse.
No, it means that we can begin with the absolute basics: we are alive, and we can think about what we might do and be, and how we might do that better, together. That’s a good beginning, and also a basis for ending this year in some level of thankfulness.