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Good morning. A famous actor went up to a woman at a party. ‘Tom!’ the woman said, with a hug of recognition. The actor responded, ‘Were we in something together?’ Devastated, the woman replied, ‘We used to be married.’

Today delivery of the Government’s letter will trigger Article 50 and begin negotiations to leave the European Union. One metaphor that keeps recurring is the language of divorce.

The story of the actor and his former wife reveals our society’s complex feelings about divorce. There’s a rational explanation for the fragility of marriage today. People live much longer, their hopes for fulfilment are much greater. Much of the cultural scaffolding that used to support marriage has been dismantled. When a friend says to us, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve tried, really I have, but I just can’t do it anymore,’ how often do we find ourselves saying, ‘Yes you can?’ A lot less, I’d imagine, than people did 40 years ago.

There’s no question that violent marriages are a living hell, betrayal may be devastating, and former spouses can make us unspeakably angry. One person said, ‘Divorce is like being in a car crash every day for two years.’ But the famous actor’s story displays a greater nightmare: imagine giving your body and soul to another person, walking beside them in sunshine and rain – and then finding that they’d completely forgotten you. It’s hard to think of a more deflating experience for one’s trust in the power of human relationship.

There’s a fantasy that if you took emotion out of things, they’d all run smoothly. It’s a bit like the idea that if you eradicated religion, the world would suddenly be safe. You can’t take love out of the world, and as long as there’s love, people will want to discover the depths of being together, and sometimes that being together will go irretrievably wrong, and then you have divorce. The Christian faith isn’t that if you love, everything will be all right. It’s that death and failure are real, but that love can bring the dawn of resurrection out of even the bleakest night.

Most couples discover that divorce turns out not to be the end of a relationship – just the beginning of a different kind of arrangement where you have to find a way to discuss children and property across a chasm of mistrust that may eventually become respect and dignity.

And that’s the kind of relationship Britain is starting out on today. We’d all like to live our lives amid perfect relationships of love and trust and understanding. But for most people, life is significantly made up of finding ways to speak across hurt and division and failure. There’s wisdom there too. Right now, that’s the wisdom we need most of all.

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