Christmas 2009 at St Peters
Two plays, both half a century old, currently showing in Richmond and London deserve a mention here. The first is “The Making of Moo” at The Orange Tree playing until 12 December so there’s still time, assuming there are seats. This is said to be an exposé of “Religion” and was first produced in 1957 when Britain was retreating from its colonies. The plot is the “creation” of a new god to replace the one the locals believe has been killed by the building of a dam. Worry not about the possible blasphemy – the real story is the hash made by man when trying to emulate God. Within two years human sacrifice (not unknown to the outgoing god) has re-established itself – of creditors, lawyers and other prying eyes and difficult people (referred to in the play as “Vespers”) - and ritual has supplanted the intended truth, the “Code” that parodies the Ten Commandments.
The other is “Inherit the Wind” at the Old Vic, playing until 20 December, which is a revival of an iconic “pre-Osborne” plays (written in 1955) based on the real-life drama of the Scopes “Monkey Trial” of 1925 in which a local teacher in Tennessee was arraigned for teaching his pupils about Darwin and “The Origin of Species”. It is a courtroom drama exposing the fallibility of reading the Bible literally – manifesting itself today as “creationism” - while posing questions about the morality of banning the spread of knowledge which contradicts the established orthodoxy. It recalls Galileo’s trial before the Inquisition in the 17th century.
What can we learn from these plays? Simply that the contract between God and the individual must not be confused with the ritual of religion; that faith, research and education are paper, scissors and stones – each beats the other and there is no definitive answer to fit all occasions. As Galileo said,
“And who can doubt that it will lead to the worst disorders when minds created free by God are compelled to submit slavishly to an outside will? When we are told to deny our senses and subject them to the whim of others?”
Galileo may have been pleading a cause but he had a point. And on that great day when you face your Maker the church will not be standing there beside you: you will be on your own. It cannot be your excuse. It is for you to decide now how best to prepare yourself for that day. The church and its ritual has a firm place in formalizing one’s thoughts; providing a discipline and space in which to review, clarify and improve how we live this life and prepare for that day; and to interpret God’s will in our own life. An hour or so a week spent on these activities seems time well spent in terms of eternity.
Spring 2009 at St Peters
On the last Sunday in April we said goodbye to our organ. Malcolm played it out magnificently with Karg-Elert’s transcription of Nun Danket alle Gott which got a huge round of applause. The organ behaved impeccably – it hasn’t always done so! – and we hope we shall play in its successor which is being built in Switzerland in about six months’ time. In the meantime we have an electronic organ at the back of the south transept.
The first Sunday of the Month there is an early service at 8am: Holy Communion using the 1662 rite – a quiet service with no music or singing. This month a blackbird was carolling Spring outside in the lane. He brought joy into the church but he distracted from the Epistle and Gospel readings with his alternative music.
But I had been distracted already by the preface to the service in the prayer book I was using. This prayer book belonged to my grandfather and probably dates from the 1920s or 1930s – the only clue is the Table of the Moveable Feasts for forty-four years from 1932 to 1975. The prayer book recites An Act for the Uniformity of Common Prayer and Service in the Church and Administration of the Sacraments PRIMO ELIZABETHAE (i.e. 1558). The Preface, which dates from the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, refers to the liturgy standing “firm and unshaken notwithstanding all the vain attempts and impetuous assaults made against it by such men as are given to change and have always discovered a greater regard to their own private fancies and interests than to that duty they owe to the publick.”
Recalling that both these dates mark the end of turbulent times in both church and country (and St Peter’s folk lived through them both) it is still surprising that the instructions preceding Holy Communion were:
‘THE ORDER OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF THE LORD’S SUPPER OR HOLY COMMUNION
So many of them as intend to be partakers of the holy Communion shall signify their names to the Curate at least some time the day before.
And if any of those be an open and notorious evil liver or have done any wrong to his neighbour by word or deed, so that the Congregation be thereby offended; the Curate, having knowledge thereof, shall call him and advertise him, that in any wise he presume not to come to the Lord’s Table, until he have openly declared himself to have truly repented and amended his former naughty life, that the Congregation may thereby be satisfied, which before were offended; and that he have recompensed the parties, to whom he hath done wrong; or at least declare himself to be in full purpose so to do, as soon as he conveniently may.
The same order shall the Curate use with those betwixt whom he perceiveth malice and hatred to reign; not suffering them to be partakers of the Lord’s Table, until he know them to be reconciled. And if one of the parties so at variance be content to forgive from the bottom if his heart all that the other hath trespassed against him, and to make amends for that he himself hath offended; and the other party will not be persuaded to a godly unity, but remain still in his forwardness and malice: the Minister in that case ought to admit the penitent person to the holy Communion, and not him that is obstinate. Provided that every Minister so repelling any, as is specified in this, or the next precedent Paragraph of the Rubrick, shall be obliged to give an account of the same to the Ordinary* within fourteen days after at the farthest. And the Ordinary shall proceed against the offending person according to the Canon.’
*An “ordinary” is an officer of the church who by reason of office has ordinary power to execute church's laws. (Wikipedia)
What does this say about life in the 17th century? Firstly, how does the curate come by the knowledge that a parishioner is “an open and notorious evil liver” or that malice and hatred reign between certain parishioners? Does one tell tales on one’s neighbour or does the curate make his own judgment? That cannot make for pleasant relations in the parish! Is he obliged to act on any accusation and who weighs the evidence? Second, what form of “recompense” was the liver of the naughty life supposed to make? Was the curate also to be used as the local debt-collector? And thirdly, who was to judge how close to the bottom of the parishioner’s heart was the spurned forgiveness that leads to exclusion from Communion of the wayward unforgiving party? And the “Ordinary” might well be a rector absent from the parish and employing the curate but well acquainted with those with power and influence – not least over his own appointment. So many questions of circumstances that have little relevance today!
In the service we are enjoined: “Ye that do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins and are in love and charity with your neighbours and intend to lead a new life . . . draw near with faith and take this holy sacrament to your comfort”.
This is much less forbidding. But there are still three prior conditions – repentance, love and charity, and lead a new life – and one prerequisite – faith. Enough to bite on in the 21st century.
And the blackbird was still singing outside when we came out. Today some choose to equate Nature with God and say they are the same. It is an easy option but it barely scratches the surface of our existence. God made us all – blackbird and man, tsunami and swine ‘flu – but the human has an extra factor of self-will that only he or she can direct. I can be distracted by the blackbird or ignore him and concentrate on the Epistle and the Gospel. Neither course will, of itself, get me to heaven but, with faith, I can believe that there is a way to God through Jesus and this service is part of the expression of that faith.
Autumn 2008 at St Peters
As we come to the end of this contrary summer, when the grass has still needed cutting twice a week in August, it is worth reflecting that in April and May we had the driest and warmest weeks for many years. The clematis, both the early flowering and the late flowering, have not done as well as in years when the weather has been kinder. The early flowering ones like Montana Rubens that grow on last year’s wood were short of water when they bloomed while those that flower on their current year’s wood have not grown as vigorously as in other years. The Etoile Violette that keeps the hot sun out of my window flowered well this year but grew less high than usual. So it was just as well that there wasn’t much hot sun!
"The kiss of sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth”
wrote Dorothy Frances Gurney. Well, not quite. It churns around in the brain when things are going well but it’s not totally true and doesn’t sustain when you’re up against Mother Nature. Great for pruning but not for too-late weeding! I see my garden as a metaphor for life – one starts each Spring with ideas and plans and gradually, as the summer progresses, Mother Nature, like the tortoise in the hare-and-tortoise fable, overtakes us and, by now, yet another year has gone by with not everything achieved. For all that, a garden is an emotional anchor, a place of delight and refuge just because it demands time each week to keep it in order and to let it give back its rewards.
St Peter’s is much the same. There are 168 hours in every week. The 9.30 morning service on Sunday (which Tim ensures lasts 59 minutes, no more, of which the sermon is about 8) is less than 1% of the week even with the semi-obligatory cup of coffee afterwards. You can sing your heart out with the choir as you would on a sunny day in the garden. You can sit quietly and think about what has gone well and what has not; how friends are faring; how challenges are met. You can reflect on the centuries that people have done just that in this church – the Cole memorial next to the altar dates from 1624. Some of the loved words of earlier services have gone (e.g. the old third Collect that asks “grant that this day we fall into no sin neither run into any kind of danger”: in Petersham Village it is more likely that danger will run into you) and others replace them with which we may not be so familiar but they are all on the service sheet.
And if it has failings, St Peter’s still measures up to some words passed on recently:
“If you should find the perfect church without one fault or smear,
For goodness’ sake, don’t join that church - you’d spoil the atmosphere!
But since no perfect church exists where people never sin,
Let’s cease in looking for that church and love the one were in.”
We don’t have a perfect garden and we don’t have a perfect church. We do have a lively and loving congregation - much like the plants in the garden, they blossom at different times, in different colours and in different ways. Everyone contributes something to the service and everyone takes something away.
Spring 2008 at St Peters
In the wall between the path and the churchyard you can see the stumps of the railings that were removed during the 1939-45 War to provide metal for armaments. This was part of the “war effort”. The metal was requisitioned by the government: it does not reflect on the church’s predisposition for or against the conflict.
St Peter’s may have looked prettier when the railings were there – they would have made a frame, a feature in the foreground and would have given a sense of enclosure and security for the loved ones buried under its turf. The railings, while pretty, were excluding. Whether they served any useful purpose, though, is debatable as the gate to the churchyard was open – as was the church itself then. Unfortunately, today, while the churchyard is open the church is locked to keep out unwanted intruders. The view of the church from the path is unrestricted now but access to the church has to be restricted. There is a notice in the porch detailing when and how the church can be accessed during the week. Of course, it is open every Sunday both for services in the morning and in the afternoon for visitors.
Inside the church, in the North transept is this modest plaque:
This is an extract from his citation for the Victoria Cross:
“CAPTAIN JOHN NEIL RANDLE
He was 26 years old, and a Temporary Captain in the 2nd Battalion, The Royal Norfolk Regiment.
Captain Randle was commander of 'B' Company of the Norfolks. On May 4 1944 during the Battle of Kohima in North East India he was ordered to attack the Japanese flank on GPT Ridge during the relief and clearance of Kohima.
On the 4th May, 1944, at Kohima in Assam, a Battalion of the Norfolk Regiment attacked the Japanese positions on a nearby ridge. Captain Randle took over command of the Company which was leading the attack when the Company Commander was severely wounded. His handling of a difficult situation in the face of heavy fire was masterly and although wounded himself in the knee by grenade splinters he continued to inspire his men by his initiative, courage and outstanding leadership until the Company had captured its objective and consolidated its position. He then went forward and brought in all the wounded men who were lying outside the perimeter. In spite of his painful wound Captain Randle refused to be evacuated and insisted on carrying out a personal reconnaissance with great daring in bright moonlight prior to a further attack by his Company on the position to which the enemy had withdrawn. At dawn on 6th May the attack opened, led by Captain Randle, and one of the platoons succeeded in reaching the crest of the hill held by the Japanese. Another platoon, however, ran into heavy medium machine gun fire from a bunker on the reverse slope of the feature.
Captain Randle immediately appreciated that this particular bunker covered not only the rear of his new position but also the line of communication of the battalion and therefore the destruction of the enemy post was imperative if the operation was to succeed. With utter disregard of the obvious danger to himself Captain Randle charged the Japanese machine gun post single-handed with rifle and bayonet. Although bleeding in the face and mortally wounded by numerous bursts of machine gun fire he reached the bunker and silenced the gun with a grenade thrown through the bunker slit. He then flung his body across the slit so that the aperture should be completely sealed. The bravery shown by this officer could not have been surpassed and by his self-sacrifice he saved the lives of many of his men and enabled not only his own Company but the whole Battalion to gain its objective and win a decisive victory over the enemy.”
Had Captain Randle survived he would have been 90 this year. May 4th, the start of his fatal action, falls on a Sunday. It would be fitting if Captain Randle’s heroic sacrifice could be remembered in private prayer.
Autumn 2007 at St Peters
St Peter’s is an old church so there are things that mark it out from more recent churches - for example the box pews, the layout of the church (unusually the transepts are longer than the nave) and the Cole Memorial dating from 1624, only 13 years after the Authorised Version, or “King James” bible was published. So he and his wife probably read Tyndale’s bible or Miles Coverdale’s for most of their lives..
Inside the church there are many tablets to past parishioners - Petersham was always a pretty and amenable parish and it attracted wealthy people. Some of the tablets have inscriptions that seem perhaps even incongruous to our ears but they demonstrate what people of their day considered worthy lifestyles and achievements. They bare a record of evolving mores:
“He was a kind husband, an affectionate father, a humane master and a good man” 1779
“Supporting discipline by manly firmness and benevolence“ 1811
“Beloved and regretted” 1830 (hopefully only her passing was regretted!)
“He now rests in the haven where he would be” 1841 (a naval man)
“A mind of high intellect guided by Christian principles and charity” 1847
“His beneficence was bounded only by his means and he laboured in the cause
of charity with earnestness” 1867
“The sea gave up the dead which were in it . . and there was no more sea” 1901
“By his self-sacrifice he saved the lives of many of his men” VC 1944
But St Peter’s is also a very modern church if, by “church” you mean its congregation. It seeks to accommodate different persuasions within the Anglican Church by varying the style and format of services throughout the month. The layout of the church means that one half the congregation faces the other half - you don’t sit looking at a sea of hats and backs of heads. That means that visitors can be spotted and welcomed. And they are.
Also, the congregation positively welcomes children of all ages at the morning services and has a Family Service on the first Sunday of each month. Children are invited to come with their minders to the centre of the church during the first hymn to light a candle (the youngest last year was 8 days old) and at the back of each transept is a special children’s pew with crayons and paper to keep them occupied.
Tim’s sermons are short (well under 10 minutes) and very much to the point. They are well worth concentrating on. You have to listen carefully! The singing of hymns and canticles is heartfelt - led by an enthusiastic amateur choir that sits in the body of the church under (literally) the direction of the organist in the gallery above. Occasionally the organ does it’s own thing on a single note - we hope to replace it soon. It is, after all, much older that we are - 96 to be exact. Occasionally, too, the congregation has to practice a new Sanctus or Gloria written for it by one of its experienced members. Modern music is difficult but, surprisingly, once you've got it you find yourself humming the tune later in the week. Music means a lot in St Peter’s and the acoustics are good which may be why it is so popular for weddings.
But most of all, St Peter’s is a living church with a happy and welcoming congregation. The box pews have their own panel heaters so they are cosy in winter. And you can’t say that about all churches!