All in essay
It is not, these days, sexy to defend the fear of death, except perhaps as a transient stage in a process of grieving, à la Kubler-Ross, which is the last time her name will be mentioned in this paper. Perhaps it never has been sexy. All the same, I would like to try to provide a defence of sorts of the fear of death, not as good per se, but at least natural, rational, appropriate, and useful.
Like all good catchphrases, ‘laborare est orare’ [‘to work is to pray’] is a mis-rendering. Just as S. Francis probably didn’t use the words, ‘preach the Gospel at all times, use words if necessary’, so ‘laborare est orare’ is a popular mis-rendering of the Benedictine, ‘ora et labora’ [‘prayer and work’].
Hans Holbein the Younger’s The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb (1521—1522) depicts, in unforgiving realism, the mutilated corpse of a crucified man, claustrophobically entombed. There is no indication of who the man is in the painting per se; the identity of the anonymous criminal has be to imposed, from above as it were, in an inscription borne by angels, IESVS NAZARENVS REX IVDAEORVM.
If I'd like to say a brief word about processions. We don't have as many processions at St Mary Magdalen’s as I’d like. It would be wonderful to have a Corpus Christi procession outside for all to see in the broad light of day. The reason for this, of course, is that a procession is not simply a ritual of praise and worship, it is a witness to the gospel we proclaim. […]
Each year, the Easter season, stretching from Christ's resurrection to the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, reminds us afresh that following in the way of Jesus leads us to the deepest, most inconceivable of paradoxes. It reminds us that Jesus reshapes what we mean when we say “God”. You see, the Easter season is immediately followed by Trinity Sunday. […]
I must confess that I am quite unable to tell apart an Ulster accent from a Scots one; or Cockney from Estuary; or Geordie from Scouse. I know RP when I hear it, of course; that’s just what villains in American films speak. Speaking of Americans, there is—as you might know—no better way for an American to encounter British snobbery than to talk about eggplants and cookies, bathrooms and the fall, candy and trash, and, the worst crime of all, pants. […]
Perhaps you know this experiment. It uses two dolls. Sally has a basket, Anne has a box. Sally puts a marble in her basket. And then she goes away. While Sally is away, Anne takes the marble from her basket and puts it in her own box. Then Sally comes back again. Where will she look for her marble? […]
Some time ago, at a local synod, a speaker suggested that we needed another symbol—apart from the cross—a symbol that suggested a more dynamic approach to Christian faith. I was interested, indeed amused, that this scandalised some members of the audience, because it was clear that they were unaware of the sensitivities of those Christians who lived in the centuries immediately following the death of Christ. […]
Prayer is a universal marker and practice of the Christian life. Yet it causes some of the greatest anxiety among faithful believers who feel that they do not know how to pray, do not pray “well” (whatever that means), or have ceased to be able to pray. As a result there are probably more books on prayer than on any other aspect of the Christian life. But such books are potentially dangerous, for several reasons.
In the weeks leading to Easter—and with terrifying memories of my diaconal year—I (with fear and trembling) practise singing the Exsultet, just in case the deacon tasked with the nine-minute solo falls ill. As scary as it is to sing this most beautiful and ancient hymn […]
I first came across this poem many years ago. I’ve never been a devotee of Hardy. As an undergraduate I tackled Tess of the d’Urbervilles; I found it utterly compulsive, emotionally exhausting, but slightly mechanical—at every key moment in the story, Tess has a decision to make, and after a while you get the idea that she’s not going to make the right one.
Mary Karr writes that ‘Poetry and prayer alike offer . . . [an] instantaneous connection—one person groping from a dark place to meet with another in an instant that strikes fire’. Poetry is akin to prayer, perhaps a form of prayer, as it turns us outward. Language itself does this, moving us beyond ourselves to connect with another. […]
The Sacrament of Reconciliation (also known a Sacramental Confession or Penance) is one of the most joyful of the church’s sacraments—but it is one of the least known, at least among Anglicans. In essence it is very simple: personal confession of sin to God in the presence of a priest who then gives advice, suggests a “penance” or act of devotion which may be relevant to the matters confessed, and then in the name of Christ and His Church pronounces absolution.
Lent is a good time to think about the nature of truth. During Lent, we prepare ourselves for our celebration of the Resurrection, the ultimate victory of truth over the deceit of evil. The Resurrection is the truth upon which we as Christians base our lives. […]
Quite unlike George, Patron Saint of England (among other places), Patrick—Pádraig—was a Briton, probably born in the latter days of Roman authority in Britain or a decade or two afterwards in the early 5th century: his exact dates are much disputed. In his own Confessio, he tells us that his father Calpornius was a deacon who possessed an estate nearby, and that his grandfather a priest called Potitus. […]
The observance of a period of fasting before Easter is very ancient, though the length and character of the fast varied from place to place in the early days. Writing in the 2nd and 3rd centuries, Irenaeus of Lyons and Tertullian in North Africa both mention preparatory fasts in the days leading up to Easter. By the 4th and 5th centuries, we see the fasting period elongated: both Athanasius’s and Cyril’s Festal Letters assume a 40 day fast, for example. There are, however, still debates over what counts as this “fast of forty days”…
When the great Tractarian leader John Keble died in 1866, he was best known as a poet. His volume, The Christian Year, received something like ninety printings in his own lifetime. The obituary published in The Times of London tackles his reputation head on, and concludes that he should probably be thought of as England’s greatest priest poet. Among those who are dismissed as less deserving of the accolade, the writer lists ‘the poet of Bemerton’, one George Herbert (1593-1633).
Saint Valentine is by tradition a third-century Roman saint and martyr whose cult was only established by Pope Gelasius I in AD 496 amongst those “whose names are justly reverenced amongst men, but whose acts are known only to God”. He is included in the Martyrologium Hieronymianum (460-544 CE), and the sparse information which may have some element of reliability seems to be no earlier than the fifth century. He would, in fact, seem to have been the conflation of two saints […]
The sacraments, as Fr Ken Leech put it, are not “freak events” in a world which otherwise “runs on quite different rules.” They are a foretaste of God’s new creation, showing us what the world has been made for, and what it will ultimately be. The time of the Church’s sacramental life falls between that of Christ’s decisive victory over sin and death and the time in which the whole creation will enter into the fruits of that victory - when the powers of death are finally destroyed and he is “all in all” […]
“Merry Christmas!” If you haven’t been using the last 39 days to say “Merry Christmas” to friends, family and the world outside every day, you’ve been missing a trick. Whilst the world outside celebrates Christmas from early Autumn until Boxing Day, the Church celebrates the Christmas season from Midnight Mass to Candlemas. […]
