All together now...

I see on CWN that progress is apparently being made on fixing a common date for Easer to be celebrated by the various Christian denominations. One cannot help remembering how at one time celebrating Easter at different times in different churches was held to be a scandal.

We might get it right at Easter, but how about other times?

I recently had a 'phone call from someone in Scotland who was going to be working in Luton during the week and he wanted to know when Masses were on Thursday for the Ascension. Unlike Scotland, England and Wales no longer celebrate the Ascension on the fortieth day after Easter, so this poor fellow missed out on both counts. He didn't get it on Thursday because he was here and didn't get it on Sunday because he was back home!

There might be logic in it somewhere, but it escapes me.

The Holy Spirit comes to Luton?

Some might say that this image of a dove on the church windows on the eve of Pentecost was a miracle. Others (perhaps more correctly_ would say that a pigeon flew into the church window and left a mark on it - birds being worse than people at discerning sheet glass before their eyes!

In any event I would see it as a word addressed to us. If the Holy Spirit is battering Himself at the windows, desperate to get in, then what are we doing about it? We don't need to worry about what God is doing - He knows His business. We have to worry about whether we are keeping the Holy Spirit out, or whether we are receptive to Him. Are we set in our ways and apathetic in our faith - or are we ready to accept the challenge that He will bring us.

Make no mistake, He will bring us a challenge. But He will also lead us most surely on the road that leads us to God. He will brush aside our apathy, our small-mindedness, our half-heartedness, and will reveal to us in all its glory the word of Jesus Christ - the Word that has been safeguarded by the Church which Christ founded; the Word that will lead us to everlasting glory.

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Your faithful and kindle in them the fire of Thy love.

Signs of the times

It is always a shame when people lose sight of the symbolic value of things that were - and sometimes still are - important; but in an increasingly materialist world it seems an inevitable progress. I read in the Tablet - and I'd better be careful in quoting in case I breach their copyright! - of Bishop Mone's 25th anniversary of his episcopal ordination. Congratulations to the Bishop and thanks be to God for his many years of service to his people.

According to the article, however, Bishop Tartaglia in the course of the service of thanksgiving invited Bishop Mone to take his place on the cathedra at Paisley where he had sat as Bishop for so long. The congregation applauded this gesture. Let me say that on the human level it was a fine gesture. Bishop Tartaglia wished to indicate that his precursor as Bishop was still a Bishop, and retained a place in the hearts and lives of the people of the Diocese. That is fine and good, and well done Bishop Tartaglia for not wanting to hold centre stage for himself. And yet...

The Bishop's cathedra is not simply a chair or a place to sit. It is a visible symbol of the Bishop's authority. I do not think that Bishop Tartaglia was saying that he wished to be subject to Bishop Mone's authority! To sit in the cathedra is not simply a sign of being a good chap - it is a sign of the authority of the apostles carried by the Bishop in the local church. While praising Bishop Tartaglia's gesture, it also seems sad to me that the symbolic value of the cathedra seems to have been forgotten by him and his people.

This is not just nit-picking. In the Church we are dealing so much with those realities that cannot be discerned by human senses, and so the value of symbols needs to be very much in the forefront of our minds. I knew one priest (now dead, God rest him) who used to argue that when people no longer saw the relevance of a symbol we might as well get rid of it. I would urge that we rediscover the symbols and signs of our faith; that we teach them and love them; that we hold them closely to us and pass them on to the future. For we are not materialists, but realists.

Wonders of the world

The most splendid sight on a recent trip into Spain was the central lantern-tower of Burgos Cathedral. The Cathedral complex has been declared a World Heritage Site - not not surprisingly, for I do not think anything like it exists elsewhere. One might wonder whether the architect was familiar with Ely Cathedral: but here, in 1540, following the collapse of the original tower built by Juan de Colonia, the concept was even more audacious. The transition from the four sided tower to the octagonal lantern is masterfully handled, and the tower itself contains two levels of windows and is vaulted: but the vaulting ribs are not infilled with stone but with glass, permitting a huge influx of light into the Cathedral. The Flamboyant Gothic devoration on the pillars serves as a final flourish setting off the whole construction. The architect obviously liked the idea because at least two other chapels within the cathedral are partly vaulted with glass - though this is the tour de force.

Beneath the tower are the graves of Maurice the Englishman (the Bishop who really got the work on the Cathedral started) and the great Spanish hero known as El Cid, and his wife.

To the right is the vault of the Chapel of the Constable at the Eastern end of the Cathedral, containing the tombs of the Constable Don Pedro Fernandez de Velasco and his wife Dona Mencia de Mendoza, sculpted in Carrara marble. They were the founders of this chapel, designed by Simon de Colonia in the early fifteenth century, a decade or so after Don Pedro's death.

Finally here, a general view of the great Cathedral showing the exterior of the great lantern, and to the right the Chapel of the Constable - we can expect more posts from Spain over the days ahead!

All things come in time

I was recently reminded that my blog was still stuck in the snow.

Well, some things take time. It has taken me seven and a half years of being at St Martin's to get round to visiting the remains of Dunstable Priory just up the road. Dunstable was once one of the great towns of England. It boasted a royal palace - part of which remains as a pub! Here Edward I's beloved Queen Eleanor rested on her journey to burial at Westminster - though the NatWest Bank now occupies the site of the former Eleanor Cross.

The remains of the Priory sadly consist of the nave only of the ancient church, together with about two thirds of the facade - including the sadly vandalized triumphal arch of the Great West door which would once have been a splendour of stone carving. Interestingly enough, because of the importance of the town and the wish of King Henry VIII to have smaller dioceses, following the suppression of the monasteries the Priory Church survived intact despite the demolition of the monastic buildings. The plan was for Dunstable Priory to become a Cathedral (as happened at St Albans and at Gloucester) for the county of Bedford, and plans even went as far as selecting the first Bishop of Dunstable. However, following Henry's break with Rome the scheme came to nothing and over the following years most of the church was destroyed as it became a convenient quarry for local people wanting building stone.

One wonders how the history of Dunstable might have changed had it in fact become a Cathedral City.

Nw is the winter....

Before it all becomes a distant memory, I thought I'd publish this picture of St Martin's in the snow. It's amazing how much is disrupted these days when we have a moderately heavy snowfall such as this. I suppose it's because we've got unused to it - and probably also because some loonie will come up with all sorts of 'Health and Safety' regulations concerning what can and (more usually) can't be done.

Still, I hope we all made the most of it, because who knows how long it will be before we see it again!

...we play endlessly

...could be a reference to the weather at the moment. Working in the office yesterday evening I looked up to see a few youths throwing snowballs at each other in the garden. It was in my mind to point out to them that this wasn't a public area - but then I thought, why? They're doing no harm - just enjoying thmselves in a way that is proper for boys to do!

The heading refers to the Icelandic band Sigur Ros whose album Meth suth i eyrum vith spilum endalaust I have been listening to for the last few days. (With a buzz in our ears we play endlessly) In fact I've been listening to almost nothing else for the last five days. Just occasionally an album comes along which is a once in a lifetime experience. The fact that the band don't see any need to translate from Icelandic to English for an international market is perhaps a sign of their confidence.

The album itself is a thing of rare beauty and depth. It's difficult to think of much to compare it with. As the songs are sung one finds fun, wonder, passion, glory and comfort at different times. Sadly (not speaking Icelandic) I don't know the words of any of the songs and am therefore forming impressions based on the music itself. Perhaps with a track titled 'Gobbledigook' it doesn't matter too much. This is a light hearted stomp. But a song such as 'Festival' with its hints (conscious or otherwise) of Sibelius' Andante Festivo, it might be helpful to know the words. Ara batur is a track of hypnotic beauty gradually building up to grandeur. Illgresi forms a good contrast - quieter and meditative mainly for voice and guitar.

None of the songs on this album are neccesarily what you expect, but everything is better!

In short, go out and buy it! My other 2000 or so CDs have not been touched these few days.