Category: Church (Page 113 of 116)

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part Two

August 23, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

While I was in County Wicklow (Contae Chill Mhantáin), as I have earlier reported, I visited two very different monastic ruin sites: Glendalough, where Naomh Caoimhín (St. Kevin) established a “monastic city” in the 6th Century, and Baltinglass Abbey, a Cistercian foundation established in 1148 by Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster. The former is now a very large national park with an impressive visitors center and a four-star hotel; the latter is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the town of Batlinglass in the churchyard of a minor Church of Ireland parish behind a national school, with no accommodation for visitors as all.

St. Mary's - Baltinglass, Church of Ireland, on Whose Grounds the Abbey Is Located

This is the second part of a two-part entry; the first part was a description of my visit to Glendalough. This is a description of Baltinglass Abbey.

Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglass was the second house to be colonized from the Cistercian (also known as “Trappist”) stronghold at Mellifont Abbey. The first was Bective Abbey in Co. Meath founded in 1147.

Mellifont itself was founded in 1142. Known in Irish as An Mhainistir Mhór, literally “the big abbey”, it thrived for 400 years until it was disestablished in 1556. Thereafter, it was used as a Tudor manor house until it was finally abandoned in 1727. New Mellifont Abbey was founded in 1938 and is now an active Trappist monastery. It is located in County Louth, north of Dublin.

Baltinglass was a successful abbey and, in its turn, colonized other foundations, including the more famous Jerpoint Abbey in County Kilkenny in 1180.

Baltinglass Abbey

The construction of the permanent buildings at Baltinglass began only a few years after the initial foundation and the church was raised relatively quickly. The buildings are typical of the Irish versions of the Cistercian Romanesque style.

One of the abbots built himself a “tower house” or castle in the late middle ages, and in 1541 it was reported that Baltinglass owned castles at Graungeforth, Knocwyre, Mochegraunge, Graungerosnalvan, Grangecon, and Littlegraunge among others.

Tower House within Baltinglass Abbey

In the early 16th Century the annual income of the abbey was estimated at £76 in time of war and £126 in peace time. These may not seem like large figures until one considers the comparative value of the pound in the early 16th Century. That pound (actually a monetary unit known as the Angel at the time) would have a current value of £4,910 (or $8,105). Thus, annually the war time income of Baltinglass Abbey would have been £373,000 (about $616,000); peace time income, £620,000 (about $1,023,000). This made Baltinglass one of the richest Cistercian abbeys in Ireland at the time.

Perhaps its financial success is the reason Baltinglass was one of the first five Irish Trappist monasteries suppressed in the first round of closures during Henry VIII’s Dissolution in 1536-37.

Although none of the conventual buildings survive, the abbey church remains relatively unscathed. The church is considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland. The church contains a rich array of carvings, including some with animals and human figures. The northeast crossing pier is decorated with a lion and foliage ornaments. The nave of the church is aisled with alternating cylindrical and square piers, which are of English origin, the bases of which are decorated with a range of unusual designs.

Romanesque Arches at Baltinglass Displaying Decorative Carving

Nave Arches at Baltinglass, Note the Alternating Cylindrical & Square Piers

These were crafted by the so-called “Baltinglass Master” who subsequently worked on the abbey at Jerpoint. A series of tiles have also been discovered at the site; one design depicts a warrior thrusting forward with a circular shield.

Baltinglass Tile showing Ornate Celtic Knotwork

Other features of interest are the bases of two Romanesque doorways in the nave aisle and the well-preserved sedilia in the presbytery.

The Sedilia (Inset Clergy Seating) at Baltinglass Abbey

An odd and very out-of-place addition to the site is a great pyramid style granite mausoleum, built in 1832 as a tomb for the Stratford family who were powerful estate owners in the area.

The Stratford Family Mausoleum

One wonders why, if a leading Irish architecture magazine (Archiseek) has declared that Baltinglass Abbey is “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland,” this site is not better preserved and presented. I have some thoughts, not all of them complimentary to the Irish people or the Irish church….

First, I would note that Baltinglass Abbey was not an indigenous Irish foundation – it was Cistercian, an order from France. Glendalough, on the other hand, was founded by a beloved indigenous, early Celtic saint. Now this alone is not a reason for it to be so ignored in its little corner of Co. Wicklow. There are plenty of well-preserved and better presented Trappist foundations; Baltinglass’s daughter house, Jerpoint Abbey, is one example.

Second, I think it more important in this regard to not that Baltinglass is not held and administered by the Office of Public Works, Heritage Ireland, or another state agency as the better presented sites are. Rather, it is (as noted) on the grounds of a parish of the Church of Ireland. All of the historic church properties of Ireland after the reformation (especially after the dissolution of the monasteries) became the property of the established church – although this country was a part of the English Crown’s domain at the time, this was not the Church of England. Rather the Church of Ireland came into existence as a reformed church independent of the Roman Catholic Church in 1536 when the Irish Parliament declared Henry VIII to be the Supreme Head of the Church on earth (i.e. Head of the Church of Ireland); Henry actually became head of the Irish church before becoming king of the Irish nation! He was not declared King of Ireland until 1541. (Previously, his title, one granted English kings by the Pope, was Lord of Ireland. The declaration that he was King of Ireland was, therefore, part of the Anglo-Irish ecclesio-political reform.)

The Church of Ireland was disestablished by The Irish Church Act of 1896, which empowered the commissioners of the Church of Ireland to transfer all important churches and ecclesiastical buildings into the care of the Irish State, to be preserved as national monuments and not to be used as places of public worship. One hundred thirty-seven ancient buildings, apparently not including Baltinglass Abbey, were listed for transfer to the Commissioners of Public Works. The paramount consideration was the saving of the nation’s architectural heritage. Had Baltinglass Abbey been transferred to the Public Works department, there would be a better chance of it having a better presentation.

Why do I think this would be the case? Two reasons. First, the Church of Ireland is not a wealthy church by any stretch of the imagination. I believe it is incapable of properly funding the support of its aging buildings, especially those which are not in regular use. In my travels around this country, I have been distressed to see the poor state of repair of many Anglican churches. If I were asked (and I haven’t been, admittedly) I would recommend to the Church of Ireland that it undertake a program of building renewal and refurbishment, and in some cases of building divestment – including divesting itself of antiquities it cannot properly maintain.

Second, the Church of Ireland is a minority church; in 2006 (latest year for which I can find statistics) less than 3% of the people of the Irish Republic declared themselves members of the Anglican church here. Nearly 87% declared themselves Roman Catholic. The other ten percent are shared among other Christian traditions and other religious faiths, as well as a large group (more than half the size of the Church of Ireland) who state they are non-religious. Despite being a modern, secular state (although one with heavy involvement from the majority religious body, especially in the area of education), Ireland is a very divided culture.

I remember being in Donegal and asking about the whereabouts of members of the Funston family there or in neighboring counties. The very lovely and gracious lady with whom we were talking was from the village of Pettigo and recalled that there were Funstons living there, “but they weren’t our people,” by which she clearly meant they weren’t Roman Catholic. (As it turned out, the Funstons we did eventually meet were Anglicans.)

I believe this divide deprives Church of Ireland antiquity sites like Baltinglass Abbey of the broader publicity and support they might otherwise get. I was surprised to find that, although there is public signage to other places in the village of Blatinglass (including Roman Catholic churches), there is none indicating where one can find the Abbey! (Remember, this is a place “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland”!) I had to stop at a petrol station to ask how to find it….

I may be wrong … but the difference in the treatment of these two monastic sites in the same county suggests to me that the Republic of Ireland still has a long way to come in the dealing with the divide between “Catholic” and “Protestant” (which Anglicans are here considered to be … and for now I won’t get into that debate).

Nonetheless, having visited both Glendalough and Baltinglass Abbey during my stay in County Wicklow, I give thanks to God for the witness of the men and women who lived and worked in such foundations. I offer in celebration of their faith the closing doxology of the Dánta Dé hymnal, first in Irish and then in translation:

Dennacht ocus étrochta,
Ecna, altugud buide,
A mórnert is comachta
‘Con Ríg comic na huile.

Glóir is cáta is caendúthracht,
Molad, airfitiud adbal,
Rográth ón uile chride
Do Ríg nime ocus talman.

Forsin Trínóid togaide
Ré cách, iar cách, do ellacht
Bennacht ocus bithbennacht,
Bithbennacht ocus bennacht.

And the English translation:

Blessing and radiance,
Wisdom and thanksgiving,
Great power and might,
Be to the King who rules over all.

Glory and honor and sweet-devotion,
Praise and wondrous music
Ardent love from every heart
To the King of heaven and earth.

To the exalted Trinity
Before all, after all, hath pertained
Blessing and eternal blessing,
Blessing-eternal and blessing.

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part One

August 23, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

This will be a two-part entry consisting first of a description of my visit to Glendalough.

The name Glendalough comes from the Irish Gleann Dá Locha, meaning “Glen of Two Lakes”, so as you might guess, the site is quite large. It is encompasses the two lakes, several ruined buildings, and a round tower. I spent nearly three hours there and saw only a small part of site. (It was a cloudy day, so my pictures are rather dark.)

One enters the “monastic city” by way of a gateway which is unique among Irish monastic ruins. Other monasteries or abbeys may have had such gateways, but this seems to be the only one that has been preserved. The gateway originally may have been roofed over for several meters. The gateway signified that one was entering a place of sanctuary or refuge.

Entering the Monastic City through the Gateway

Gateway to Monastic City Seen from within the City

As one enters the monastic city now, what one mostly sees are gravestones. Like nearly all ruined monastic cites (and many ruined churches) it has continued to be considered holy ground and thus an appropriate place for the burial of the faithful. Most of the buildings that would have comprised the city at its largest size were probably thatch-roofed wattle-and-daub structures which are long gone. The monastery in its heyday would have included workshops, areas for manuscript writing and copying, guest houses, an infirmary, and farm buildings and dwelling for both monks and a large lay population. What remain are a few stone structures, including a “cathedral” and a round tower. Most of the surviving buildings probably date from between the 10th and 12th Centuries.

The round tower is constructed of mica-slate and granite; it is about 30 meters high, with an entrance 3.5 meters from the base. At one time it was thought that these high entrances to round towers were for defensive purposes, but it is now believed that they are that high simply to provide the most solid possible foundation for the structure, to prevent leaning or collapse.

Round towers were meant to be seen; they were built to provide a landmark for pilgrims making their way to the monasteries. There are 52 known round towers in Ireland, all associated with monasteries, abbeys, and cathedral churches, places of pilgrimage. They were probably also meant to be heard. The Irish word for a round tower is cloigtheach, which means “bell house”.

The Round Tower at Glendalough

The largest structure on the site is the “cathedral”. It is constructed of mica-shist and granite. It is thought that a smaller structure was replaced in the 12th or 13th Century with the current building.

Interior of the Glendalough Cathedral

A few steps from the front door of the cathedral is “the priest’s house”. The original purpose of this building is unknown, though it is thought that it may have housed the relics of St. Kevin. It’s current name comes from the practice of interring priests here during the 18th and 19th Centuries.

The Priest's House

The only roofed structure on the site is St. Kevin’s Church, also called St. Kevin’s Kitchen. It is a nave-and-chancel church from the 12th century. It has a small round belfry above the west doorway, which apparently was added to the church after the original construction. Only the foundations now remain of the chancel, and beside it still stands the stone-roofed sacristy.

St. Kevin’s Kitchen

Passing St. Kevin’s Kitchen, one makes ones way to the 1.4 km pathway along the mountain-side of the lower lake (a 1.6 km boardwalk path is available along the other side).

Oak Forest through with the Pathway Runs

At the upper lake (which is the prettier of the two lakes) are additional ruins – the Reefert Church, St. Kevin’s Cell (remains of a stone beehive hut), St. Kevin’s Bed (a man-enlarged cave), and Teampall na Skellig (the latter two reachable only by boat) – and natural wonders such as Poulanass Falls.

The Upper Lake

Stream from Poulanass Falls

The only one of these that I visited is the Reefert Church. (My right ankle on which I had Achilles tendon surgery a couple of years ago was complaining by the time I got to the upper lake, so further mountain trails were not inviting). The name derives from Righ Fearta, meaning the burial place of the Kings. Reefert Church is set on the mountain side and is approached by a steep path and a stone stairway.

Reefert Church

I walked back to the monastic city by way of the boardwalk, a longer but easier path.

Boardwalk along the Lower Lake

As one approaches the monastic city, one sees the Round Tower as an approaching pilgrim may have seen it. (In the foreground of the following picture is St. Mary’s Church, a ruin not accessible to visitors.)

The Round Tower Seen from the Boardwalk

St. Kevin’s monastic city thrived from its founding in the 6th Century until it was sacked by English forces in 1398. However it continued as a church of local importance and a place of pilgrimage. Descriptions of Glendalough in the 18th and 19th Centuries include reference to occasions of “riotous assembly” on the feast of St. Kevin (June 3).

Today, it is a tourist attraction as well as a place of pilgrimage. There were tour groups from many nations while I was there (I heard French, Spanish, Italian, and German spoken along the path as I walked between the lakes). There was also a group from Ecuador singing and praying inside the cathedral during my visit. The monastic ruins at Glendalough are an active place!

Not so the ruins at Baltinglass which I will describe in part two of this entry.

Memories and Good-Byes

August 10, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

I received word yesterday that Earl, a long-time parishioner and good friend back home, had passed away. This was not a surprise; he had been diagnosed with lung cancer some months ago and we expected that he would die while I was on sabbatical. Still, it has filled the day with sadness. I think of his wife, his children, his grandchildren, all of whom I know, and I know that today is a hard one for them. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. It’s that simple. Death is never easy.

My father died suddenly and unexpectedly when I was not quite six years old; we weren’t prepared. My mother and step-father both died after long and protracted illnesses; we weren’t prepared either time. My mother-in-law passed away after several years of decline into the living death that is Alzheimer’s Disease; even with that long and difficult course, we weren’t prepared. Through the years other friends and family members have died. Parishioners and parishioners’ loved ones have died and I have officiated at their burials and celebrated the Requiem Masses for the repose of their souls. The one thing all of these passings has taught me … no matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t.

The Irish live with death closer at hand than any other people I’ve encountered. Oh, for sure, there are places where the physical reality of death is nearer at the present; places where famine reigns, places like Somalia and in recent years Ethiopia and other north African countries from which we see the pictures of emaciated corpses and children with malnutrition-distorted bodies. The Irish lived through times like those 165 and more years ago; as the saying goes, they’ve been there, done that.

I’ve written earlier about the famine houses and how they are a living, daily memory of that time. I didn’t write in that entry that in addition to the abandoned homes, there are famine houses that were tombs. Starving families would simply close their door and huddle together in a corner of the house and die. There was no food; there was nothing else to do. (I’m told that there are recorded instances of cannibalism during the famine years. I’ve not read those records myself.) The Irish have been there, done that.

The famine houses are not the only reminders of mortality on this island. There are also the ruins of churches, of small parish churches, of missionary encampments, of great monasteries dating back to the first days of Christianity in Ireland. The names of some are well known: Ballentubber Abbey, a ruin now restored as a parish church and described in another post on this blog; Clonmacnoise in County Offaly which dates from the middle of the 5th Century; the Rock of Cashel, the remains of a 12th Century monastery on a site reputed to have been used by Patrick for the baptism of the kings of Ireland in the 5th Century; Glendalough founded in the Wicklow Mountains by St. Kevin in the 6th Century.

Others are not so well known; Teampall Mhic Ádhaimh (“Church of the Son of Adam”) is a local ruin here on An Cheathrú Rua. Local tradition has it that it was built by a Saint Smochan and archeological and architectural evidence points to a 15th Century construction date. This church is located near the water’s edge at Trá na Reilige (“Beach of the Burial Ground”) at Barr an Doire (“Oaktree Point”).

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Another is Teampall Chaomháin (“St. Kevin’s Church”), the buried church on Inis Oírr, the smallest of the Aran Islands. These churches probably came into ruin as a result of “the Penal Years” when the practice of Roman Catholicism in Ireland was outlawed by the English. They came into ruin, but not disuse.

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Like many local (and monastic) ruins throughout Ireland, these ruined churches were considered holy ground and so they became burial grounds.

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

I wandered through the graveyard at Barr an Doire and photographed some of the gravestones, many carved in beautiful Gaelic text. This one marks the grave of Bairbre Nic Donncha, who died April 20, 1960, her husband Peadar, who followed her two days later, and their son Peadar, who died a few days before Christmas in 1995. The blessing on the marker reads, Ar deis De go raibh anam – A chlann a thog, which means “May their souls be at the right hand of God, their family prays.”

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

The next stands over the tomb of Chóilín Phádraig Pheatsín, who died April 2, 1959, and his wife Nora, who joined him on March 1, 2002. The prayer reads Taispeáin dúinn, a Thiarna, do trócaire agus tabhair do shlánú (“Show us, Lord, your mercy and grant us your salvation”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

And finally this marker over the grave of Bhrid Leainde, who passed away at the young age of 32 in 1959 and was followed by her husband Máirtín, who died at the age of 85 in 1987. I really like the sentiment expressed on this gravestone: Ó bhás go críoch ní críoch ach athfhas i bPárrthas na ngrast go rabhaimíd (“From death to an end not an end but new growth, we go to the Paradise of grace”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Though surrounded by reminders of the deaths of the famine years and by the ruins of churches and the graves they contain, I’m sure Bairbre’s and Peadar’s family, that Chóilín’s and Nora’s children, that Bhrid’s and Máirtín’s loved ones were not prepared for their deaths. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. And yet we are sustained by faith, by the faith that assures us that death is not an end, but the beginning of new growth in a paradise of grace where, through the Lord’s mercy, we enjoy the fruits of salvation and sit at God’s right hand.

There is a poem by Máirtín Ó Direáin inscribed on a stone plaque dated August 2000 at Teampall Chaomháin on Inis Oírr. The plaque includes a verse of scripture (Is mise an t-aiséirí agus an bheatha – “I am the resurrection and the life”) and a prayer (Suaimhneas sioraí dar muintir a d’migh uainn – “Eternal peace to the people who have left us”). The poem is entitled Cuimhní Cinn (“Memories”). I’ve tried to find a translation, but failing that have translated it myself.

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Their memory still lives in my mind:
A white jacket and a bright shirt,
a blue shirt and a green vest,
trousers and drawers of homespun;
our honored old men
traveling to Sunday morning Mass,
a long journey on foot
wakening in my youth my own thoughts:
our ground, our earth, still our blessing.

Their memory still lives in my mind:
Long red choir robes,
blue coats dyed with indigo,
neat knitting women
now in heavy shawls up from Galway
traveling to Mass in the same way;
and although they are going out of fashion
their memory still lives in my mind.
Certainly life will come to me from this land.

Earl’s memory lives in my mind – a tweed sport coat, a purple shirt, two canes, a bushy beard, and ready smile. We knew this was coming, but no matter how prepared for death we believe we are, we aren’t. Being in community, traveling together to Mass memories alive in everyone’s minds, helps us get through that unpreparedness. I’m sorry I can’t be there with our church community to say “Good bye”.

May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

A Word about Signs

August 5, 2011 / eric / 1 Comment

Signs are ubiquitous – they are everywhere! Do you remember that old rock-and-roll song by the Five Man Electrical Band (and I do mean old, like 40 years old!)?

And the sign said “Long-haired freaky people need not apply”
So I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why
He said “You look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do”
So I took off my hat, I said “Imagine that. Huh! Me workin’ for you!”
Whoa-oh-oh

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

And the sign said “Anybody caught trespassin’ would be shot on sight”
So I jumped on the fence and yelled at the house,
“Hey! What gives you the right?
To put up a fence to keep me out or to keep mother nature in
If God was here, he’d tell you to your face, Man, you’re some kinda sinner”

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Now, hey you, mister, can’t you read?
You’ve got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat
You can’t even watch, no you can’t eat
You ain’t supposed to be here
The sign said you got to have a membership card to get inside
Unh!

And the sign said, “Everybody welcome. Come in, kneel down and pray”
But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all,
I didn’t have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and a paper
and I made up my own little sign.
I said, “Thank you, Lord, for thinkin’ ’bout me. I’m alive and doin’ fine.”
Wooo!

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Sign
Sign, sign

They are everywhere! There aren’t a lot of commercial advertising signs in the UK or in Ireland (well, there are a lot in Ireland, but they are mostly small and local). One of my favorites is this on one the local pier (Caladh Tadgh – “the stone pier”):

Sign at Caladh Tadhg, An Cheathrú Rua, Co. na Gaillimhe, Éire

I actually have no idea at all what this sign is saying, but I love the wording of it and all the things it suggests to a strange mind like my own.

Here’s another sign one sees a lot of in this part of Ireland these days:

Irish Real Estate "For Sale" Sign

Le Diol is Irish for “For Sale.” If I had the money, I’d be very tempted to buy one of the properties where a sign like this is posted. (The one in this picture is a bed-and-breakfast property in An Cheathrú Rua. I wonder what it would be like to run a B&B….)

There is a sign one sees in the UK and here in Ireland that is similar to a sign we see along roads in the USA:

UK - Ireland Road Sign showing a Camera

In the States, the sign that is sort of like this (in that it depicts a camera) generally indicates a scenic view-point from which one can take nice photographs. I first saw this sign in southern Scotland, but it never seemed to be at a place where there was anything to see or, if it was, there was never a convenient place to pull over and take a photograph. So I was puzzled by these signs. Since I couldn’t see any scenic view-point pullouts, I began to ignore them.

Then in Derbyshire, I saw the sign together with a sign warning of the presence of pedestrians:

Camera Sign together with Pedestrian Sign

So I was all the more confused. Surely, these signs must be pointing to something worth seeing, and I was missing these scenic views! But there were still no places to pull over where the signs were posted and I didn’t want to just stop in the road way!

Then, near the home of my friends in Penn, High Wycombe, I saw a sign with the same camera image but accompanied by explanatory words:

Speed Cameras Sign

Oh! They aren’t signs about scenic views at all! They are signs warning speeding motorists that they are being photographed and their license plate numbers recorded!

Thank heaven I was driving at or below the speed limit (not always true at home, I admit) in the UK and continue to do so here in Ireland. (Of course, I’m of the opinion that anyone who exceeds the speed limit – or, in some places, even drives as fast as the limit – on these roads is completely nuts!)

The lesson of this sign is that we ignore signs, especially those we don’t really understand, at our own peril. That’s true spiritually as surely as it is in driving through a country not one’s own. Being unable to read a sign reminds me of an incident in Matthew’s Gospel:

The Pharisees and Sadducees came, and to test Jesus they asked him to show them a sign from heaven. He answered them, “When it is evening, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.’ And in the morning, ‘It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times. An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.” Then he left them and went away. (Matthew 16:1-4)

Matthew does not further explain “the sign of Jonah,” but Luke quotes Jesus as explaining the symbolism in his version of this story, “Just as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so the Son of Man will be to this generation.” (Luke 11:30) Generally, the “sign of Jonah,” the witness of Jonah as prophet to the ancient Israelites is taken to mean that if Israel would not repent, God would take away the power and strength he had given them and give it to a another nation or people, and that nation would (in turn) humiliate and punish Israel.

So when we fail to appreciate, to understand and heed those signs that appear in our lives, we run the risk of losing that with which we have been entrusted. We run the risk of losing the ministry and the benefits we have been given, and find ourselves in need. We have all been given gifts, and we are expected to use them to the benefit of others; failing to do this, we run the risk of losing them. “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (Luke 12:48)

Pay attention to the signs in your life!

I’ve not been back to Caladh Tadhg since shooting that first photograph, but when I do I’ll be sure to disinfect!

The Morning Star – Another Musical Bit

August 3, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

I’m experimenting with and learning more about the music software. I’ve put together another selection from the Dantá Dé hymnal which I am calling The Morning Star as a working title. My earliest translation of the lyrics that go with this tune was sung by one of our choristers as a solo at church a couple of years ago; I’m scrapping that translation and starting over. But in the meantime, here’s a simulated four-part choir accompanied by piano with the melody.

The Morning Star

The Blessed Wedding in Cana

August 1, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

There was a wedding on An Cheathrú Rua last week. (By the way, that preposition is correct. One speaks of being on An Cheathrú Rua rather than in it. It is a peninsula, after all.) The groom was a bartender at the pub frequented by our student body and the reception, such as it was (very unlike an American wedding celebration) was held there. Anyone and everyone who happened in was a welcome guest.

I did not have an opportunity to witness the wedding, nor any of the preparations. However, when I was in Ireland in 2008, some friends and I climbed Croagh Padraig, the holy mountain in County Mayo also known as “The Reek”. There is an annual event here called “Reek Sunday” (the last Sunday of July) when the penitent climb the mountain. The truly penitent climb it barefoot. Having climbed it wearing fairly sturdy hiking shoes, I can assure you that that would be a substantial act of penitence; but little old ladies were doing just that when I climbed it (a week after Reek Sunday), and they were going up that slope faster than I was! (The background image on this blog, by the way, is Croagh Pádraig.) The hike up the mountain is in emulation of St. Patrick who is said to have climbed the mountain, cleansed it of druid religious use, and offered the Eucharist on its summit.

Another part of the meditative tradition of Croagh Padraig is to start one’s pilgrimage to the mountain at Ballintubber Abbey. Ballintubber is an Anglicization of Baile tobair Phádraig, “place of the well” – the well in question supposedly being a place where St. Patrick baptized converts. Ballintubber Abbey is about 22 miles from Croagh Padraig, so the full penitential practice is to hike cross-country on the Tóchar Phádraig (“Patrick’s Causeway”) and then climb the mountain.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire

The abbey church has been beautifully restored and is the parish church for the village of Ballintubber. (The church has a lovely website here.) http://www.ballintubberabbey.ie/ My friends and I short-circuited the tradition by attending Mass at the abbey church and then driving from there to the mountain.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire

The grounds of the abbey church are filled with graves and with statuary, some of it very modern and very interesting, especially a set of non-representational Stations of the Cross which are abstract stone work in place of the usual pictures or statues of the fourteen steps of the way of tears; for example, the Ninth Station, Jesus’ Third Fall, is simply a fallen stone whose shape is vaguely suggestive of a human body.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire, Stations of the Cross, No. 9

The most representational of the stations is the Eleventh, the Crucifixion.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire, Stations of the Cross, No. 11

There is also a wonderful statue of the Madonna with her Child. I find the faces and the poses of the pair striking. Mary is, I believe, depicted as strong and sad; she looks both defiant and obedient, as if unwilling to turn loose of her Son and yet aware that that choice is really not hers to make. As she holds him in a cruciform pose, she seems to be both offering and protecting him at the same time. The Christ Child is depicted in the familiar cruciform manner, but his face is turned towards his mother, not toward the viewer as is more typical. He seems almost puzzled by his Mother’s expression.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire, Madonna and Child

I often wonder about the relationship between Mary and Jesus. We get only a few glimpses of it in the Gospels. One of my favorite episodes is the Wedding in Cana related in the Gospel of John:

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” (John 2:1-5, NRSV)

I have long been fascinated and intrigued by the interaction here! Mary simply assumes that Jesus will take action (and that he has the power to do something to solve the problem of no wine). He feels free to respond negatively to her implied direction, “Help them,” but in the end he does as his mother seems to insist and the result is, as John will later call it, “the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee.” (v. 11) This multifaceted relationship (which, I suppose, was not too different from any mother-son relationship) was probably present all during Jesus’ life and is caught well, I believe, in faces of the Madonna and Child at Ballintubber.

The story from John’s Gospel brings me back to the wedding here on An Cheathrú Rua. On that particular Sunday three years ago, the church at Ballintubber was decorated for a wedding, as you can see from the accompanying photographs. Nuptial church decoration here in Ireland is pretty similar to what is done in the United States, which makes a good deal of sense since I suspect we got quite a few of our wedding customs from Irish immigrants and returning Irish probably have brought back a lot of American customs to this island.

Ballintubber Abbey Church, Co Mayo, Éire, Interior, Decorated for a Wedding

Post-wedding celebrations seem to be different – here there was no dancing (at least not in the pub), no toasts, no throwing of a bouquet or a garter, none of the typical elements of an American wedding reception – but what there was here as there is at home was joy and camaraderie, good wishes and good fun. It’s no wonder, given John’s recording of the first miracle and the human experience of wedding celebration, that the Wedding Banquet has become a lasting and indelible image of the reunion God has in store of God’s People and that the Holy Eucharist is referred to theologically as a foretaste of that heavenly banquet.

Dánta Dé includes a communion hymn specifically about the wedding feast. It is entitled The Blessed Wedding at Cana and is attributed to Maighréad ní Annagáin. Here is the original Irish text and Uná ní Ógáin’s translation of it, followed by a very free adaptation by me making use of some of the Irish hymn’s imagery and telling the story from John in meter and rhyme to be sung to the original tune.

First, the Irish original:

Ag an bpósadh bhí i gCána bhí Rí na ngrás ann i bpearsain,
É féin is Muire Máthair, is nárbh áluinn í an bhainfheis?
Bhí cuideacht ós cionn chláir ann, agun fíon orra i n-easnamh,
‘S an t-uisge bhí h-árthaibh nár bh’áluinn é bhlaiseadh?

A Dhia dhíl, a Íosa, ‘s a Rí ghil na cruinne,
D’iomchuir an choróin spíne is iodhbairt na Croise,
A stolladh is a straoilleadh idir dhaoinibh gan cumann,
Na glasa do sgaoilis, a d’iadhadh n’ár gcoinnibh.

Is ró-bhreágh an stór tá ag Rígh na glóire dúinn i dtaisge,
A chuid fola agus feóla mar lón do na peacaigh’.
Ná cuirigidh bhur ndóchas i n-ór bhuidhe nó i rachmas
Mar is bréagán mar cheó é, seachas glóire na bhFlaitheas.

Ms. ní Ógáin’s translation includes a verse not included in the Irish text of the hymnal, the second address to the Blessed Virgin:

At the marriage-[feast] in Cana
Was the King of grace in person,
He Himself and Mary Mother,
Was it not a beauteous wedding?
At the board the guests were seated,
And the wine to them was lacking,
And the water in the vessels
How delightful to taste it.

O Maiden most holy
Who to sin never yielded,
As thou wert a plant descended
From that king(a) who excelled,
[As of old], pray to Jesus,
To the glorious King of Heaven,
That He make a free way(b) for us
When we turn our steps Homewards.(c)

O dear Lord, O Jesu,
And O bright King of the Universe,
Who didst bear the Thorn-Crown,
And the sacrifice of the Cross;
Who was torn and rent asunder
Among men who were loveless,
Thou didst open the bars
That were closed against us.

Splendid is the treasure
Stored for us by the King of Glory;
His own Blood and Flesh [He giveth]
As Food for the sinful.
Put ye not your hope
In yellow gold or riches,
For as mistlike toys compare they
With the glories of Heaven.

Notes:
(c) i.e. David
(b) Lit.: or, ready road.
(c) or : That His Hand the way throw open
For our blessed home-returning.
(Westminster Irish Service-book).

And my poem derived from the Irish hymn:

King of glory,
King of love,
King of graces, guest at a wedding.
With his mother, with his friends,
seated at the marriage feast waiting.
Came the word: “There is a problem!”
Mary told her son to help them.
“What is this to me?” he asked her;
but to servants she was speaking.

“There is no wine
for the feast.
Do as he says, no hesitation.”
Empty vessels standing there
for the rites of purification.
“Fill them,” he says, “with plain water;
and then draw some for the steward.”
“What is this now?” asks the steward,
“Finest wine in the nation!”

Blessed Mary,
Virgin pure,
Mother of God, you knew that even
that your Jesus was the Christ;
that he was the High King of Heaven.
But did you know he would become
the free way for us to our home?
Through baptism buried with him,
we, too, shall all be risen!

O Lord Jesus,
glorious King,
holy savior who bore the Thorn Crown,
you were beaten, crucified,
killed, and buried, layed in the cold ground.
In fulfillment of the promise,
you broke the bars closed against us.
With your own blood you have freed us!
Death is conquered! Life is newfound!

Your own Body
and your Blood
give us sinners true liberation;
Bread of Heaven, Blessed Cup,
holy table, feast of salvation.
Giving blessings beyond measure;
wedding banquet, splendid treasure.
At the marriage feast of the Lamb,
we are God’s new creation!

Dé Domhnach sa Teach Lóistín

July 31, 2011 / eric / 1 Comment

The title of this post means “Sunday in the Boarding House” which is how I have spent this day. I did not go to church today – my choices for worship on An Cheathrú Rua are either Roman Catholic Mass as Gaeilge (“in Irish”) or Roman Catholic Mass as Gaeilge le ceol as Gaeilge (“in Irish with music in Irish”). Since I don’t follow Irish well enough to comprehend the sermon or the music, and I’m not permitted by the Catholic Church’s rules to receive Communion, neither of those options is terribly inviting. There are no non-Roman churches of any sort in this area.

The closest Anglican (Church of Ireland) parishes are St. Nicholas in Galway or the parish in Roundstone. Each is a minimum of 45 minutes driving time away (and could be longer with bad weather or traffic). Traffic was a guarantee in regard to Galway today because this is the last day of the Galway Races, an annual major horse racing event; I drove to Galway yesterday (having forgotten about the races) and experienced huge pedestrian crowds and bumper-to-bumper traffic. In the other direction (which I had driven on Friday) there was weather; today was a rainy, windy day in the Connemara! So I decided to chill and to study all day, which I basically did. Not sure how much of my flashcard review will stick and then become accessible in conversation, but it seemed a good use of the day.

During the afternoon a couple of magpies showed up in the garden outside my window and spent a long time in what appeared to be play. Eurasian magpies are striking birds with contrasting black and white feathers. The black feathers occasionally flash an iridescent green. I didn’t take a picture of them, but here is a picture from Wikicommons showing off the striking contrasting coloring of a magpie in flight.

Eurasian Magpie in Flight (from Wikicommons)

Back now to the studies … flashcard, flashcard, flashcard….

Sunday, a Sermon, and Superstring Theory

July 27, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

Time away from the Irish (the language, not the people)….

On Sunday, 24 July 2011, I left my teach loistín (“boarding house”) and drove the 32 km from An Cheathrú Rua to Galway to attend the Sung Eucharist at the Collegiate Church of St. Nicholas, a church which formerly (pre-Reformation) was the central church of the city. That distinction is now held by the Roman Catholic Cathedral, “The Cathedral of Our Lady Assumed into Heaven and St. Nicholas”. (How the BVM was assumed into St. Nicholas, I have no idea….) But St. Nicholas Collegiate Church, now an Anglican congregation of the Church of Ireland, continues to play a central role in the life of the city. The church has marvelous acoustics and is host to a variety of concerts, dramas, conferences, and other cultural and educational events throughout the year.

Interior of St. Nicholas Collegiate Church, Galway

It also plays the role of providing a place of worship for visiting tourists who do not wish to attend a Roman Catholic Mass. The Sunday morning congregation, especially during the summer, is an aggregation of Irish Anglicans, Protestants of several sorts (many of whom do not speak English), and tourists with little or no religious background at all (some of whom, I sure, wander in on Sunday morning to see the historic church and get “trapped” in the service). Such was the congregation this Sunday.

Interior of St. Nicholas Collegiate Church, Galway (from choir)

I arrived in Galway about one hour before the service, so I went to a local café and had a cup of coffee. Thirty minutes before the service, I made my way to the church and found a seat – not difficult as there were very few people there. A church warden introduced himself and offered me a leaflet which included nearly the entire service with an insert of the hymn lyrics. On learning that I am a priest, he asked if I would read one of the lessons for the day, to which I assented.

One of the transepts of the church has been closed off with a partial glass screen and made into the choir room. The choir was practicing and their music filled the church – it was grand! It put one into a prayerful mood and prepared one to enter into worship.

Transept, St. Nicholas Church, Galway (used as choir room)

About 15 minutes before the service was to start, a woman priest vested for the day began greeting those of us seated in the nave. She was to be the presider in the absence of the rector, who is on holiday this month.

The service started on time with a procession of crucifer, choir, and clergy. Although lay eucharistic ministers would later assist with the distribution of communion, they were not vested and did not process with the altar party. The placement of choir, clergy and altar assistant was interesting and, given that everything is moveable (and moves frequently for various events), I wondered if this is a standard arrangement or if they experiment regularly with different seating plans.

The service followed a fairly familiar pattern, more similar to the American church’s liturgy than were the Church of England services I experienced a couple of weeks ago, although as in the English church, the service began with a confession and absolution before the Gloria in Excelsis. Then there were the reading of the lessons, a sermon, a variant form of the Creed (sort of a Q-&-A format), prayers, the Peace, the offertory, the Great Thanksgiving, the distribution of Holy Communion (at stations, a central position for the Bread from the priest and four cups of Wine), the final blessing, the last hymn and the dismissal. It all followed a familiar and comforting pattern.

Free-standing Altar, St. Nicholas Church, Galway

The lessons for the day were those of the Revised Common Lectionary – from the Hebrew Scriptures the story of Solomon asking God for the gift of wisdom; from the Epistles Paul’s assurance in Romans that nothing can separate us from the love of God; from the Gospel’s Jesus rapid fire mini-parables that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, a buried treasure, a pearl of great price, a net thrown into the sea.

Altar Window, St. Nicholas Church, Galway

The homily admonished us to do as Jesus did and look for God’s reign in the ordinary things, the ordinary places, the ordinary people of our lives. In the course of the homily, the preacher compared the structure of Jesus’ delivery of the parables to that of the Psalms referring to the Hebrew practice of parallelism as “the rhyming of ideas.” That description stuck with me.

Chancel and High Altar, St. Nicholas Church, Galway

Later in the day, I relaxed with a book, The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. In it, describing the findings of quantum mechanics as an introduction to a discussion of superstring theory, the author writes:

Even in an empty region of space – inside an empty box, for example – the uncertainty principle says that the energy and momentum are uncertain: They fluctuate between extremes that get larger as the size of the box and the time scale over which it is examined get smaller and smaller. It’s as if the region of space inside the box is a compulsive “borrower” of energy and momentum, constantly extracting “loans” from the universe and subsequently “paying” them back. But what participates in these exchanges in, for instance, quiet empty region of space? Everything. Literally. Energy (and momentum as well) is the ultimate convertible currency. E=mc2 tells us that energy can be turned into matter and vice versa. Thus if an energy fluctuation is big enough it can momentarily cause, for instance, an electron and its antimatter companion the positron to erupt into existence, even if the region was initially empty! Since this energy must be quickly repaid, these particles will annihilate one another after an instant, relinquishing the energy borrowed in their creation. And the same is true for all other forms that energy and momentum can take – other particle eruptions and annihilations, wild electromagnetic-field oscillations, weak and strong force-field fluctuations – quantum-mechanical uncertainty tells us the universe is a teeming, chaotic, frenzied arena on microscopic scales.

As I read this I was reminded of the first words of Holy Scripture:

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Transfiguration Window, St. Nicholas Church, Galway

People ask why I read books on particle physics, quantum mechanics, and string theory for relaxation. I really don’t have a good answer, and I have to admit that a lot of what I read, though it fascinates me, goes right over my head! But, for reasons which are probably beyond anyone’s comprehension, including my own, my idea of relaxing reading is exactly the sort of stuff that bored me to tears 40+ years ago – physics books. In the new understandings of quantum mechanics, superstring theory, the multiverse speculation, and other work seeking the “theory of everything” (or “TOE” as Greene and others call it), I see science converging with religion. As microscopic physics gets “weirder” (Greene’s term, again), it seems to me it gets more theological, as well. Every so often a passage strikes, if you will, a theological cord. This was one of them … the description of even empty space as “teeming, chaotic, frenzied” seems to me to echo, to “rhyme” (to use the preacher’s term) with the idea of the writer of Genesis that “a wind from God” (the Holy Spirit) sweeps over creation. Numerous theologians have taken off from this Genesis account to assert that the Holy Spirit “enthuses” all things; that the wind from God blows through and within all of creation … even empty space. How great it is that science’s new understanding of empty space as “teeming” and “frenzied” rhymes with faith’s vision of empty space as filled with God’s wind!

In Sunday’s sermon, the preacher reminded us to seek God in the everyday stuff of life. As scientists probe the “weirdness” of the smallest dimensions of everyday stuff, I think they’re doing just that … seeking God. They may be calling it the search for the TOE, but to from my perspective it’s just a variation of the same search human beings have been on for millennia, the search for meaning.

Baptismal Font, St. Nicholas Collegiate Church, Galway

And now … back to the Irish.

A Music Sample

July 18, 2011 / eric / 1 Comment

This is a sample of the music I am arranging. This hymn is called Holy Trinity Protect Me. I made this audio with Sibelius 6 and converted the Sibelius audio to MP3 format. I’m having some difficulty getting it to play in the Firefox on my MacBook Pro, but it plays fine in Safari. Hopefully, it will play in whatever browser you are using. The link will open a new tab or a new window depending on how your browser treats the target=”_blank” attribute in the link tag.

Úna ní Ógain arranged this for soprano accompanied by piano – I’ve arranged it for SATB choir – the audio from Sibelius makes use of synthesized voices and, of course, does not include the words.

Holy Trinity Protect Me

St. Bartholomew’s Wilmslow – 13 July 2011

July 16, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

Let’s back up a few days and consider St. Bartholomew’s Church in the Parish of Wilmslow; it is one of two congregations in the Parish, the other being St. Anne’s Church. Though I visited both, I was able only to get photographs at the first.

A church has been on the site of St. Bartholomew’s building since 1264, but the current building was built in the early 16th Century; all that remains of the earlier structure is a crypt below the altar of the current church. The current building also incorporates a structure from the 1400s which now forms the base of the church’s bell tower. The building is made of local sandstone which the Parish’s guidebook acknowledges is “weather-blackened”; I rather think the black discoloration is more from industrial pollution than simply from the “weather”. Wilmslow is quite close to Manchester, center of the English Industrial Revolution, and has its own very large cotton mill which used coal-fired steam to power its spinning jennies and looms; coal smoke is most likely the cause of the blackening.

This photo was taken from the city park across the street. One enters the building through a porch to the viewer’s left; the altar and crypt are at the end to your right.

St. Bartholomew's, Wilmslow

One enters the church grounds through the “lichgate”, although there are other entrances as well. I’m told that all funeral processions begin here, the officiant leading the pall bearers with the casket and the congregation following behind. According to the dictionary, a lichgate is “a roofed gate to a churchyard, formerly used as a temporary shelter for the bier during funerals.”

St. Bartholomew's, Wilmslow, Lichgate

I visited the church on a Wednesday morning just a few minutes before the midweek Eucharist. I had limited time to take pictures and, with church people preparing prayerfully for worship, forebore using flash. As a result many of my interior pictures simply didn’t turn out.

On entering the church one finds a very dark interior, typically English Gothic but with Victorian emmandations which, frankly, are a detraction! I apologize for the blurriness of this photo; given the dark lighting conditions, it was the best I could get. Notice in the ceiling a larger-than-usual golden boss (a blur really, sorry). I tried to get a picture of this, but none came out. Such bosses, whether stone or wood, usually depict stylized flowers or angels … this one is the Devil! According to the church’s history, “It is meant to show the Devil nailed in perpetuity to the roof and obliged to listen helplessly to the congregation insistently singing the praises of God.”

`St. Bartholomew's, Wilmslow, interior

Notice the screen separating the congregation from the choir and chancel; although part of this is an original 16th Century rood screen, it was incorporated into an 1865 restoration in which all the pews in the church were replaced by the current pews and this “vestry chapel” in the choir was installed. This provided “more dignified” seating and a place for the governing board to meat. The individual, upholstered seats are labeled with brass plaques inscribed in Latin for the various offices of the board.

St. Bartholomew's, Wilmslow, interior

The church council has tried get permission from the diocese and the historical preservation authorities to remove this chapel, moving the seats to exterior walls and the screen to the base of the bell tower in order to restore a more original appearance to the church; unfortunately, that permission has been denied. If the screen were moved to the bell tower, a floor could be built at the same height as its top on which the bell ringers could stand; as things are now, the bell ringers stand on the ground floor and thus block entrance through the main door which is in the bell tower.

In the bell tower is an engraved stone plaque bearing these words: “John, son of Robert and Penelope Hunt, was killed by the first bell on Sunday, August the 30th 1767.” Apparently, the 13-year-old boy was fatally injured when the treble or smallest of the six bells broke loose from its mounting and fell on him! Those six bells are still in use today.

I was able to take pictures of some of the stained glass windows and here are a few of those.

St. Bartholomew's, Wilmslow, interior

I was unable to film the crypt, which is a very small, cramped space below the altar. It is believed to date from the original 13th Century church. In more modern times it fell into disuse, was filled with rubble and forgotten. During repairs to the church in the 1970s, it was rediscovered. In 1979, the Lebanese Consul in Manchester, Christian Emile Fadil, paid for its restoration in memory of his late wife. Now a chapel, the altar there is made of Lebanese cedar and on the wall are three glass panels engraved with golden lettering reading, “Pease I give unto you” in English, Arabic, and Hebrew. It has become the custom of the church that, following the Saturday evening Easter Vigil service, the clergy of the parish and others who wish to join them keep the rest of the overnight vigil in this chapel until the festival service on Easter morning.

St. Bartholomew’s is a lovely church building which evidences the faith of generations, even centuries of Wilmslow’s residents. It shows how each generation alters the church building to meet its needs to make the structure a more suitable tool for the ministry appropriate to their circumstance. It is, I believe, unfortunate that those more interested in historic preservation than in living ministry are blocking the current congregations efforts to continue in that tradition. As I was discussing this situation with my friend who is on the congregation’s ministry team, I was reminded of Jaroslav Pelikan’s aphorism, “Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.”

Category: Church (Page 113 of 116)

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part Two

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part One

Memories and Good-Byes

A Word about Signs

The Morning Star – Another Musical Bit

The Blessed Wedding in Cana

Dé Domhnach sa Teach Lóistín

Sunday, a Sermon, and Superstring Theory

A Music Sample

St. Bartholomew’s Wilmslow – 13 July 2011

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