Category: Religion (Page 115 of 118)

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 Visit to Inis Oírr

July 25, 2011 / eric / 6 Comments

On Saturday, 23 July 2011, the students of the Acadamh na hOllscolaíochta Gaeilge boarded a bus, traveled 45 minutes to Ros á Mhil, boarded a ferry (Banrion na Farraige, “Queen of the Sea”) and journeyed to the smallest of the Aran Islands. Inis Oírr (Inisheer), a name derived from Inis Oirthir meaning “island of the east”, is the most eastern of the islands. About 3 square kilometres in size, Inis Oírr is a walker’s paradise. Posts with a “walking man” symbol mark a route around the island which can be completed in about four hours; we didn’t have quite that amount of time and covered only about half of the trail.

The island is a limestone pavement rising to a highest point of 60 meters above sea level. The flora and fauna include many extremely rare species, some of which are under conservation order. Fifty-seven species of birds, thirty-two kinds of wildflower and grass (including a species of darnell grass and one of cornflower found nowhere else), and three types of bumblebee share the island with about 250 human beings.

The heights of Inis Oírr seen from the island's pier

Inis Oírr has been inhabited for more than 5,000 years; arrowheads and flint from the Stone Age have been recovered at various locations on the island. Later evidence, from the Bronze Age, comes from urns and bones excavated at a burial site called Cnoc Raithní (“hill of ferns”).

Christianity came to the islands before the end of the first millennium. Near the swimming beach next to the ferry pier is the island’s graveyard. Here one finds the buried church called Teampall Chaomhain (“St. Caomhan’s church”). This is a 10th Century church said to have been founded by St. Caomhan (“Kevin”), a disciple of St. Enda the Patron Saint of the Aran Islands. (This St. Kevin is said to be the older brother of the St. Kevin who founded the monastic community at Glendalough.) The church was nearly buried by drifting sands, but has now been excavated and is kept clear of sand by the residents. It is a beautiful and peaceful place looking out over the ocean.

Further inland is Cill Ghobnait (“St. Gobnait’s church”) or Teampall Beag (“small church”) which was built in 11th Century and is dedicated to Saint Gobnait. It is built on a site which may have had an early church from before the 9th Century and does include the remains of a clochán or hermit’s beehive cell. Although Saint Gobnait is linked to Ballyvourney in County Cork, she is believed to have been a native of County Clare (the closest mainland county to the islands). The islanders believe she fled to Inis Oírr and lived in the clochán. (What she may have been fleeing from, we were not told.) Around the ruins of the church here three outdoor altars (which may mark graves), two bullaun stones, and the clochán. (Bullaun stones are basically holy water fonts. Local folklore often attaches religious or magical significance to them, including the belief that rainwater collecting in a bullaun stone’s hollow has healing properties.)

Cill Ghobnait - Teampall Beag

Altar of St. Gobnait's Church

Stone altar outside St. Gobnait's Church and Bullaun Stone

Remains of clochán or hermit's beehive hut at St. Gobnait's Church

In medieval times, the Aran Islanders lived in “chiefdoms”, the largest example of this is the hillfort at Dún Aonghasa on Inis Mór. The Aran Island chiefs were powerful and wealthy men who controlled the western sea passages; they contracted with the merchants of Galway keep the approaches to Galway Bay free from pirates in exchange for protection money, but apparently were not against a bit of pirating themselves. The islands became known as a haven for foghlaí mara (“sea plunderers”, i.e., pirates).

In the 14th Century, Inis Oírr became a base of the powerful O’Brien family and Caislean Uí Bhriain (“O’Brien’s Castle”) on was built here. The castle was taken from the O’Briens by the O’Flaherties of Connemara in 1582. It was occupied by them and others until 1652, when the Aran Islands were surrendered to Cromwellian forces.

O'Brien's Castle

In the early 19th Century, it was feared that Napoleon might invade Ireland and watchtowers and Martello towers were built all around the island nation, including a watchtower on Inis Oírr. The French never came and the watchtower became a school and an additional building was built next to it. Children would be schooled for the first several years in this local school and then would travel by boat to schools on the other islands or to the mainland.

Napoleonic era watchtower

School building constructed next to, and incorporating, watchtower

Inis Oírr’s history is strongly linked to the sea; the sea provided food for islanders to live on, and protected them from famine. The cargo vessel Plassey was shipwrecked off Inis Oírr in the 1960s, and has since been thrown above high tide mark at Carraig na Finise (a beach) on the island by strong Atlantic waves. The islanders rescued the entire crew from the stricken vessel, the wreckage of which has become a tourist attraction on the island. Unfortunately, with our limited time we were unable to see the ship wreck.

This marks my third visit to the Aran Islands. Evelyn and I visited Inis Mór, the largest, in 2007; I visited Inis Meán with another class from the language school in 2008; and I have now made this visit to Inis Oírr. Although the 21st Century has certainly come to these islands (automobiles and diesel tractors are found on all of them; cell phone reception is superb; one assumes the residents have access to the internet), there is still something timeless and ancient about them. Life clearly moves a different pace. Travel writer A.J. Neudecker has said that “Little Inisheer … is bottled tranquility.” I can see how two or three days on this island would be very restful!

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

The Holiness of Creation – 17 July 2011

July 17, 2011 / eric / 1 Comment

It is said that there are forty shades of green in Ireland … there are probably more. There seem also to be at least that many shades of gray in the skies of Ireland the past couple of days. Since my arrival here, there have been clouds, wind, and rain. Irish words I learned three years ago come easily to mind: scamallach (cloudy), gaofar (windy), báisteach (rain).

Today, the wind is blowing hard enough that the trees and bushes in the front yard of my teach lóistin (boarding house) are bent far over and whipping about violently. The clouds, seeming low enough to touch, race by overhead, and throughout the day sheets of rain – some of hard, coarse droplets; some of sharp, stinging mist – have come and gone. From time to time a seagull struggles to move against the wind finding ways to travel into the blustery headwind, knowing instinctively when to rise, when to dive, when to tack.

The Windblown Skies of An Cheathrú Rua

My housemates are away today – the Acadamh has offered a bus tour to Ros Muc and the cottage in which Patrick Pearce, a hero of the founding of the modern Republic, spent his life. I have made this journey before and so I have opted not to take today’s bus ride. It has given me a chance to study grammar, review vocabulary flash-cards, and read a bit.

But the rain beats against the window and the wind blows so hard the house, though solidly built of concrete block and stone, vibrates; I am constantly distracted by this weather. “Tá an aimsir go-holc,” exclaims the bean-a-ti (literally “woman of the house”, the term – pronounced “BAN-uh-tee” – means both “housewife” and “landlady”). Yes, I think, the weather is wretched.

Olc is an interesting word: its basic meaning is “evil”, but it is used in a variety of ways which would be supplied by different words in English. (Go-holc is a form which would be translated into English by the addition of the adverb “very” to adjective.) It can be used to describe anything from simple “bad luck” to “wretched weather” to “moral evil”. Similarly, a word used to described good weather, álainn, can mean “beautiful”, “delightful”, or “perfect”.

I have been convinced for some time that a people’s spirituality is informed by their language, by its structures, by its grammar, by the alternative meanings of words.

It would, I think, be unlikely to find an English speaker describing the weather as “evil” – wretched, perhaps, and bad, certainly – but “evil” is a term we would reserve for other uses, to describe that which is morally reprehensible, something which can’t be said of the weather. Similarly, while we might describe the weather as “perfect” for some activity, we would not generally describe the weather as simply perfect in its own right.

Thinking of these descriptive terms for the weather I am reminded of a verse of scripture, Matthew 5:48, perhaps most familiar in its King James Version form: “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” Although álainn is not the word used in the Irish bible’s version of this admonition of Christ, I can’t help but think that the secondary meaning of the word might suggest to the Gaelic soul a link between the occasional perfection of nature and the perfection of God (or, negatively, between the “evil” of the weather and the Evil One).

Celtic Christianity views the mission of Christ less as a “redemption” of a “fallen” creation than as the “completion” of an “incomplete” creation. I believe the use of these morally and spiritually charged adjectives to describe the weather and to describe nature has contributed to the spirituality which informs this theology. There is a hymn in Dánta Dé which sings the praises of the holiness of all nature and is reflective of this Celtic spirituality.

First, the Irish:

Naomhtha cearda Mhic Mhuire;
Naomhtha ó thus A thrócaire;
Naomhtha grian is neoil nimhe,
Dhá fhiadh eoil na h-aimsire.

Naomhtha a bhfuil thall n-a thigh,
Naomhtha gach dúil dá dhúilibh,
Naomhtha an ré a’s na réaltain,
Naomhtha an Té ó dtaisbéantar.

Naomhtha na síona saobha,
Naomhtha an fhearthain Abraona;
Naomhtha an tsoinionn go ngné ghil,
Naomhtha doinionn Dé dúiligh.

Naomhtha ceathra na cruinne,
Naomhtha cloche ‘s caomh-dhuille,
Naomhtha an teine, giodh h-í ain,
‘S gach ní eile dá n-abraim.

Naomhtha an ghaoth lonn ag labhairt,
Naomhtha fairrge ‘s fíormamaint;
Naomhtha gach aon-mhaith d’ar fhégh,
Naomhtha ‘n éanlait ‘san aedhir.

Naomhtha na coillte fá chnáibh,
Naomhtha an fhíneamhain abaidh,
Naomhtha gach toradh dá dtig,
Naomhtha an talamh ó a dtáinig.

Naomhtha an tráigh ‘s an tuile,
Naomhtha fás na fiodhbhaidhe,
Gníomha naomhtha learg is luibh,
Naomhtha an Ceard do cruthaigh.

Naomhtha fós fóghar na dtonn,
Naomhtha siúbhal na srothann,
Naomhtha an riasg fraochdha ‘s an féar
Naomhtha an t-iasg ‘san aigéan.

Naomhtha A thionsgnamh ‘a A thoil,
Naomhtha oibreacha ‘n Athair,
Naomhtha A cheard ‘s A chreidiomh,
Naomhtha A fhearg ‘s A fhoighideadh.

Naomhtha teaghlach A thoighe,
Naomhtha an Trionóid tóguidhe,
Naomhtha A iomrádh ag gach aon
Naomhtha ró-ghrádh A ró-naomh.

And the English translation by Úna ní Ógáin:

Holy are the works of the Son of Mary
Holy, from the beginning, His mercy,
Holy the sun and the clouds of heaven,
Two guides of knowledge of the seasons;

Holy all yonder in His House,
Holy each creature of His creatures,
Holy the moon and the stars,
Holy He from Whom they are revealed.

Holy the wild tempests,
Holy the rain of April,
Holy the fair-weather, with bright looks,
Holy the rough-weather of God the Creator.

Holy are the quadrupeds of the Universe,
Holy the stones and the gentle leaves,
Holy the fire, though it be destructive,
And all else of which I speak.

Holy the strong wind’s speech,
Holy, sea and firmament,
Holy, each good thing which was recounted,
Holy the birds in the air.

Holy the woods bearing clusters,
Holy the ripe vine,
Holy each fruit that cometh,
Holy the earth whence it came.

Holy are the shore and the wave,
Holy the growth of the woods;
Holy works are hillock and herb,
Holy the Artificer Who created them.

Holy too the voice of the waves,
Holy the travelling of the streams,
Holy the wild moor and the grass,
Holy the fish in the ocean.

Holy are His designs and His will,
Holy, the works of the Father,
Holy His workmanship and His faith,
Holy His anger and His patience.

Holy the household of His house,
Holy the exalted Trinity;
Holy, for all, to converse of Him,
Holy, the great love of His great saints.

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.”

Shrewsbury Abbey – 12 July 2011

July 14, 2011 / eric / 5 Comments

Several years ago a woman named Edith Mary Pargeter began writing a series of murder mysteries set in the Middle Ages under the pseudonym of Ellis Peters. The “detective” protagonist of these mysteries was a monk named Cadfael. When dramatized by the BBC the actor Derek Jacobi played Brother Cadfael. Brother Cadfael’s monastic community was Shrewsbury Abbey, which is a real place. The abbey church of Shrewsbury Abbey still stands and is a functioning congregation of the Church of England. I visited the Abbey Church the morning of 12 July 2011.

Initially a small Saxon church, the Church of Saints Peter and Paul which was founded by Roger de Montgomery, a relative of William the Conqueror in 1083. It subsequently became a Benedictine Abbey and during the following 450 or so years it grew to become one of the most important and influential abbeys in England. In 1147, the relics of a Welsh Saint, Winefride, were brought to the Abbey and his shrine became an important place of pilgrimage. In 1283, the first English Parliament in which the Commons had a legal share took place in the Abbey Chapter House, and in 1398 Richard II summoned the Great Parliament in the Abbey. The Abbey was surrendered to the Crown in January of 1540 when Henry VIII disestablished the monasteries. Although much was destroyed, the nave continued to serve, as it does today, as the place of worship for the Parish of the Holy Cross.

In the nineteenth century plans for restoration of the Abbey were drawn up, but financial constraints compelled the building of only part of the plan; everything to the east of the pulpit and lectern are the work of the Gothic Revival architect John Loughborough Pearson, best known for designing Truro Cathedral; his work dates from 1886. The Pearson plans were put on hold and never completed because of the intervention of World War I.

Here are some pictures of the church:

This is the façade of the church seen from the small car park for the church staff:

Facade of Shrewsbury Abbey Church

This is the side of the church along which a major highway now runs (in the city of Shrewsbury this street is called Abbey Foregate, but it is national highway A5191 with lots of traffic). This would have been the side on which the cloister, dormitory, and other living spaces of the monastic community were built; you can see the ragged edges where the broken-down walls once adjoined the structure. The building is made of a red sand-stone native to the Shropshire area.

The interior of the church is quite large and spacious and, despite the dark stone from which it is built, natural light from the clerestory windows makes it quite bright. A very handsome painted reredos in the chancel (with a much gilt) fairly glows, and below it the altar is draped with a heavily embroidered frontal:

Nave of Shrewsbury Abbey Church

Reredos of Shrewsbury Abbey Church

Altar Frontal, Shrewsbury Abbey Church

Around the side aisles of the church are tombs, such as these. The first picture is the tomb of a medieval priest; the second, of an Elizabethan couple.

Medieval Tomb, Shrewsbury Abbey Church

Elizabethan Tomb, Shrewsbury Abbey Church

There are numerous stained glass windows, old and new, such as these two. The first dates from the Middle Ages and shows the Adoration of the Magi; the second is of quite recent vintage and celebrates the Brother Cadfael series!

Adoration of the Magi Window, Shrewsbury Abbey Church

Brother Cadfael Window, Shrewsbury Abbey Church

The ladies of Shrewsbury Abbey church were quite gracious when I visited. They have a small shop set up just inside the entrance to the church and a small coffee and tea bar at the rear of the left aisle. It was quite astonishing and rather funny to see a kitchen sink and countertop with modern appliances set up right next to an Elizabethan tomb, but this sort of “repurposing” is something the church needs to do and needs to do more frequently!

As I was about to leave, one of the ladies asked where I was from. I said, “Near Cleveland in the state of Ohio.” “Of course, you’re from America,” she said, “you such a lovely accent!” I nearly burst out laughing … I thanked her and went on my way, hoping to see a neolithic ring fort at Old Oswestry about an hour away. Unfortunately, road construction, indecipherable signage, and a GPS error made that impossible.

Visiting Wilmslow

July 12, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

I’ve driven from Hay-on-Wye to Wilmslow (near Manchester) to visit friend Sally M. She’s taken me on a whirlwind tour of the area focusing on the two churches of the Parish, St. Bartholomew’s and St. Anne’s. Both lovely church facilities. Take a look at their website, which includes a virtual tour of the older church (St. Bartholomew’s).

One the way, I stopped in Shrewsbury and saw the Abbey, then drove on to Oswestry where I had planned to visit the neolithic round fort at Old Oswestry, but somehow got lost and never made it.

Now I’m here for my last night in England (tomorrow I’ll be back in Scotland and the next day off to Ireland). More later….

My Day in Wales (Part 3)

July 11, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

This post concludes the tale of this day begun in Part 1 and continued in Part 2.

Llanthony Priory was a monastery of Augustinian Canons nine miles south of Hay-on-Wye. St. David is said to have lived in the area as a hermit, but this tradition lacks confirmation.

The story of the Priory is that around the year 1100 the ruins of a chapel and cell, supposed to have been that occupied by St. David, were discovered by a retainer of Hugh de Lacy, Baron of Herefordshire, named William. He thereupon decided to quit the world and become a hermit himself. He was later joined by Ernisius, chaplain to Queen Maud, wife of Henry I. These two anchorites became famous and their story reached Baron de Lacy, who in 1107 founded and endowed a monastery for them, dedicated to St. John the Baptist. The rule of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine was adopted. In the course of time, the severity of the climate, the poverty of the soil, and the persecution of the Welsh natives combined to make life there impossible. In 1134 the entire community, numbering about forty, abandoned the monastery and took refuge in the palace of Robert, Bishop of Hereford. After two years a new monastery was built for them near Gloucester by Milo, Earl of Hereford, which was called Llanthony Secunda. Only a few canons lived from time to time in the original monastery, and both houses were governed by one prior, who resided at Gloucester.

The buildings at Llanthony fell gradually into decay and passed into private hands when Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in 1539. In 1807 the property was bought by Walter Savage Landor. It still belongs to his descendents, the habitable portion of it having been added to and converted into an inn during Queen Victoria’s reign. The church is in ruins, but the western towers, part of the central one, and some of the nave piers and arches are standing.

Here are a few pictures of Llanthony Priory taken today, 11 July 2011:

Llanthony Priory, Black Mountains, Wales

And this is the Inn built into the Priory ruins by the Landor family:

Victorian Inn at Llanthony Priory, Black Mountains, Wales

There is also a functioning Anglican Church in Wales parish church on the site of the Priory, St. Davids, Llanthony. The structure first seen in this picture is a cottage attached to the church, presumably intended to be the vicarage:

St Davids Parish Church, Llanthony, Wales

This is the interior of the church:

Interior of St Davids Parish Church, Llanthony, Wales

Notice the pulpit … it is built into the wall and cannot be accessed from the congregation’s side of a wall and arch that separates the congregation from the choir and chancel.

Pulpit of St Davids Parish Church, Llanthony, Wales

I entered the pulpit through this door. I almost couldn’t fit in and getting back out was a really spine-bending challenge!

Pulpit Doorway of St Davids Parish Church, Llanthony, Wales

All things considered, it was a good day in Wales. After visiting the parish church, I made my way back to the B&B in Hay-on-Wye by way of a “single track lane with passing areas” about which I’ve written earlier.

My Day in Wales (Part 2)

July 11, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

I left Llantwit Major, where I had surveyed the Church of St. Illtud (see My Day in Wales (Part 1)), and having given serious consideration to driving the 101 miles from there to St. David’s where the primatial Cathedral of the Church in Wales is located, I set out to do just that. It really is a lovely cathedral and there are well-preserved ruins of a monastery founded by St. David there. (Here is a link to the Cathedral’s website.) I got onto the M4 motorway and started driving west, but a little bit beyond Swansea, stopping for petrol and a Diet Coke, discretion got hold of me and I realized that I really didn’t want to spend two hours driving there and then to face three hours getting back to Hay-on-Wye. So I went back to my original plan, which was to drive to the village of Penderyn and visit the only whisky distillery in Wales.

I didn’t take any photos at the distillery; I simply enjoyed the tour in the company of an American family from Florida and their friends from Wales. The whisky at Penderyn was lovely – if you ever have a chance to sample any, do so. They have three finishes – standard, which is aged before bottling in bourbon barrels then finished in madeira casks; sherry, which is aged in the bourbon barrels then finished in sherry casks; and “peated”, which is aged and finished in barrels previously used for Laphroig Scotch. Penderyn is not the first whisky made in Wales. Welsh monks made whisky in the middle ages, but the practice died out. The last commercial distillery before Penderyn was R. J. Lloyd Price’s Welsh Whisky Distillery Company established in 1887 at Frongoch. However, it was not a success and was sold in 1900 to William Owen of Bala for £5,000. The company made its last batch of bottled whisky in 1903 and was finally liquidated in 1910. That last batch met with an ignoble end when the horse cart it was being carried on fell over and all the bottles except two were smashed! One of the two is at the Penderyn Distillery today and the other is supposedly owned by Prince Charles, the Prince of Wales. However, our guide told us that the Prince’s steward is reportedly unable to locate the bottle! The bottle at Penderyn is on display and we were told that it is believed that, at auction, it would fetch a price of £300,000! For one liter of whisky! (The Frongoch product must have been pretty good … a cask of it was given to Queen Victoria by the local lodge of Freemasons when she visited the area in 1900 and she is reported to have gone through it rather quickly.)

The Penderyn products are pretty good, too! They didn’t have any of the peated available for tasting, but the standard and the sherry were delightful. They also make a gin and a vodka. Not being a vodka drinker I didn’t try that, but the gin is superb. More like the Dutch oude jenever than a traditional English dry gin. (The distillery has a very good and informative website which I invite you to view for yourself.) I only tasted very small sips of these spirits because, after all, I was on the road and still had to drive to Llanthony Priory and then back to Hay-on-Wye.

Driving through Wales today, I was struck by contrasts. From Cardiff to Swansea and beyond the M4 motorway is a broad, modern expressway on which cars and lorries zip along at 70 mph. Actually, many race by at even faster speeds. I’ve gotten the impression that in the United Kingdom “speed limits” are really “speed suggestions”…. Off of the motorway, on roads labeled as “A” roads, it’s a somewhat different story. “A” roads are two lane highways (one each direction) which back in the States (or at least in Ohio where I now live) would have a speed limit of no more than 45 mph and in many places, 35 mph. Here they generally are posted at 60 mph! And then there are “B” roads … these can be anything from something equivalent to a city residential street back home to a cow path!

My friends Ruthie and Clive live in Tylers Green, Penn, Buckinghamshire. To get to their home, my GPS (or “sat nav” as they are called here in the UK) directed me up a street called “Cock Lane” at the beginning which was a sign saying, “Single Lane Track with Passing Areas” … and that’s exactly what it is. I traveled on another road today with the same sign on display. Here’s few photos of that road taken from the driver’s viewpoint in my car:

Single Lane Track with Passing Areas, Black Mountains, Wales

The speed limit along here, by the way, is 30 mph! I did not drive anywhere near that speed; to travel these 9.2 miles took me 45 minutes. I met several vehicles coming the other way and often one or the other of us would have to stop and back-up to find a “passing area” where the other waved a thank you and we each went our way.

Single Lane Track with Passing Areas, Black Mountains, Wales

This particular single lane track with passing areas runs from Llanthony Priory to just outside Hay-on-Wye, a distance of 9.2 miles. Shortly after I took the photos above, the road got even narrower, and darker as trees growing along side arched over it forming a verdant tunnel. But then, rather quickly and unexpectedly, the roadside bushes and trees just disappeared and though the road got no wider, the vista broadened considerably.

Single Lane Track with Passing Areas, Black Mountains, Wales

I was in a mountain valley that was lush and green and filled with grazing sheep. It reminded me of the scenery in that great old movie starring Maureen O’Hara, Walter Pidgeon, and Barry Fitzgerald, How Green Was My Valley, a movie about growing up in a Welsh mining community (a young Roddy McDowall played a principal character). I don’t know where that movie was filmed, but my B&B host tells me that the area I drove through was where the outdoor scenes of another movie were filmed – An America Werewolf in London!

High mountain valley, Black Mountains, Wales

Sheep Grazing, Black Mountains, Wales

Shortly after I stopped to take the pictures above, I rounded a curve, topped a summit, and was treated to a breathtaking view of the Wye River valley. Even though the day was overcast at the time, the view was magnificent.

Wye Valley from Black Mountains summit, Hay-Llanthony Road

I was on this road driving from Llanthony Priory in the Black Mountains to my B&B in Hay-on-Wye. In the third and final installment of this description of my day in Wales, I’ll have pictures of the Priory. See My Day in Wales (Part 3).

Driving this sort of road (or any road, for that matter) is one of the times when I especially pray for God’s protection. In Dánta Dé there is a morning hymn (described as a ceol na ndaoine or “folk music”) which seeks God’s protection as “king of the graces” when “in each way that I shall take in the road that I wish to go.” First, the Irish Gaeilge:

A Rí na ngrás thug slán mé ó oidhche aréir,
Buidheachas naomhta do gnat do Rí na gCréacht;
Do bhrigh Do Pháise, a Árd-Mhic, dídean mé saor
Ó ghníomharthaibh Shátain gach lá is go críc mo shaoghail.

‘Athair na gcómhacht fóir mé ó phéist an uilc
Anns gach anach a ngeóbhad san ród ‘n ar méin liom dul,
Go cathair [Do Ghlóire] a gcómhnaidhe téidhim ar dtús
‘S a n-ainm na trócaire treóruigh féin mé indiú.

And the direct English translation:

O King of graces, Who brought me safe from yester-night,
Holy thanksgiving (be) always to the King of the Wounds:
By the power of Thy Passion, O High Son, protect me safe
From the deeds of Satan each day to my life’s end.

O Father of powers, save me from the serpent of evil,
In each way that I shall take in the road that I wish to go,
To the Throne [of Thy Glory] always first I go,
And in Mercy’s Name lead me Thyself to-day.

My Day in Wales (Part 1)

July 11, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

Noswaith dda!

Noswaith dda is Welsh for “Good evening” – do not try to pronounce it – whatever you guess will be wrong, I assure you.

I drove a circle through the Brecon Beacons today – I almost drove to St. David’s – but five hours of driving (two to get there from where I was just west of Swansea and three to get back from there to my B&B in Hay-on-Wye) didn’t seem like a good idea, so I didn’t. Instead I went to St. Illtuds in Llantwit Major, then to the Penderyn Distillery, then to Llanthony Priory … and then walked the streets of Hay-on-Wye and looked at lots of old books. It was overwhelming, even for a bibliophile like me … there are too many books … and some of the shops are simply disorganized. Many have the books categorized by subject, shelved alphabetically by author, etc. But some are just disorganized heaps of books – I think even the owners don’t know where anything is.

I was disappointed in St. Illtud’s Church and the ruins at Llantwit Major. The modern Welsh-English name comes from the old Welsh name Llanilltud Fawr. Llan means “monastery” and you can see St. Illtud’s name in the rest of that first word. The second word, fawr, means “great”. So the name is something like “Illtud’s Great Monastery” which was founded in the early 5th Century by St. Illtud as a center of learning … but it’s not so great any longer.

This is a very important site in Celtic Christian history and it’s not cared for very well at all. The monastic community here, over which St. Illtud and St. Samson were priors, was once so important in the formation of monks, priests, missionaries, and bishops that it has been called “The University of Celtic Saints.” St. David of Wales was educated and ordained there, and he is not the only one: in addition to St. David, St. Samson, St. Paul Aurelian, St. Gildas, St. Tudwal, St. Baglan and King Maelgwn ap Cadwallon (King of Gwynedd and apparently High King of Wales in the middle of the 5th Century) are said to have studied at the Cor Tewdws or “divinity school”.

The Scots and the Irish seem to have a sense of reverence for their ancient Christian monastic sites, but apparently not so the Welsh (or at least not the people of Llantwit Major). Although inside the church there is a poster about a fund raising effort to preserve what’s left and build a visitor center, it’s pretty clear it’s not going anywhere – the poster is a few years old. And in the old chapel, there are dustbins and a composting thing set up….

Here are some pictures of the Church of St. Illtud’s and what remains of the medieval buildings that were once found at this site. Of course, the earlier Celtic site has long since disappeared. First, the church as seen from the town’s public car park and then a couple of photos of the building from the church yard.

St. Illtuds Church, Llantwit Major, from town car park

St. Illtuds Church, Llantwit Major, from church yard

St. Illtuds Church, Llantwit Major, from church yard and showing ruined monastic chapel at west end

There is a ruined chapel affixed to the functioning church directly out the west door; in this chapel are currently housed dustbins (trash cans, to an American) and a green plastic composting container!

St. Illtuds, ruined chapel with composting bin

On the grounds was also a ruined chantry which has now been turned into a memory garden:

St. Illtuds, ruined chantry memory garden

Inside the church there are some stones with Celtic carving and Latin inscriptions which may date from the early Celtic monastery:

St. Illtuds, Celtic Cross bearing name of Illtud

St. Illtuds, Celtic carved stones

And, of course, the Victorians got to the place and their influence is seen in the chancel of the church and the reredos:

St. Illtuds, chancel, altar and reredos

After surveying the church at Llantwit Major (which didn’t really take as much time as I thought it would), I gave serious consideration to driving the 101 miles from there to St. David’s where the primatial Cathedral of the Church in Wales is located. It really is a lovely cathedral and there are well-preserved ruins of a monastery founded by St. David there. (Here is a link to the Cathedral’s website.) In fact, I got onto the M4 motorway and started to do just that, but a little bit west of Swansea, stopping for petrol and a Diet Coke, discretion got hold of me and I realized that I really didn’t want to spend two hours driving there and then to face three hours getting back to Hay-on-Wye. So I went back to my original plan, which was to drive to the village of Penderyn and visit the only whisky distillery in Wales. (See My Day in Wales (Part 2) for more about that.)

(Later in the day I visited Llanthony Priory, another monastic ruin, in the Black Mountains south of Hay-on-Wye. Read My Day in Wales (Part 3) for that story and more photos.)

Category: Religion (Page 115 of 118)

Sunday, a Sermon, and Superstring Theory

A Visit to Inis Oírr

A Music Sample

The Holiness of Creation – 17 July 2011

St. Bartholomew’s Wilmslow – 13 July 2011

Shrewsbury Abbey – 12 July 2011

Visiting Wilmslow

My Day in Wales (Part 3)

My Day in Wales (Part 2)

My Day in Wales (Part 1)

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