L'Arpeggiata

Fr Blake has recently been delighting us with pictures and clips of lutes and lutenists. Well, I've long been meaning to post some videos of one of my favourite early music groups - Christina Pluhar's L'Arpeggiata. The first clip is a seventeenth century madrigal, Bastiao, featuring the famous King's Singers:

The second is a Tarantella dance composed by the Jesuit polymath, Fr Athanasius Kircher, most noted for his scientific work:

And finally a lively Jacaras:

Who says 'old' music is boring?

Recusant Messenger

Ad Universalis Ecclesiae is an interesting new blog by Dr Simon Johnson, 'dedicated to bringing those with an interest in English Catholic History, the English Catholic Diaspora and the current state of the English Catholic church together.' The author is currently working in conjunction with the bishops to promote the history of the English Catholic institutions overseas (resulting from the recusant 'diaspora') and to turn his doctoral thesis on the English College, Lisbon into a book.

The 'Second Spring' in Leicestershire

I visited a priest friend in the East Midlands today. His parish couldn't be more different from a London one - a large geographical area, a charming little church in one of his 18 villages, a close-knit congregation where most people know each other by name and (most strikingly) a presbytery where the phone and doorbell rarely sounds!

We had a most enjoyable drive around some of the local Catholic sites, especially in the Charnwood area which owes many of its foundations to the vision of a nineteenth century convert, Ambrose Phillipps de Lisle. He was a friend of Pugin and a great patron of the Trappists and the Rosminians. His home was Grace Dieu Manor, built in the 1830s, enlarged by Pugin and now a school run by the Rosminians. The grounds were most impressive and are used by the diocese of Nottingham for an annual Rosary Rally:

Grace Dieu served as the centre of Catholicism in the area and the great Rosminian missioner, Fr Luigi Gentili, lived here for a time, as he toured the surrounding villages and established missions. One of these was erected at nearby Shepshed and Gentili's chapel can still be seen (though it is now a private house):

In the grounds of Grace Dieu are the ruins of a medieval priory of Augustinian Canonesses, founded 1235-41 and referred to as 'the church of the Holy Trinity of the Grace of God [Grace Dieu] at Belton dedicated to God and St Mary.'
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The ruins inspired Wordsworth to write:

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound,
Rugged and high, of Charnwood’s forest ground,
Stand yet, but, Stranger, hidden from thy view
The ivied ruins of forlorn Grace Dieu,
Erst a religious House, which day and night
With hymns resounded and the chanted rite

Grace Dieu Priory is supposedly haunted by a 'White Lady,' one of the nuns, but she seems to have been otherwise occupied for we only saw a group of friendly cyclists.

Ratcliffe was the next stop - built by Pugin as a novitiate and school for the Rosminians. It is still in the hands of the Institute of Charity and a successful independent school (old boys include one of our auxiliaries, Bishop John Arnold):

The key attraction for me was the little cemetery:


Here, in the corner, are the tombs of Fr William Lockhart and his mother Martha, respectively the first parish priest and benefactor of my current parish. I'm putting together a short life of Fr Lockhart and will be travelling to the Rosminian Archive in Stresa at the end of the month:
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St Lucius, King of Britain

I’ve always been fascinated by the legend of a mysterious British King, St Lucius, who supposedly wrote to Pope St Eleutherius (above) in the late 17os to request baptism. Missionaries were dutifully sent and the King subsequently founded several churches, including a ‘Cathedral’ in London on the site of St Peter-upon-Cornhill.

St Bede writes: ‘while the holy Eleutherius ruled the Roman Church, Lucius, a British King, sent him a letter, asking to be made a Christian by his direction. This pious request was quickly granted, and the Britons received the Faith and held it peacefully in all its purity and fullness until the time of the Emperor Diocletian.’ The King later abdicated and travelled to Switzerland as a missionary, where he won a martyr’s crown. His shrine can still be found at Chur.

Thus states the legend. In 1904 the story was ‘deconstructed’ by the German historian Carl Gustav Adolph von Harnack, who suggested that St Lucius had been mixed up with Lucius Abgar IX (179-214), King of Edessa and a contemporary of St Eleutherius. The confusion may have resulted when the Edessian fortress of Birtha was latinised into Britium Edessenorum. In the hands of a medieval copyist, Britio may have become Britannio. This theory seems to have been accepted almost universally over the last 100 years.

But the archaeologist, David J. Knight, has just written a whole book about the legend of King Lucius of Britain. It arrived in the post yesterday and the few chapters I’ve managed to read convincingly question Harnack’s deconstructive theory and opens the way to proposing that St Lucius actually did exist!

One of the many interesting details – especially for those in the Archdiocese of Westminster – is the traditional list of the ‘Archbishops of London’ between the reign of St Lucius and the coming of St Mellitus, the bishop of London appointed after the mission of St Augustine of Canterbury. There would be no more Catholic Archbishops in London until 1850…

Thean (c.179-185)
Eluanus
Cadar
Obinus
Conan
Paludius
Stephen (martyr, +17 September 304)
Augulus (martyr, +7 September 305)
Iltutus Restitutus (attended the Council of Arles, 314)
Dedwin
Thedred
Hilary (c.367)
Fastidius (c. 431)
Guidelium (c.410)
Vodinus (martyr, +23 July 436)
Theanus (c. 587)

Note the three martyrs, SS Stephen, Augulus and Vodinus, now totally forgotten. These cults were probably discouraged by St Augustine, who preferred the ancient Roman martyrs and arranged for their relics to be brought to England to replace those of the more dubious British saints.

If you’re interested in the origins of Christianity in this country, then you’ll find Knight’s book very interesting…

My Dickensian Great-Grandfather

Apologies, I haven't posted for ages - as other bloggers will know, the longer you leave between posts the harder it is to get round to posting anything. It's been a busy time but things are gradually winding down for the summer and today I had my first proper day-off (i.e. actually away from the presbytery) for several weeks.

I had a wonderfully domestic day with my parents - celebrating Mass, mowing the lawn and writing up some notes my mother had scribbled about her parents, both of whom died in the 1950s and therefore long before my time. I thought it would be good to preserve these memories for posterity.

It was particularly interesting to find out more about my great-grandfather, Charles Grigsby. All I knew about him was that he was quite a character (and I suspect a bit of a rogue), wrote a few books about Charles Dickens (using the pen name 'Edwin Charles') and apparently knew both Belloc and Chesterton. I thought that this last detail was no more than dubious family legend but I discovered today - much to my excitement - that Chesterton actually provided the 'Foreword' to my great-grandfather's second book, Some Dickens Women, which I quickly ordered via the internet. Moreover, it seems that Ronald Knox gave the book a favourable review, though he lamented that Mary the housemaid (from the Pickwick Papers) had not been given a place amongst the other Dickensian characters.

The war correspondent and novelist Sir Philip Gibbs, wrote the ‘Foreword’ to the sequel, Some Dickens Men, and referred to ‘Edwin Charles’ as ‘an old friend of mine in the Street of Adventure [i.e. Fleet Street]. He is a regular Dickens character, steeped in the works of that master as few living Englishmen, and touched not a little with the best quality, the noble optimism in adversity, of Mr Micawber himself.’ Great Grandpa confessed that ‘from my boyhood’s days, Dickens has been my constant companion, my consolation and my delight. My love for him is part of my inmost self and will continue to be so till the Author of all things shall write “finis” to my book of life.’

He died in 1950, aged 88, and his obituary in the Ilford Recorder reported that ‘Mr Grigsby added considerably to the colour and spice of life which he enjoyed to the full’ and that ‘he was a fine speaker, using all the arts of wit and poise and at times jamming his famous monocle in his eye to crush an interrupter with a glare.’ Furthermore, ‘his silver hair and handsome face and his courtly manners made him the most distinguished figure in any company.’

Hmmm, I must find out more about him!

400th Anniversary of a Martyrdom

Today is the 400th anniversary of the martyrdom of St Thomas Garnet, who suffered at Tyburn on 23 June 1608. On Saturday evening I celebrated Mass at Tyburn Convent for those who had made the Martyrs' Walk (organised by Miles Jesu and led by Joanna Bogle) and I took the opportunity to honour St Thomas Garnet in the homily:

Deep below the streets that surround us lies the river Tyburn, a tributary of the Thames that gave its name to a small village on this spot and the infamous gallows (or ‘Tyburn Tree’) that served the capital as a place of execution between the twelfth and eighteenth centuries. Like London’s other lost rivers, the Tyburn has long since been hidden underground and largely forgotten – although the Mayor of London has recently proposed raising some of these waterways once again to the surface.

By making the Martyrs’ Walk today, we have raised up to the surface of our memories the many Catholics who suffered here and in other parts of London and the country. We not only remember their brave witness but are fully confident that the blood of the martyrs provides us with a channel – indeed a river – of grace and intercession. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.

I'd like to especially recall one of the Tyburn martyrs, the Jesuit St Thomas Garnet, the 400th anniversary of whose death we celebrate on Monday (23rd June).

The saint was born in Southwark around 1575 and was the nephew of Henry Garnet, the famous Superior of the English Jesuits at the time of the Gunpowder Plot. After being educated at a grammar school in Horsham, St Thomas Garnet went overseas to continue his education, like so many other Catholics of the day: he first spent time at the Jesuit college of St Omers. This institution later moved to Stonyhurst and Garnet is considered its first martyr (or protomartyr). Garnet then proceeded to the English College at Vallodolid, although his arrival there became quite an adventure. The ship that was going to take him across the Channel was delayed by bad weather and the young man was discovered hiding in the hold when the vessel was searched by the authorities, who always kept an eye open for young Catholics travelling overseas. He was taken to London for interrogation but eventually managed to escape.

Garnet’s life was marked by several periods of imprisonment. As a priest, he worked for a time in Warwickshire but was arrested at the time of the Gunpowder Plot, partly in the hope that he would give information concerning his uncle, Henry Garnet, who was eventually executed for his alleged involvement in the conspiracy. St Thomas Garnet was kept at the Tower in close confinement for the best part of a year and the fact that he had to lie on the bare floor during the winter led to the development of rheumatism. However, he was released in July 1606 and banished to the continent on pain of death. In Flanders he entered the Jesuit novitiate and returned to England the following year. After only six weeks of ministry, he was betrayed by an apostate priest called Rouse and arrested. He was found guilty of being a Catholic priest and remaining in England illegally – the main evidence for his Priesthood being a piece of graffiti he had supposedly added to the walls of his prison cell, reading: Thomas Garnet, Priest. He was quickly sentenced to death but professed that he was the happiest man alive and, when someone suggested that he might have an opportunity to escape, he spoke of an interior voice that said quite clearly: Noli fugere, Don’t run away. And so St Thomas Garnet was put to death at Tyburn on 23rd June 1608, aged 34.

Noli fugere, Don’t run away! We often think of the English Martyrs – in fact, of most saints – as flawless heroes who never wavered in their faith and in their actions. They were heroes most certainly but a large part of their heroism was the way that grace triumphed despite our frail human nature. The temptation to run away, to escape the terrible death of hanging, drawing and quartering would have been a natural human reaction for Garnet and the other martyrs. So too would be the temptation to reach a compromise or accept the offers that were normally made promising clemency and even preferment in return for conformity in matters of faith. The martyrs probably lay awake in their prisons at night struggling with these temptations and fears. But the English Martyrs realised that God’s truth was more important than their personal well-being and safety. They lived and died according to the words of our Gospel: ‘do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul: fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell.’ The martyrs were prepared to go through great bodily suffering if it meant the preservation of the spirit.

Noli fugere, Don’t run away! Garnet’s words echo down to us 400 years later. It’s unlikely that we’ll win a martyrs crown in the same way as him but we do face the lesser martyrdom of facing indifference, secularism, relativism and ridicule. The Christian Life involves following Our Lord and even being hated in His Name. Practising as a Catholic in the twenty-first century involves the same struggle with the temptation to compromise and conform as it did in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Today we ask St Thomas Garnet and all the English Martyrs for their intercession: that we will be steadfast in our Faith and not compromise our principles even (and especially) when they are unpopular; to stand by the Rock of Peter and not be swept up by stormy waters; to realise that the only thing to be feared is losing God – for whoever loses Him loses everything; to carry the cross of Christ and not be tempted by an easier life. Let the words of St Thomas Garnet resound in our hearts today: Noli fugere, Don’t run away!

St Thomas' Inspiration?

During my lunchbreak at the archives today I found a wonderful new food store and, feeling rather adventurous, bought some Dandelion and Burdock, a traditional British soft drink, for my lunch. According to Wikipedia, this drink (despite its reputed 'British-ness') is linked to a rather interesting legend:

St Thomas Aquinas, after praying for inspiration for a full night, walked from his place of prayer straight into the countryside and, "trusting in God to provide", concocted the drink from the first plants he encountered. It was this drink that aided his concentration when seeking to formulate his theological arguments that ultimately culminated in the Summa Theologica.

So if this blog suddenly becomes a work of theological genius, you'll know why...

A Catholic Priest on Jim'll Fix It

I haven't posted for some time and the easy way to remedy this is to post a charming video that I found completely accidentally on You Tube:

As a child I remember watching Jim'll Fix It, in which Jimmy Savile tried to fulfil the ambitions of viewers. Sir Jimmy is a devout Catholic, as you can see from the 'K.C.S.G.' that appears after his name in the end credits. If you don't want to listen to the pipes, forward to 4:39 and see the 'indulgenced' Jim'll Fix It medal. It's also amazing how dated this 1984 footage now seems - a lost world?

I've been thinking about bagpipes recently since a piper occasionally uses our hall for rehearsals. As a teenager I took bagpipe lessons and I still have a set, though I haven't touched them since piping in the Scots College when they attended a festal dinner at the Venerable English College, Rome in 2001. But they might come in useful in the parish for weddings, funerals and the New Year...

I Am 5

Today I celebrate my fifth birthday as a priest - a mere drop in the ocean compared to the 77 years of Canon Fuller (who I visited on Monday) but still a personal landmark, especially since it means graduating from the diocesan 'Under 5s' meetings for priests!

It is the Feast of Our Lady, Help of Christians, and I'll be celebrating a Mass of Thanksgiving later this morning. This evening the Young Adults group are coming for a small drinks party, so hopefully the good weather will last before the Bank Holiday downpour.

Te Deum laudamus: te Dominum confitemur!

Joys and Sorrows

Often a day in the life of a parish presents you with extreme highs and lows. Today has been one such day. Early this morning I celebrated a Funeral for a 28 week year-old baby who died in her mother's womb after several months of struggle. It was the first time in my five years of Priesthood that I have been asked to do this and the grief of the occasion was very tangible. It was also very moving to remind people that, despite the age of the baby and the tiny size of the coffin, this was a human person, just as precious in the eyes of God as any of us - it was doubly appropriate to do this after the anti-life legislation passed this week by Parliament. Please say a prayer for little Cristiana and her parents.

Then, on returning from Enfield Cemetery, it was time to mark the traditional Feast of Corpus Christi at our Primary School with a procession and benediction. We started in the playground, where an altar had been set up, and processed to the school hall, singing hymns. We were led there by our First Communion candidates, who wore their suits and dress - some of them scattered petals.

In the hall, we listened to a powerful sermon from Fr Albert, the Nigerian chaplain - seen here carrying the frame for the canopy to the school:

Then it was time for Benediction. This didn't quite go to plan because when I turned round to beckon the pupil who was holding the boat, I discovered that he had just vomitted all over it - so no incensation was possible during the Tantum ergo! Still, as one of the other priests pointed out, it made the occasion even more 'incarnational'!!!

A Priest for 77 Years

On Monday I visited Canon Reginald C. Fuller to look at some of his personal papers, which he is giving to the diocesan archive. It was a privilege to meet him for, remarkaby, he was ordained by Francis Cardinal Bourne in 1931, studied in Mussolini's Rome and remembers meeting Pius XI. He has been a priest for 77 years - and still counting. He was a noted Biblical scholar in his day (not to be confused with the late Reginald H. Fuller, a Protestant Biblicist) and co-edited the RSV version. Canon Fuller turns 100 this September, so hopefully there will be a huge party at Nazareth House!

The Walsingham Project

Raymond de Sousa (of EWTN-fame) has sent me some info regarding the 'Walsingham Project,' which I hadn't heard of before but which is organising a Prayer Crusade for the Conversion of England in the face of De-Christianization. This stands in continuity with the Crusade of Prayer for the Conversion of England started by the Passionist, Ven. Ignatius Spencer, nearly 170 years ago.




They have also issued a new edition of Henry VIII's Defence of the Seven Sacraments, written in his younger days with the help of St Thomas More, which earned him the title 'Defender of thre Faith.' You can buy it here.

The 'Walsingham Project' deserves to be supported. For further information, check out Raymond's website.

A Sea Symphony

It's been a noisy evening - as I sit at my desk I can hear both the Irish singer crooning away in the parish club and the Nigerians making their novena for Pentecost (there's a lot of 'congregational participation' at the moment and this is upsetting the presbytery dogs) - and, to top it all, I've just returned from a performance of Vaughan-Williams' Sea Symphony by the Hackney Singers (of which a parishioner is a member).

They did an excellent job, as did the Essex-based Forest Philharmonic Orchestra (which is of professional quality). I had a good view of the triangle-player, who was kept surprisingly busy during the 70 minute piece. Call me a cultural philistine but I'm not really into the big choral set pieces of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, although the texts used by the choir certainly contained a searching meditation on the journey through life, which are just like the storms and calm of the sea.

The concert was held at the huge 1790s church of St John-at-Hackney - built for a congregation of 2,000 but now attracting a congregation of 60 or 70 (judging from the newsletter). It replaced the medieval church (only the sixteenth century tower remains), which has always fascinated me because the nephew of John XXII, Cardinal Gauscelin Jean d'Euse, held amongst many other posts that of Rector of Hackney (1328-34) - a rather unexpected link between Hackney and papal Avignon!

In the parish newsletter there was an interesting review of a book written by a more recent Rector, describing his experiences as 'an inner city parson.' Although described as a Christian agnostic (!), the reverend author did make a good point about the Anglican clergy that is just as valid for Catholics - as the reviewer put it, 'clergy are expected now to be not so much ministers as managers of the local branches of a national chauin store, with "delivery strategies" and targets, except without the staff to order around...John [the author] deplores what he sees to be a Church of England culture "intolerant of the idiosyncratic...the bland leading the bland."'

Moreover, 'he was proud to say he belonged to a passing generation of clergy taught that mornings should be spent in your study. Books are always more important than meetings.' Hmmm, that's rather commendable.

So, the words of the 'Sea Symphony' and this rather eccentric article in an Anglican parish newsletter provided me with food for thought; appropriate since on Monday I go on my annual retreat...

Thoughts for Ascensiontide

The Ascension is the grand finale, when Jesus, having completed His mission of salvation, returns to the Father in Heaven. The problem is that it is very hard to imagine the circumstances of the Ascension. It is easy enough to imagine the manner of Christ’s coming into the world – His birth in the stable of Bethlehem and the adoration of the angels, shepherds and wise men – but the manner of His departure fills us with many questions.

Most paintings show the Ascending Christ being propelled up towards Heaven, rather like a rocket lifting off into space. In some churches in the past today’s Feast saw the elaborate ascension of a statue of the Risen Christ right up into the roof of the church, and sometimes a parallel descent into the ground of a figure of the devil. But we shouldn’t imagine the Lord hurtling through the stratosphere or start wondering how many light years it took Him to reach Heaven! When we talk of ‘Ascension’ we are using human language where human language doesn’t really apply. Indeed the Gospels speak of the Lord’s disappearing beneath a cloud, which in the Bible is always a sign of the mystery and majesty of God. For thirty-three years the Word was made flesh, the invisible God made visible. Now He becomes invisible once again in the cloud and God’s definitive Revelation has ended.

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There is a pious tradition that the Ascension of the Lord took place at midday. The symbolism behind this is very powerful. After all, He is thought to have been born at midnight, at an hour when the world covered in darkness – for Jesus came into a world darkened by sin and showed us the way back to the Light. He ascended at midday, the hour when the sun is at its strongest – for Jesus, the ‘Sun of Justice,’ has now conquered death and given us new life.

And yet His light does not disappear with the Ascension; the disciples are not suddenly shrouded in darkness. No, Christ has given His light to the Church, to His followers, until He comes again. The Ascension passes Christ’s mission on to us: ‘Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations,’ we hear in St Matthew’s Gospel, ‘baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ We are to become His hands and feet, His eyes and ears, His lips and tongue, and we are assured of His abiding presence with us, to the end of time. Christ is with us in the words of Scripture and in the teachings and guidance of the Church; Christ is with us most particularly in the Blessed Sacrament that we find in every church; Christ is with us in our brothers and sisters and especially in those who are most vulnerable – the unborn, the sick and the needy; Christ is with us in ourselves, thanks to our Baptism and the work of the Holy Spirit, and in the everyday situations that challenge us to put our faith into action.

The Ascension, then, is not a feast of God’s absence but a feast of God’s presence. Alleluia!

Monastery Crawl

Earlier this week I popped over to Downside Abbey in Somerset to collect a monastic archive (as you do). A parishioner kindly agreed to provide transport and, as there was room, Cally's Kitchen also joined us. Here is the boot of the car groaning with dusty documents concerning the English Augustinian Canonesses of Paris:

En route we drove through Woolhampton (on the other side of Reading) so we made the short detour to Douai Abbey, another house of the English Benedictine Congregation. Like Downside, the Abbot there is one of our leading Catholic historians. The exterior is rather unusual, due to the modern extension:


However, I think the interior works rather well - lots of space and light:

In the monastic cemetery we paid our respects at the grave of Dom Basil Griffin, twin brother of Cardinal Bernard Griffin, sixth Archbishop of Westminster (1943-56):


Of course, arriving at Downside we were able to visit the tomb of another brother of a Cardinal - Dom Jerome Vaughan, who effectively founded Fort Augustus Abbey up in Scotland, though he later had to leave the community. He was one of the many clerical or monastic siblings of Cardinal Herbert Vaughan.

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This Week

It's been quite a week.

On Tuesday I was in Kendal (on the edge of the Lake District, one of England's most beautiful regions) to conduct my aunt's funeral - the first family function of this type that I've done as a priest. Since my father was unable to make the journey due to poor health, I was also the 'chief mourner.' I was greatly helped by two permanent deacons, who wore dalmatics and were very competent on the sanctuary. The Mass was followed by burial at Kendal Cemetery, at the foot of the old castle where the last wife of Henry VIII, Katherine Parr, is said to have been born. I then had the chance to revisit my aunt's house, perhaps for the final time.

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Without boring you, this was the site of perhaps the happiest of my childhood memories since my grandparents once lived there. It was a magical place to visit as a child and the imagination really ran wild in the large garden and field behind the house, all against the backdrop of the Westmorland hills. I particularly remember walking up the field with my grandfather, who used to speak about his experiences at the Battle of the Somme. We would stand under this tree (see below), with three large rocks, which (he said) had once been used by the local Viking leaders for their council meetings. I suspect I might be rather disillusioned if I looked for historical evidence for this!

On a happier note, last night I went to the London Oratory to speak to their hugely successful young adults group - at least a hundred people, mostly young professionals, packed into St Wilfrid's Hall. My topic was the Spanish Inquisition - that old chestnut. One person made the very good point that we should stop being so defensive and apologetic about it (the natural reaction to the familiar 'Black Legend'); instead we should celebrate the positive contributions it made to Europe, especially in the field of legal procedure. Such was the care taken in following the strict procedures, that if you were innocent you had a better chance in an Inquisition court of being cleared than you would in the secular equivalent. The basic points I made can be found here.

The Pope in America

I've been enjoying Pope Benedict's Apostolic Visit to the United States, courtesy of EWTN, and I'm sure the warm reception he has received everywhere will do much to strengthen him in his Petrine Ministry. I must confess that I've found some of the liturgies to be rather long-winded and the music at times brash and over-the-top - indeed, I even thought (to my surprise) that some of the musical performances at last night's Youth Rally were more satisfying than those during the Mass at St Patrick's Cathedral!

One of the highlights for me was the Holy Father's rich address to the young people in New York yesterday, which contained much more than the widely reported critique of his youth in Nazi Germany. Here are my favourite passages:

Have you noticed how often the call for freedom is made without ever referring to the truth of the human person? Some today argue that respect for freedom of the individual makes it wrong to seek truth, including the truth about what is good. In some circles to speak of truth is seen as controversial or divisive, and consequently best kept in the private sphere. And in truth’s place or better said its absence an idea has spread which, in giving value to everything indiscriminately, claims to assure freedom and to liberate conscience. This we call relativism. But what purpose has a freedom which, in disregarding truth, pursues what is false or wrong? How many young people have been offered a hand which in the name of freedom or experience has led them to addiction, to moral or intellectual confusion, to hurt, to a loss of self-respect, even to despair and so tragically and sadly to the taking of their own life? Dear friends, truth is not an imposition. Nor is it simply a set of rules. It is a discovery of the One who never fails us; the One whom we can always trust. In seeking truth we come to live by belief because ultimately truth is a person: Jesus Christ. That is why authentic freedom is not an opting out. It is an opting in; nothing less than letting go of self and allowing oneself to be drawn into Christ’s very being for others.

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Your personal prayer, your times of silent contemplation, and your participation in the Church’s liturgy, bring you closer to God and also prepare you to serve others. The saints accompanying us this evening show us that the life of faith and hope is also a life of charity. Contemplating Jesus on the Cross we see love in its most radical form. We can begin to imagine the path of love along which we must move. The opportunities to make this journey are abundant. Look about you with Christ’s eyes, listen with his ears, feel and think with his heart and mind. Are you ready to give all as he did for truth and justice? Many of the examples of the suffering which our saints responded to with compassion are still found here in this city and beyond. And new injustices have arisen: some are complex and stem from the exploitation of the heart and manipulation of the mind; even our common habitat, the earth itself, groans under the weight of consumerist greed and irresponsible exploitation. We must listen deeply. We must respond with a renewed social action that stems from the universal love that knows no bounds. In this way, we ensure that our works of mercy and justice become hope in action for others.

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[To the seminarians] The People of God look to you to be holy priests, on a daily journey of conversion, inspiring in others the desire to enter more deeply into the ecclesial life of believers. I urge you to deepen your friendship with Jesus the Good Shepherd. Talk heart to heart with him. Reject any temptation to ostentation, careerism, or conceit. Strive for a pattern of life truly marked by charity, chastity and humility, in imitation of Christ, the Eternal High Priest, of whom you are to become living icons. Dear seminarians, I pray for you daily. Remember that what counts before the Lord is to dwell in his love and to make his love shine forth for others.

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The Martyr of Greenwich

Today is the Memoria, in our diocesan calendar, of St Alphege – a very popular saint and national hero of a thousand years ago. He started life as a monk in Gloucestershire and Somerset, but despite trying to live a solitary life his talents were soon recognised and he was brought out into the public spotlight: he successively became Abbot of Bath, Bishop of Winchester and (in 1005) Archbishop of Canterbury.

It was not an easy time to be a Christian leader because of the on-going threat of the pagan Danes, better known to us as the Vikings, with their horned helmets and frequent raids on England. In 1011 they captured Canterbury and Archbishop Alphege was taken prisoner and ransomed for the princely sum of £3,000. He was taken towards London and eventually murdered at Greenwich, since he infuriated the Danes by not letting money be collected for his ransom. According to tradition, the saint was killed during a banquet - the Danes threw bones at him from their table and then one of them struck him on the head with an axe. He was buried at St Paul’s Cathedral, where his shrine was visited by many pilgrims, before being moved to Canterbury in 1023. St Thomas Becket prayed to St Alphege just before his own martyrdom in Canterbury Cathedral.

Even if St Alphege cannot be said to have explicitly died for the Faith, St Anselm said that, like St John the Baptist, he was a martyr for justice and truth. And so today we pray that through the intercession of St Alphege, we too will bear witness to the truth this coming week and pursue justice in all our undertakings, without compromising our principles in the face of opposition.

St Alphege, pray for us!

Old St Pancras

I was meeting a friend at London's St Pancras International recently and, since I had some time to kill, walked up the road to Old St Pancras church, just behind the station (not a place to linger in after dark!). For some unaccountable reason, I had never been there before, and yet it claims to be one of the oldest Christian sites in the country. Indeed, the sign boldly claims that the church has been 'a site of prayer and meditation since 314 AD.'

There is no hard evidence for the claim, but it is an impressive one to make - the dedication of St Pancras is certainly a very ancient one and may have originated with the mission of St Augustine of Canterbury, who promoted the cults of Roman saints as part of his evangelization of the south-east. In the nineteenth century what was thought to be a sixth century altar stone was found - and immediately dubbed 'St Augustine's Altar'! Some think that the site of the church was a pagan shrine that was converted to Christian use in Roman times, long before St Augustine (and 314, just after the conversion of Constantine, seems a convenient date).

The interior of the (Anglican) church is pleasant enough, with a few old monuments (including that of the minaturist, Samuel Cooper), an exposed bit of Norman wall (on the extreme left of the photo below) and a shrine to Our Lady of Walsingham (out of view). One feels a million miles away from the bustling station nearby!

The most interesting dimension of Old St Pancras is the graveyard, which was once favoured by the Catholic community due to its ancient origins and the tradition that the church was one of the last where Mass was said publicly at the Reformation (the Elizabethan incumbent, a Marian priest, seems to have celebrated Mass in Latin well into the second half of the sixteenth century and was tolerated by the authorities). Several of the Vicars Apostolic were buried in the churchyard, including Bonaventure Giffard, and many of the French refugees during the Revolution (including Archbishop Dillon, whose porcelain false teeth were recently found). Other famous burials include J. C. Bach and Sir John Soane. Next time you're at King's Cross or St Pancras, it's worth popping down Midland Rd (the road in between St Pancras and the British Library) and visiting this site, sanctified by centuries of Catholic associations.

Venetian Relics II: Dragon Bones?

On Wednesday Fr Whinder and I spent a wonderful day on the Venetian island of Murano, famous for its glass-making and also several fine churches. One of them, Santi Maria e Donato, was founded in the seventh century and rebuilt in the twelfth, in order to accomodate the relics of St Donatus, which the Doge had brought back with him from Cephalonia in 1125. You can see the saint's shrine above the High Altar in the picture. Along with St Donatus' body, the Doge brought back the bones of the dragon that he reputedly killed by spitting at it. These are displayed behind the High Altar:

There can't be many churches that claim the actual bones of a fabulous beast; I wonder if any scientific tests have been conducted on them! Sadly most visitors ignore them and concentrate on the mosaics on the floor and apse.

Afterwards, we had a fantastic meal at the nearby Ai Frari (above), where I fell in love with tagliolini (long pasta) with stewed cuttlefish, cooked in cuttlefish ink. Sounds ghastly but it was delicious!