You Can't Avoid Their Gaze

They peer down at you from every vantage point. Whether it is from the fading light of day through the deep resonating colors of glass tinged with careful tinctures of metals carefully chosen for their proper hue or from a perch high above the street upon a parapet or below the sash of a window – the faces of kings, scholars, bishops, saints, and sinners. They all watch you walk along as they have been watching countless others day by day, year after year, through the centuries.

Only true historians would know who the seemingly insignificant ones are. Others are plainly evident: major patrons of the colleges they founded or endowed. Others might be notable alumnae or faculty of renowned learning. Some may have literally lost their heads in religious strife. Others simply faded into obscurity as their ideas lost currency among the learned. Such it is in a community of learning.

A mentor of mine once said, “There is nothing deader than a dead priest.” That gives someone like me true pause for reflection among the many stony faces, many of them priests, forgotten in the mists of time. The way I read it is that to live the life of a priest, one must aspire to live in imitation of Christ, fully, very much in the way St. Paul describes in his Letter to the Philippians: “Let your attitude be as Christ’s, who though he was in the form of God, did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at but emptied himself.” That attitude requires one to say that one’s life is no longer one’s own, really, but belongs to God, to the other. Consequently, at life’s end, one has little left, really, if one has followed Jesus totally, because that is what Jesus had – nothing.   “… even unto death, death on a cross.”

The only remembrances, then, are names scratched next to other names in baptismal registers, on marriage certificates, and burial records. Perhaps there will be a plaque – or like the grotesques that loom over the streets of Cambridge, a face now worn by rain and wind. But the real memorial is in the lives touched, the souls salved, the sins forgiven. These are the places where priests’ spirits live on. “So, gaze on good bishop, soon I’ll see you, too.”

A Darker Side

It might be too easy to fall in love with the almost “Disneyworld” version of Cambridge. The sheer volume of history can easily swallow you as you wander the streets. Architecture, traditions, stories, and even ghosts (yes, there are ghost tours, too) make this city a sort of wonderland. But it has a another, all too real side.

My afternoon walk on Sunday took me into a less than picturesque part of the city. Still populated with university related buildings, it was much less storied. More modern residence halls interspersed among aging nineteenth-century college lodges and lecture halls formed the landscape – if you could call it that. It was more concrete than cobblestone; more motorbikes, cars, and buses than bicycles. There were few tourist types. There were fewer people. They were students – and people who lived and worked here. The fare at the cafes was simpler, and a bit cheaper (though not much), which probably accounted for why there were fewer of them and fewer customers in them.

At the corner of Manor Street and Jesus Lane (ironically) sits the majestic All Saints Church.

All Saints Church, Cambridge

Built in stages between 1863 and 1871, by 1973, the church had outlived its usefulness and was closed. Changing demographics and the encroachment of the university itself caused what the Church of England calls “redundancy.” It was entrusted to Churches Conservation Trust and is currently used for special events and the like. However, a quick survey indicates that it isn’t being used very much at all. In fact, a sign posted outside invites visitor in to see a “remarkable example of mid-Victorian architecture and decorative art. Open.” But the gate was locked and hadn’t looked open for some time.

Spent needles outside All Saints Church,
Jesus Lane, Cambridge

Education at a prestigious university like Cambridge is both expensive and tough. On the train ride back from London on the day of the Coronation pilgrimage I overheard a conversation between a student from China and her friend. She was deeply troubled. Her parents were arriving in just a few days expecting her to graduate with honors with a degree in biochemistry. How would she tell them that she barely made the grade – and that she would not be admitted to the PhD research program that was their dream for her. Not only would they be disappointed in her, but she would bring shame on her family for having failed in their eyes.

Even here at Ridley Hall, a ministry student is a “leaver” – the final year of study – and still looking for a “curacy” – that precious first ministry placement that will lead to ordination as a deacon and then as priest. Without that, in a few weeks, he may, in his words, “not know where he will lay his head.” He is not alone in this worry.

Pressures like this are intense and can have devastating impact on young lives. Some of this pressure leads students to try what are called “study drugs” – substances that allegedly improve focus, or stamina, while studying. This can sometimes open the gate to other drug use, although there is a strong anti-drug culture afoot throughout the university, it simply cannot be totally avoided. More tragically, mental health issues surrounding chronic stress like depression and, regrettably, suicide also find their way into student life at every level. In 2022 alone, the suicide rate at Cambridge jumped 3-fold from the previous three years combined.

The Church of England promotes effective help networks for people in crisis. You may recall my visit to St. Stephen’s, Walbrook in London (Coronation Pilgrimage, May 3, 2023) and the founding of Samaritans. You will see information about the work of the Samaritans all over the university. The core of Samaritans' work is a telephone helpline, operating 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Samaritans was the first 24-hour telephone helpline to be set up in the UK. In addition, the organization offers a drop-in service for face-to-face discussion, undertakes outreach at festivals and other outdoor events, trains prisoners as "Listeners" to provide support within prisons, and undertakes research into suicide and emotional health issues. Since 1994, Samaritans has also offered confidential email support. In 2011 alone, Samaritans received over 206,000 emails, including many from outside the UK. It aims to answer each one within 24 hours.

It seems to me there is no more fitting work for the Church to be involved in than the support of the emotional and mental health and well-being of not only its members but also of the community at large. Regrettably, there is still a great stigma attached to issues of mental and emotional health, perhaps the gentle approach and cloak of spiritual guidance and assistance can help remove that fear and assist people get the help they really need. What can we do to help? What resources do we have or can we offer to bring the healing touch of God to those who hurt so deeply that their wounds cannot be seen?

What’s Old Becomes New Again

Scaffolding begins to surround the exterior of
Kings College Chapel. The billboards describe the
integration of architectural and environmental 
research being undertaken at the university.

After supper at Ridley Hall, many of the students usually repair to the Common Room just opposite the Dining Room for tea or coffee and a bit of conversation. Just as we entered, however, it was clear that this would not be the usual relaxing time as water poured through the window casement on the north end of the room. A thunderstorm had just passed. My guess is that a maintenance crew had pieced through a lead gutter during a clearing process and the great downpour was now making its way inward rather than to the downspout. My rector’s heart immediately felt pangs of compassion for any administrator who had charge of centuries old buildings as these were (relatively the same age as St. Luke’s). Cruel as it might be, there was great relief in that there was nothing I could do about it – it was clearly someone else’s problem. All rallied, however, to gather receptacles to minimize the damage and gather the incoming flood. The dehumidifier would run for days afterward to dry the carpet. I’d been down this road before.

One of the first things I noticed upon arriving in Cambridge was scaffolding around the chapel at King’s College. I didn’t think too much about it until I was in the queue for Evensong on Friday of that first week. Soon, I discovered that this was the beginning the replacement of the 150-year-old lead roof the chapel. The process involves stripping off the lead, melting it down, and reusing it over the next few months to rebuild the roof’s coating. Once the lead is fully removed, the roof timbers will be inspected to ensure they are in good condition. The new roof could also support discrete solar panels, if pending plans are approved. However, any such plan would need approval from several organizations before being installed. However, there is no guarantee that such approval would be forthcoming and any one of the organizations involved (municipal or ecclesiastical) could refuse such permission. 

The entire process simultaneously seeks to attain several goals. First, it hopes to assure that a building dating from 1446 continues to have a viable and integral roof. Secondly, to do so in a way that is sustainable and uses resources efficiently. Beyond that, the process looks to the future hoping that new technologies can make this historic building an even richer resource for the community not only by demonstrating its continuing viability but it’s enhancing its value to this and future generations.

As someone who for several years was deeply involved in the work of historic preservation, I can attest that this is the value of such work. The days of “tear it down and build something shiny and new” (as we did in the 1970s with what was known as “urban renewal”) taught us some important lessons, not the least of which was that a disregard for the historic fabric of our communities cuts us off from our history and severs important ties with our roots, with our identity as a social community. On the other hand, preservation for its own sake can deprive future generations of important resources for their growth and development. The great value of historic preservation is to allow the past to inform us in the present in ways that move us forward.

St. Luke’s will soon undertake a capital campaign to make some much needed modifications to its physical plant. Each of these changes and improvements is designed to preserve treasures received from those who have gone before in ways that will help us serve our community better and will enable generations to follow fulfill the mission entrusted to them by Jesus by being an active and welcoming presence in the wider community.

In some ways, this mission has never changed. It is still the mission of the gospel. But now that mission has transformed to meet a new generation in a new and ever-changing world and we need different tools to meet its challenges. Truly, what’s old must become new again.

Make A Joyful Noise

Saturday morning is usually “market day” for me – a day to walk into town to the market square a partake of things that delight the senses – the beautiful artistic crafts available from local artisans tease the eye, aromas of meats and vegetables grilling in any cuisine you could imagine – Iberian paella, Venezuelan Arepa, halloumi wraps from Cyprus, fresh baked breads of every sort, croissant, bagels, smoked meats, fresh fish and seafood, German sausage sandwiches to go, shall I go on?

And then there are the ears. At every corner of the square are performers. Some of them are artists from local venues promoting their shows. Others are students from the university. All this working together to create a feast of sight and sound and smell to help you understand that God made a wonderful world – a world of tremendous diversity.

All one needs to do is stand here for a moment and experience it all. Not just the art and the crafts and the foods and music, but the people – the diverse sounds of their voices – languages from every corner of the world – English, German, Italian, Polish, Spanish, Urdu, Mandarin, Arabic, Malay, French, Afrikaans, Dutch – those were the ones I could identify. I don’t know how many more I could not hear or pick out. And to think, all this compressed into this little market square in this little city.

It makes me wonder what it might have been like on that first Pentecost Sunday so long ago, when, as it is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, those standing about wondered aloud

Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?  Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt, and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!” Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?”

What an experience that must have been. What an impression that must have made – to have all those differences fall away in an instant. How marvelous it would be if we might have such an experience ourselves – to have our differences fall away suddenly, so that we could the experience of a fuller understanding of what it truly means to be part of this human family – to understand how much we really share in common and that the things that we see as differences really have no need to be a cause for division, but can be things that delight the senses – and can bring joy to the soul.

Corpus Christi - A Seat for All within the Body of Christ

The Courtyard of Corpus Christi College

I’ve mentioned St. Bene’t’s Church many times in my reflections, largely because I’ve taken to attending services there on Sunday mornings. It’s a wonderful small parish church filled with kindly, welcoming people. What I haven’t noted, however, is its connection to Corpus Christi College – one of the older colleges that comprise Cambridge University.

Corpus Christi College, unlike many of the others, was founded in 1352 by Cambridge townspeople. Perhaps, in modern terms, it might be considered a “community college.” Ironically, although it has one of the smallest enrollments of the many colleges in Cambridge, it has been one of the more academically successful, and is one of the wealthiest Cambridge colleges in terms of its fixed assets.

The college's formal name is the “College of Corpus Christi and the Blessed Virgin Mary in the University of Cambridge,” usually abbreviated simply to "Corpus Christi College." From the early 16th century, it was also known as Benet or St Benet's College, from the nearby St Bene't's Church, associated with the founding Guild of Corpus Christi. Both the college and the church stand on Benet Street and until the late 16th century, St Bene't's Church served as the college chapel (although St Botolph's Church, right next door, was also used for some services).

The college has many notable alumni among which are: Elizabethan playwright Christopher Marlowe (rival to Shakespeare), Samuel Wesley, poet and writer (and father of John and Charles Wesley, the founders of Methodism), Christopher Isherwood, novelist, Hugh Bonneville, actor (of Downton Abbey fame) to name only a few among many government officials, internationally recognized research scientists, mathematicians, musical composers, and world explorers.

One of the landmarks associated with “Corpus” (the abbreviated name for the college) is the “Corpus Clock.” The clock, unveiled by Cambridge physicist Steven Hawking in 2008 features a grotesque giant grasshopper perched atop the clock face that keeps the clock moving and is known as a “chronophage” or “time eater.” The message of the clock is the passing of time – so one should live every moment to the fullest. Unfortunately, I cannot show you this monstrosity of a timepiece because a hammer-wielding vandal attempted to damage it but succeeded only in damaging its protective glass casement. However, the clock has been temporarily removed and is undergoing examination and repair before being restored to its place of prominence at the corner of Benet Street and King’s Parade.

The choir and chancel of St. Botolph's.
Notice the rood screen at the front of the choir.

I mentioned St. Botolph's Church above, which lies at the south end of the college. This church dates from the fifteenth century and was built near what was then known as the Trumpington Gate to the City of Cambridge. St. Botolph is known as a patron of travelers, so it was a fitting dedication. Along with St. Bene't's and Corpus Christi College, St. Botolph is known for its rather close adherence to the more catholic traditions of Anglicanism as is evident in the architecture, art and furnishings of the church. Interestingly, it is one of the only churches in the region where the "rood screen" survived the purges of Reformation (see the photo). The rood screen (a.k.a. choir screen or chancel screen) is a common feature in late medieval church architecture. It is typically an ornate partition between the chancel and nave, of more or less open tracery constructed of wood, stone, or wrought iron. The rood screen is usually surmounted by a "rood loft" carrying the Great Rood, a sculptural representation of the Crucifixion. You will see a more modern version of this in the Cathedral Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, PA. The notion of the rood screen is the architectural basis for the masonry division between the choir and the nave in our own parish church (St. Luke's, Lebanon, PA).

So, from the contemporary worship we experience here at Ridley Hall, with television screens and electronic music, to the ancient traditions of medieval Anglo-catholicism, the full spectrum of Anglican thought is not only on display but can be experience here. It is the treasure of our tradition, that there is a seat for everyone at our table.

Wounds and Scars

The WW I Memorial in the Churchyard
at St. Andrew's & St. Mary's
Grantchester

It is hard to avoid. In nearly every town and village of any size, any traditional there is in a public square or in the churchyard a monument to “The Great War.” That phrase has a particular meaning here in Great Britain. It refers to World War I. Here that war began in 1914 and lasted for four horrific years. The United States did not enter the war until 1917, and while America's participation may have played a significant role in bringing that war to an end, the allied nations of Europe paid a terrible price. The United Kingdom alone lost 744,000 combat dead with nearly twice that number wounded. The war touched nearly every town, every family in the nation. The moral wounds were deep and were only beginning to heal when yet another war threatened the very existence of the nation itself.

As Americans, we often debate “existential threats” to our own homeland. Here, in Britain, the scars of these kinds of wounds dot the countryside and mar elements of its cityscape. Reflecting on scars like these, however, helps us remember hard-fought battles and provide a lens that allows us to see that people can find strength within even when they may not have recognized it was there – strength that usually emerges from a sense of solidarity – a sense of common purpose.

We have our own national scars and our memorials – a civil war – two world wars – Korea – Viet Nam – 9/11 – Shanksville – the list goes on.

When our scars start to become stories that we can tell, they can offer hope to those who may face similar struggles. When people facing difficult situations can see the wound that healed in healing in someone else's scars, it can become a powerful source of strength for them. That’s why it remains important never to forget our struggles, never to hide our scars. Rather, it remains always important to share our stories, and to listen to the stories of others who have struggled, of those who have gone before us, that we may learn that we to can survive - and heal. Knowing our history - the good and the bad - is important to that process - otherwise those wounds may just fester. For us to heal truly, let's be honest first with ourselves and then with those around us. The scars may form. But they will bring a beauty all their own. 

Church Open, Come In

The Tower of the Church of
St Andrew & St Mary

Grantchester. 

There really is such a place. It’s about 4 km (1.6 mi.) south of Cambridge. A brisk walk through the Grantchester Meadows, trails through farm fields where signs warn of possible encounters with cattle (and how to cope), brought me into the back yard of The Red Lion, not yet open for business, and soon to The Green Man, just opening its doors. Tempting though it was to stop for a bite and a drink, I sauntered just a block further to the Church of St. Andrew and St. Mary.

There it was. It’s funny how things always appear slightly different in real life than they do on the television screen, but there it was, clearly identifiable. Fortunately, there was a sign that beckoned, “Church Open, Come In.” That’s one thing I’ve found here. Regardless of whether it is a big city or a small town, church doors are nearly always open, ready to receive visitors. There is seldom (if ever) heavy security apparatus apparent. I wonder if it is necessary. Perhaps there is an inherent respect for these sanctuaries that is lacking in our society. One can wonder.

The south side rear

Another thing that I have noticed is that because these churches are often very old, space is at a premium. There is no compunction to use every bit of available space for some activity or another. At St. Bene’t’s on Sundays, for example, coffee and cakes are served in the North aisle. The equivalent at St. Luke’s might be to have coffee hour in the Lady Chapel! 

Children's area on the north side 

In St. Andrew's and St. Mary’s in Grantchester, drawings about proposed modifications to the church entrance (and the accompanying capital campaign) are posted near the massive and ancient baptismal font, near table and chairs that serve as a meeting and discussion area. On the side opposite is a children’s area near the narthex. Every square foot being put to use.

It reminds me that church isn’t always “neat and tidy.” In fact, messy church (which often means noisy church) can mean a church that is alive and thriving. Several years ago, I remember standing at a pre-convention meeting during a rather heated debate to remind some folks that the mission of the church was to make disciples and not simply to sustain museums. What good were our lovely and beautiful buildings if they are empty and devoid of worshipers? Holding on to the past for its own sake - keeping things neat and tidy - at the expense of the Church's fundamental mission is a sure path to decline and is, I believe, contrary to the will of God. Everything we do, every change we make must always keep that mission in mind.

“Church Open, Come In” -- I think it’s time we made that our motto, too.