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Easter Sunday
At last, the end of the cycle. The privations of Lent and the sufferings of the last few days are over. The church is packed, probably as busy as if it was Christmas. There are young families, the very old and several gay couples. If you are gay you are probably not going to be Low Church and we are High as You Like. I do overhear one older matron saying “All these men are all very well but the Sunday School will be empty in a couple of years!”
There is much more of a sense of celebration today with lots of belting hymns that have ‘Alleluya’ in them. Father Andrew has an excellent sermon about the centenary of the doomed Scott expedition to the Antarctic. Scott’s last scrawled words: ‘All that will be left will be these rough notes and our bodies’ is almost parallel to the story of the early Christians. The determination which some saw as arrogance. The courage which some saw as stupidity. The desire to explore which some saw as Imperialism. At the end of the day good things did come about as a result of Scott’s sacrifice. Agreements and consensus over the Antarctic territories. Knowledge from the 32 pounds of samples that had been dragged back from the South Pole. Advances in clothing, survival techniques. And so on.
As I took an extra generous helping of Communion wine from the retired Sergeant type who was helping the Priests it struck me how apposite the Scott comparison was. Our Anglo Catholic Church is the acceptable face of tradition. When the massed strumming banjos of the Evangelicals get too much here is a chunk of Old School faith: Jesus as a sensible, stiff-upper lip chap who is both firm but fair, but wreathed in the smoke of ancient ritual.
The top left photo shows Father Paul with his chicken accessory after having organised the post service Easter Egg hunt; a lower picture shows some of the children getting ready to start searching.
Maria Bambina
At Farnborough Abbey there is a small waiting room for visitors which is mostly taken up with what seems to be a glass coffin containing a waxen baby corpse. This is in fact a model of the Virgin Mary… as a baby. This is quite a specialised niche devotion for those who are not satisfied with statues of the adult Mary. The Mother Lode (as it were) of this particular worship originated in Milan at the Motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity, a Franciscan order. They were the first ones to have a lifesize wax baby of Mary and over the last 300 years their baby has been in turn hidden, venerated, neglected and worshipped.
Its great heyday was at the end of the 19th Century when the infant was given to sick nuns on an overnight basis. I wasn’t there, but I would imagine it was prayed to, cared for, cuddled even. Several nuns miraculously recovered from debilitating illnesses as a result of this regime and somewhat spookily the baby itself began to regenerate, transforming from a rather beat up discoloured object to the hale and hearty specimen which can be visited to this day.
September 8th, which is the Nativity of Mary, is obviously the best time to visit the convent. You may be able to obtain a small sacramental piece of cotton which has been touched to the baby by the nuns. Miniature Baby Mary’s are also considered an excellent gift for newly weds.
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Portuguese Religious Statues
I always liked that Catholic belief that one can ask Saints and other major characters to intercede on your behalf. A bit like going to a mortgage broker to help get that house loan, it helps to have someone on your side who knows what they are doing. As is common throughout Southern Europe, Portuguese churches have a comprehensive selection of Statues representing everyone from the Mother of God to some very obscure movers and shakers. Talking of which the chap on the right is Saint Roman, probably Roman the Melodist. He was a hymn writer and singer who was given a holy scroll by the Madonna and told to eat it. After doing this he sang like noone has ever sung before and wrote many hundreds acclaimed psalms. Those who had previously mocked prostrated themselves in front of him and begged for forgiveness; how satisfying that must have been! Here he is shown with a book in one hand and bread and wheat in the other in what I assume is a straightforward transubstantiation play.
Not so belated Christmas Blog
Simon and Margaret Mary, two of our oldest and most helpful customers (if we are ever unsure what particular Saint a statue is supposed to represent we will send them pictures) have sent us photographs of their Nativity figures which they purchased from us just before Christmas. I show them here as a rather lovely example of seasonal decorating. Of course we have a vested interest as suppliers of Nativity sets but I do think showing as well as celebrating the birth of Christ around the 25th of December is not to be sniffed at even as an adjunct to Prince Albert’s jolly German pagan conifers. And for serious old fashioned Catholics, taking down the decorations isn’t an option until 2nd February (Candlemass - Presentation of the Christ Child in the Temple, 40 days after the birth of Jesus).
Also note the seasonal outfits which Simon and Margaret Mary have clothed their full size Madonna and Child - something that I’ve not seen before.
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Iemanja…. I picked up this little statue from an undertakers shop in Portugal. I thought this was a nice seasidey manifestation of Our Lady and listed it for sale on our website as The Star of the Sea. Or something along those lines. Didn’t think anymore about it until we got an email from an rather outraged South American Christian who pointed out that this was Iemanja, Voodoo Goddess of Oceans and probably not an appropriate choice in our Catholic shop.
Her name is a contraction of Yoruba words: “Yeye emo eja” that mean “Mother whose children are like fish.” This represents the vastness of her motherhood, her fecundity and her reign over all living things. On her festival day her followers will plunge offerings into the sea in the hope that their wishes will be granted.
