What is the work of the Holy Spirit photos on Flickr

sailing ship with cliffs and sea monster (John Eldred, 1632) by Simon Knott

St Andrew, Great Saxham, Suffolk

This is a church I seem to revisit every five years or so, and I'm always left wondering why I don't come back more often. After the longest winter I can remember, and a good five months since my previous church exploring bike ride, I set off from Bury St Edmunds on a bright, cold Saturday morning, and Great Saxham was my first port of call.

Nothing much had changed. A large oak tree had fallen near to the fence of the park in a recent storm, but otherwise it was exactly as I remembered. It is always reassuring to cycle off into rural Suffolk to find that England has not entirely succumbed to the 21st Century.

But Suffolk has changed in the thirty-odd years I've been living here. There is hardly a dairy farm left, and not a single cattle market survives in the county. Ipswich, Lowestoft, Bury, and even the smaller places, are ringed by out-of-town shopping experiences, and the drifts of jerry-built houses wash against the edges of nearly every village. But the countryside has always been in a state of perpetually change, a constant metamorphosis, and often a painful one. I had been struck by this before while cycling across this parish, and the memory added a frisson to the experience of coming back.

For many modern historians, the 19th Century finished on August 4th 1914, and you can see their point. That was the day that the First World War began, and the England that would emerge from the mud, blood and chaos would be quite different. A new spirit was abroad, and rural areas left behind their previous patterns of ownership and employment that were little more than feudalism. Suffolk would never be the same again.

No more the Big House, no more the farm worker going cap in hand to the hiring fair, or the terrible grind to keep at bay the horrors of the workhouse. I think of Leonard, remembering the pre-war days in Ronald Blythe’s Akenfield, that passionate account of a 20th century Suffolk village, Charsfield: I want to say this simply as a fact, that Suffolk people in my day were worked to death. It literally happened. It is not a figure of speech. I was worked mercilessly. I am not complaining about it. It is what happened to me. But the men coming home from Flanders would demand a living wage. The new world would not bring comfort and democracy overnight, of course, and there are many parts of Suffolk where poverty and patronage survive even today, to a greater or lesser extent, but the old world order had come to an end. The Age of Empires was over, and the Age of Anxiety was beginning.

The English have a love-hate relationship with the countryside. As Carol Twinch argues in Tithe Wars, it is only actually possible for British agriculture to be fully profitable in war time. In time of peace, only government intervention can sustain it in its familiar forms. Here, at the beginning of the 21st century, British farmers are still demanding levels of subsidy similar to that asked for by the mining industry in the 1980s. With the UK's exit from the European Union looming, the answer from the state is ultimately likely to be the same. British and European agriculture are still supported by policies and subsidies that were designed to prevent the widespread shortages that followed the Second World War. They are half a century out of date, and are unsustainable, and must eventually come to an end.

But still sometimes in Suffolk, you find yourself among surroundings that still speak of that pre-WWI feudal time. Indeed, there are places where it doesn’t take much of a leap of the imagination to believe that the 20th century hasn’t happened. Great Saxham is one such place.

You travel out of Bury westwards, past wealthy Westley and fat, comfortable Little Saxham with its gorgeous round-towered church. The roads narrow, and after another mile or so you turn up through a straight lane of rural council houses and bungalows. At the top of the lane, there is a gateway. It is probably late 19th century, but seems as archaic as if it was a survival of the Roman occupation. The gate has gone, but the solid stone posts that tower over the road narrow it, so that only one car can pass in each direction. It is the former main entrance to Saxham Hall, and beyond the gate you enter the park, cap in hand perhaps.

Looking back, you can see now that the lane behind you is the former private drive to the Big House, obviously bought and built on by the local authority in the 1960s. It is easy to imagine it as it had once been.

Beyond the gate is another world. The narrowed road skirts the park in a wide arc, with woods off to the right. Sheep turn to look once, then resumed their grazing. About a mile beyond the gate, there is a cluster of 19th century estate buildings, and among them, slightly set back from the road beyond an unusually high wall, was St Andrew.

There was a lot of money here in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, so that you might even think it a Victorian building in local materials. But there is rather more to it than that. Farm buildings sit immediately against the graveyard, only yards from the church. When Mortlock came this way, he found chickens pottering about among the graves, and like me you may experience the unnervingly close neighing of a horse in the stables across from the porch.

The great restoration of this church was at a most unusual date, 1798, fully fifty years before the great wave of sacramentalism rolled out of Oxford and swept across the Church of England. Because of this, it appears rather plain, although quite in keeping with its Perpendicular origins - no attempt was made to introduce the popular mock-classical features of the day. The patron of the parish at the time was Thomas Mills, more familiar from his ancestors at Framlingham than here. There was another makeover in the 1820s.

I've always found this church open, and so it should be, for it has a great treasure which cannot be stolen, but might easily be vandalised if the church was kept locked (I wish that someone would explain this to the churchwardens at Nowton). The careful restoration preserved the Norman doorways and 15th century font, and the church would be indistinguishable from hundreds of other neat, clean 19th century refurbishments if it were not for the fact that it contains some most unusual glass. It was collected by Thomas Mills' son, William, and fills the east and west windows. It is mostly 17th century (you can see a date on one piece) and much of it is Swiss in origin. As at Nowton, it probably came from continental monasteries.

The best is probably the small scale collection in the west window. This includes figures of St Mary Magdalene, St John the Baptist and the Blessed Virgin, as well as scenes of the Annunciation, the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven, the Vision of St John, and much more. The work in the east window is on a larger scale, some of it Flemish in origin.

There are several simple and tasteful Mills memorials - but the Mills family was not the first famous dynasty to hold the Hall here. Back in the 16th and 17th centuries, it was the home of the Eldred family, famous explorers and circumnavigators of the globe. John Eldred died in 1632, and has one wall-mounted bust memorial on the south sanctuary wall, as well as a figure brass reset in the chancel floor from a lost table tomb. Both are gloriously flamboyant, and might seem quite out of kilter with that time, on the eve of the long Puritan night. Compare them, for instance, with the Boggas memorial at Flowton, barely ten years later. But, although the bust is of an elderly Elizabethan, I think that there is a 17th Century knowingness about them. The inscription beneath the bust reads in part The Holy Land so called I have seene and in the land of Babilone have bene, but in thy land where glorious saints doe live my soule doth crave of Christ a room to give - curiously, the carver missed out the S in Christ, and had to add it in above. It might have been done in a hurry, but perhaps it is rather a Puritan sentiment after all, don't you think?

The brass has little shields with merchant ships on, one scurrying between cliffs and featuring a sea monster. The inscription here is more reflective, asking for our tolerance: Might all my travells mee excuse for being deade, and lying here, for, as it concludes, but riches can noe ransome buy nor travells passe the destiny.

The First World War memorial remembers names of men who were estate workers here. And, after all, here is the English Church as it was on the eve of the First World War, triumphant, apparently eternal, at the very heart of the Age of Empires. Now, it is only to be found in backwaters like this, and the very fact that they are backwaters tells us that, really, it has not survived at all.

St Mary The Virgin, Eastry, Kent by Jelltex

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St Mary has been that I have tried to get into several times. Eastry lies on my route to work, although the Sandwich road goes round the village, I can see it's tower and I often wondered what delights would lay inside.

So after getting into Minster, I thought, lets try Eastry, not really holding out much hope. But, after parking up and walking down a narrow path, we came to the church and entered the unusual porch. I tried the main door and it swung open.

Revealing a warden vacuuming. She was very kind, stopped working so i could get my shots, and filled us in with the details, and especially about the Dominical Circle, a carving used to calculate the date of easter, and very rare as well as being 13th century.

Most noticeable were the wall paintings over the naive, a description of which should appear below:

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Set away from the main street but on one of the earliest sites in the village, flint-built Eastry church has an over restored appearance externally but this gives way to a noteworthy interior. Built in the early thirteenth century by its patrons, Christ Church Canterbury, it was always designed to be a statement of both faith and power. The nave has a clerestory above round piers whilst the east nave wall has a pair of quatrefoils pierced through into the chancel. However this feature pales into insignificance when one sees what stands between them - a square panel containing 35 round paintings in medallions. There are four deigns including the Lily for Our Lady; a dove; Lion; Griffin. They would have formed a backdrop to the Rood which would have been supported on a beam the corbels of which survive below the paintings. On the centre pier of the south aisle is a very rare feature - a beautifully inscribed perpetual calendar or `Dominical Circle` to help find the Dominical letter of the year. Dating from the fourteenth century it divides the calendar into a sequence of 28 years. The reredos is an alabaster structure dating from the Edwardian period - a rather out of place object in a church of this form, but a good piece of work in its own right. On the west wall is a good early 19th century Royal Arms with hatchments on either side and there are many good monuments both ledger slabs and hanging tablets. Of the latter the finest commemorates John Harvey who died in 1794. It shows his ship the Brunswick fighting with all guns blazing with the French ship the Vengeur. John Bacon carved the Elder this detailed piece of work.

kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Eastry

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Eastry is a large and interesting village situated just off the A256 approximately 2 miles from Sandwich, 9 miles from Dover and 12 miles from Canterbury.

The name, meaning Eastern district, originated in the 7th Century, when the village was the capital of the most easterly of the provinces of the Kingdom of Kent, the Lathe of Eastry.

Here the Saxon kings had a Royal Hall on the site north of the Church, now occupied by Eastry Court, which was reputedly the scene of the murder in 665 of the two young princes, Etheldred and Ethelbert. Two Saxon burial sites in the village date from this period.

On the south side of the Church lies the former Tithe Barn (rebuilt 1832), now Aumbry Cottages, and the Parsonage Farm now known as the Aumbry (rebuilt 1825) from its having belonged to the Almonry of the Prior and Convent at Canterbury from the 12th Century.

The village was the birthplace of Henry of Eastry, Prior of Christ Church, Canterbury 1285-1333, in whose honour the Cathedral tower bears the name Bell Harry.

In Lower Street on the west side is Fairfield a 15th century aisled hall house, and in Mill Lane, the former Union Workhouse (1835) which became Eastry Hospital and which is now closed.

Beneath the garden of Beckets on the west side of Woodnesborough Lane are the Caves (now closed), a long series of galleries excavated in the last century by the Foord family in the course of extracting chalk for lime burning.

The Old Vicarage in Church Street was in use as the Vicarage until 1980 and stands on a site appropriated to that purpose in 1367.

In the 19th century the village possessed four windmills, only one of which now remains, as a private residence.

The Church dates from c.1230. It was built lavishly in the early English style of architecture by the monks of Christ Church Abbey, Canterbury who owned the Eastry Manor at that time.

This Norman church almost certainly replaced a Saxon building, since Eastry boasted a Royal Palace for the Kings of Kent as early as 660 AD. The origins of Christian worship on this site are lost in antiquity.

The beautiful church of St. Mary's Eastry, a place associated with the notable Prior of Canterbury, Henry of Eastry (after whom the "Bell Harry Tower" of Canterbury Cathedral is named), contains a most unique feature, restored during 1987.

Above the Chancel Arch, enclosed within a rectangular frame, are rows of seven "medallion" wall paintings; the lower group was discovered in 1857 and the rest in 1903. They remained in a rather dilapidated state until the Canterbury Cathedral Wall Paintings Department brought them back to life.

The medallions are evidently of the 13th Century, having been painted while the mortar was still wet. Each medallion contains one of four motifs:

The trefoil flower, pictured left, is perhaps a symbol of the Blessed Virgin Mary to whom the church is dedicated; or symbolic of Christ.

The lion; symbolic of the Resurrection.

Doves, either singly, or in pairs, represent the Holy Spirit.

The Griffin represents evil, over which victory is won by the power of the Resurrection and the courage of the Christian.

www.ewbchurches.org.uk/eastrychurchhistory.htm

Papal Visit: Beatification by Simon Knott

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19.9.10: Cofton Park, Birmingham

The Beatification of John Henry Newman by Pope Benedict XVI

We were at Cofton Park for Newman as much as we were for the Pope. I'm not the biggest fan of Benedict XVI or of the cult of hero worship, but Newman is for me one of the outstanding figures of the 19th Century; along with Darwin and Marx, he is one of the three great thinkers of that century. The three of them changed the way we understand the world, how we got here and where we are going.

What Darwin, Marx and Newman all had in common was that they devoted their lives to arguing theories of development. All three had a profound effect on how we lived our lives in the 20th century. Newman's theory was a theory of theological development. His starting point was to say: if we are imperfect, how can we possibly claim to truly know the mind of God?

As a young man, Newman had been an evangelical, believing in the literal truth of the Bible. As he matured, and realised this was not a possibility, he asked himself the big question: if we are literally incapable of posessing a knowledge of the mind of God, if we cannot understand exactly what it is that God is asking us to do, but we are still called on to seek perfection, then how does the revelation of that knowledge come about?

Newman decided it was the duty of the Church to be open to unfolding revelation, for each generation to continue the journey towards God in its own way. Some traditionalist Catholics are uncomfortable with the uncertainty of this, and ask the question "does this mean that some things we used to think were sinful are no longer sins?" In the words of the great Cardinal Hume, the answer is yes, I am afraid it does, because understanding of how sin may be realised is ultimately in the mind of imperfect man. Rather confusingly, Newman used the word 'Tradition' to explain the way the Church develops in response to this unfolding revelation.

Some of Newman's well-known sayings were projected on to the big screens at Cofton Park on Sunday, and one of my favourites went up just as the Pope was getting out of his helicopter: To grow is to change, and to become perfect is to change often. A little ironic perhaps, as one of the charges often levelled against this Pope by his fellow-Catholics is that he is intransigent and dogmatic - was it the spirit of Newman sending him a message, perhaps?

I think English Catholics have a love-hate relationship with Benedict XVI. He is a northern European, he's one of us, he thinks like us - but on the other hand he is such a deep intellectual that he doesn't engage in ordinary people's lives in the way that John Paul II did, even though John Paul II was in many ways a much more conservative Pope. JP2 is increasingly seen by history as providing a steady hand on the tiller at a time when the ship was entering uncertain waters, and I expect history's view of Benedict to be similar, that he kept the Conservatives on board at a time when the great outcry for change might have led to fragmentation.

I am also glad that there is at last a wider, public debate about the role of Faith in a civilised and secular society, and the relationship between Fides et Ratio, Faith and Reason, although it needs to be conducted without hysteria. While I think the Church and the Pope are certainly patriarchal and authoritarian, I do not believe that either is homophobic. This seems to me a very serious charge, and quite inappropriate when addressing the real issues involved in the Catholic Church's understanding of homosexuality. The Church's teaching in the matter (with which I find much to disagree) is against non-creative sexual acts, and also against sexual acts outside of marriage. Thus, homosexuality is not taught to be sinful, but it is taught to be a disordered state. While I think this teaching is wrong, I also think that to describe it as 'homophobic', that is, the fear of homosexuality or the promotion of a hatred of homosexuality, is just plain wrong. I am not saying that homophobic Catholics do not exist, but I am not aware of ever having met one. Indeed, several of my openly gay friends are Mass-attending Catholics. This obviously isn't enough, but it is a better starting point.

Secondly, while I think that condoms have a role to play in fighting AIDS and other diseases in sub-Saharan Africa, the issue is a very complex one. Respect needs to be given to the Church's preference for other methods, and the resources it commits to employing them: education, building up respect for women, fighting to raise the social conditions in which the abuse of women thrives. To describe the Catholic Church's work in Africa as 'genocide', as one banner at the 'Protest the Pope' rally in London on Saturday did, is just plain daft.

The Catholic Church is crying out for change. Under John XXIII and Paul VI in the Sixties and Seventies there was a real sense of a pilgrim church on the move and open to the Holy Spirit. But I do not think this is currently the case. Perhaps Newman's beatification will open up the eyes of the Church again to the reality of its journey, who knows? Where there are difficulties with official Church teaching, most Catholics I know follow their prayerful consciences, as Newman said we must, in a spirit of loyal dissent. We think the Church's teaching on contraception and homosexuality is wrong - not because we think we are right, but because we think that ongoing revelation will lead to the teaching being developed and changed - to grow is to change, to become perfect is to change often.

It is good to see dissent, and it is good to see a public debate. It is right and proper that those protesting against the visit of the Pope in London on Saturday had the chance to make thier voices heard. Vatican officials are said to be amazed that 80,000 pilgrims and 10,000 protestors were able to go about their business in the same area of central London and there only be one arrest! I'd like to think it is a good example of English tolerance and fair play. But I am afraid that I do not like their leader, Professor Dawkins, at all. I think he is a fundamentalist, and I abhor fundamentalism in all its forms, whether Christian, Moslem, Socialist, Fascist or Atheist. He's an intelligent man, and really ought to know better. His spiteful and angry speech on Saturday - he was literally shaking with anger - was a world away from the spirit of peace, love and reconciliation that I felt around me at Cofton Park yesterday. Ultimately, it's all about Love.

Sr Éibhlís NicUaithuas, the Revd Jools Hamilton, the Revd Ken Rue, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, Julia McKinley, Kieran O’Mahony OSA, Bishop Pat Story and Patricia Carroll at Thinking Allowed during Ecumenical Bible Week. by Church of Ireland

‘What does it mean to you to be a Christian in Ireland today?’ was the question pondered by panellists in this year’s Ecumenical Bible Week Thinking Allowed event last Thursday (June 13). Speakers raised a wide range of challenges facing society, and Christians in particular. But they also brought stories of hope and encouragement.

Sharing their thoughts in the Holy Cross Diocesan Centre in Dublin were Bishop Pat Storey, the Church of Ireland Bishop of Meath and Kildare; the Revd Jools Hamilton, Methodist Chaplain at Trinity College Dublin; Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, Catholic Archbishop of Dublin; and Julia McKinley, development officer for the National Bible Society of Ireland. The panel was chaired by Patricia Carroll of the Archdiocese of Dublin’s Office of Evangelisation.

How is this not good news anymore?

Bishop Pat Storey opened by suggesting that being a Christian in Ireland today meant a “whole lot of bother”. “Many of us find ourselves on the wrong side of culture and swimming against the stream of cultural norms,” she stated, adding: “It’s almost got to the stage that if the Church says ‘yes’ then society says ‘no’ and if the Church says ‘no’, society says ‘yes’.”

However, she said she loved the Church and wholeheartedly believed in its future. She had no doubt that God would take us through these confusing times. “The Church in Ireland is not used to being questioned, ignored and hated. And, hands up, some of it is our fault. Our place in society has almost been overturned in the last few years but this could be an opportunity. When I talk to people who don’t go to church, they still have a spiritual thirst … We still have the same product to bring to market but our marketing needs to change. How have we managed to lose the message? How is this not good news anymore?” she wondered, stating “The message is not the problem, we are.”

Bishop Storey suggested that there was only one response to the decline in traditional denominations – the passion of personal faith. “I can only bring my own story. I know Jesus Christ has changed my life. My one job is to tell that to others. I must communicate love – He loves you. Yes, there are challenges and we have some regrets but there is hope because He is hope. What is it like to be a Christian in Ireland today? It’s fantastic. God is love and that love is offered to whoever takes his hand,” she concluded.

What is God doing and how do I join in?

The Revd Jools Hamilton brought his perspective as chaplain to both students and staff most of whom, he said, are not interested in the Church. They do, however, have questions about God and they are searching. Drawing on Luke Chapter 4 he said the challenge is to see the activity God is engaged in outside our walls – outside our churches.

He told the story of a student, ‘Niamh’ (not her real name) who was baptised in the church but who did not grow up in faith. She was studying theology in TCD and flourishing in her faith. She was also gay. He said that one of the Christian student groups she attended found out and presented her with a book to guide her from the darkness and sin in her life. She came to Jools about it and he later wrote a blog about her situation. He was contacted after his blog post by a conservative Christian couple who noted that whatever their opinions, everyone should be aware of “the radical inclusivity of the Gospel”.

“Where is my hope?” he asked. “Where ever we look outside our walls. When we recognise where the spirit of God is active. When we change our message from ‘what I’m bringing you’ to ‘what God is doing in us’. Church historian Dermot MacCulloch said that the most miraculous thing about the Church is that it is still here. There are days that it gets me down but it’s still here and God is still active and present outside our walls. Will we have the courage to ask, to pray, ‘what are you doing and how do I join in?’”

Faith is Always a Risk

Archbishop Diarmuid Martin observed that sometimes if you profess yourself a Christian today “it’s like going to an ecological meeting wearing a fur coat – you’re not welcome”. He referred to the wretched man in Romans Chapter 7 and said the wretched man would not be found prominently in books on evangelisation or promoting youth ministry. But he said he likes the wretched man. He said it is important to avoid settling into a comfortable faith or what he termed “comfort zones of self-buttressed certainty”.

For many today in their search for meaning, the question of God and Jesus Christ keeps cropping up, the Archbishop said. In questioning the desire to reject God, questions of who God is are opened up. “For me, being Christian in today’s world is one who is haunted by Christ not one who is in certainty of faith. Being Christian is one who recognises the uncertainty of faith. Faith is always a risk,” he stated.

Archbishop Martin said that the Church is visionary and is never a closed fellowship of the like-minded. “We are encouraged to reach out to all of secularised Ireland,” he said. He said that in dealing with the issue of child abuse in the Church, many took the opportunity to reject the good will of the Church and of Christ. They were angry with the Church, he suggested. The answer to this will only come from men and women of integrity who can go out into society and who can bring the news that faith can add that extra dimension to society.

What is the question people are asking?

While browsing the self-help section in Easons, Julia McKinley said she was struck by the range of subjects covered: organisation, decluttering, hygge, mindfulness, minimalism, Marie Kondo’s multi-million selling book. “What is the question people are asking?” she wondered. “What is the yearning inside us?”

She suggested that one of the things we so crave is peace. “We’re looking for it in colour schemes, apps on our phones, scrolling on public transport. We feel busier and busier, yet all the time we are striving for peace,” she said. She said that increasingly there is a phenomenon of ‘stopping without stopping’. Our phones are never truly off and down time is simply ‘non-work’ rather than stopping totally.

“If peace is a fundamental craving, is there anything that we as Christians can offer?” Julia asked. “Is there anything from Scripture that speaks into this yearning?” She explored what peace means – defined as ‘lack of war’ or ‘tranquillity’. The Hebrew for peace is shalom meaning wholeness, safety, welfare. “One challenge with the modern world is the continual draw of social media. We are aware of the news, not only locally but globally. This can be overwhelming. The question is, who is standing in front of me and how can I see to their shalom … Being a person of faith in Ireland requires a connection of faith with shalom at our core. Perhaps seeing to the shalom of our brother is one way of moving forward,” she concluded.

OLMC-CONCERT-38 by The Catholic Sun

Photos: J.D. Long-García/CATHOLIC SUN

Supporters crowd Our Lady of Mount Carmel for concert

Benefit for Hillebrand, Mills family raises over $30K

By Joyce Coronel | Oct. 1, 2009 | The Catholic Sun

TEMPE — When word spread that 11-year-old Julia Hillebrand, the daughter of local Catholic composer and recording artist Paul Hillebrand, had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, fellow musicians banded together to hold a benefit concert.

They hoped to attract about 1,000 people to the Sept. 29 event at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish. More than an hour before the concert was set to begin, however, the line to get into the church stretched well into the parking lot as friends, family and supporters waited for the doors to open.

With the likes of big-name Catholic music stars Matt Maher, Tom Booth, Tim and Julie Smith, Jaime and Kari Cortez, and others, the crowd swelled to nearly double what organizers had hoped.

So many people turned out in response to the plight of Julia Hillebrand and Ethan Mills, a teenage cancer sufferer and longtime Hillebrand family friend, the parish hall had to be opened up to accommodate the overflow crowd.

Inside the church, Fr. John Bonavitacola marveled at the scene he said reminded him of Easter Sunday and Christmas morning services.

“When God’s people pray together,” he told the crowd, “anything can happen. We pray that whatever God’s will might be, that we would be in acceptance of that. Faith can move mountains.”

Tim Smith had a special message for the Hillebrand and Mills families.

“We want you to know that you are loved and not only that, right here is our shoulder — lean on it.” And with that, the standing-room only throng swayed, clapped and sang along with the Smiths’ rendition of “Lean On Me.”

Bob Mulhern, who has known the Mills and Hillebrand families for 30 years and served as emcee for the event, told those gathered of 18-year-old Ethan Mills’ courage in the face of recurring cancer.

“Ethan calls himself ‘The Tumor-nator,’ he said. “There are 51 guys out there who have all shaved their head in support of him.”

Ethan’s mother, Nancy, was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support by the concert-goers. “I’ve never been so blown-away by anything,” she said. “Ethan is a real hero in our lives. When I breathe, I pray. We put our trust in Jesus no matter what.”

Matt Maher told the young cancer patients, “You’re not alone. If you’ve got bad news, you’ve got good news, because God holds everything together.”

Some in the crowd brushed away tears as Paul Hillebrand sang “We are body of Christ” and thanked them for their support.

“Thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made,” he said. “Come, Holy Spirit, heal us all, for we believe all shall be well.”

Julia and Ethan each stood briefly and the crowd responded with a standing ovation.

Julia, a sixth-grade student at St. Timothy Catholic School, was diagnosed with a tumor on her brain stem on Aug. 21 and is undergoing radiation.

Ethan, a graduate of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic School, had planned to attend Arizona State University this fall until the cancer he battled 14 years ago returned.

Organizers said the concert and silent auction brought in more than $30,000 for the two families, who have been hit with huge medical bills as well as time away from work due to the children’s illnesses.

More: www.catholicsun.org

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All Saints, Hemblington, Norfolk by Jelltex

Before this day, I had not heard of Hemblington. But I saw a sign pointing to the church, away over the fields, and I had time, so I turned to see where it went.

The road went for ages until I saw the church, tucked in the countryside, round tower looking so typically Norfolk.

Inside I was dazzled by the painted font, the wall paintings on the north wall and the various nooks and crannies of this ancient church, but not really knowing what each was for.

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You don't have to go far off of the hellish A47 between Norwich and Yarmouth to come out into an utterly rural and remote corner of Norfolk. This is partly sleight of hand, because the narrow lanes which leave the busy road are so winding that they make you think you've come further than you have. Also, you might expect this area between the marshes and the broads to be flat and open; but here the landscape rolls, a patchwork of hedged fields and copses. In the late summer, there was a balmy restlessness, the soothing warmth of the sun competing with the wind from the North Sea ruffling and rustling the long grass.

All Saints is set in a secretive graveyard on a rise above a lattice of country lanes. From a distance it appears a sentinel; but, closer to, the aspect softens, and the church reveals itself as a humble little round-towered building, with much that is old about it, but also the simple mendings and making dos of later generations. I was particularly struck by the use of red brick, both in the elegant window in the western side of the Norman tower (is it 17th century?) and the moulding inside the opening of what is otherwise a humble south porch.

When I first came this way I bemoaned the fact that Hemblington church was kept locked, but I am happy to report that it is now open every day. Certainly, Hemblington is a remote parish, and its church a remote church, and trusting strangers is a risk - and Faith itself is a risk, of course. But the great medieval treasures of Hemblington are not the kind that can be carted away in the back of a white van.

The first is one of a number of very interesting, even idiosyncratic, fonts in this part of Norfolk. These do not appear to be part of a series, although this one does bear a strong resemblance to that nearby at Buckenham. They do suggest, however, that there was an abundance of stonecarvers working in this area in the 15th century, and that parishes were able to express their independence and individuality in their choice of subject. The Reformation would put a stop to that.

The Hemblington font was recoloured lightly in the 1930s under the eye of Professor Tristram. It is a great celebration of Saints; there are seven seated on the panels of the bowl, and eight more standing around the shaft. The eighth panel subject is a beautiful Holy Trinity, with God the Father seated holding his crucified Son between his knees, while the dove of the Spirit descends. It is a charming image; there is another on the font at Acle a few miles off. Among the Saints on the panel are St Augustine, St Edward the Confessor, St Barbara, and a striking St Agatha - she sits with her breasts bared, a sword descending. Among those around the shaft are St Lawrence with a finely carved grid iron, St Leonard with his manacles, St Margaret dispatching a dragon with her cross, St Catherine with her wheel and sword, St Stephen and St Mary Magdalene.

If there was only the font, Hemblington would be a must-see for anyone interested in the late medieval period. But just as the font demonstrates the enthusiasms of the cool, rational 15th century, so there is evidence of the shadowier devotions of a century earlier. This is the best single surviving wall painting of the narrative of St Christopher in England. The giant figure bestrides the river opposite the south doorway, just as he does in about twenty churches in this part of Norfolk, but here his staff has become a club, and on either bank there are smaller scenes depicting events in the Saint's story. those on the west side, recalling his life as a pagan before conversion, are all but obliterated. Those on the east side, however, are marvellously well-preserved, vivid and immediate in their clarity. They show the trials and tribulations he underwent in his life as a Christian, including the occasion on which two women were sent to tempt him in prison, and another where he is led to the executioner's sword. Another shows him tied to a tree being flogged, an echo of the scourging of Christ; another shows him being shot through with arrows, which would have immediately brought to mind the martyrdom of their own dear St Edmund to the medieval East Anglians.

The donors who paid for the font, in that great, late medieval attempt to reinforce Catholic orthodoxy in the face of local abuses and superstitions, are probably among those remembered by brass inscriptions in the nave.

And this must have been a busy parish in those days, for will evidence reveals that there were three guild altars where lights burned for the dead. We can even trace where these guild altars may have been, for on the north side of the nave there is a piscina, and connected to it is a pedestal, where a statue of a Saint would have stood. Such things were probably destroyed in the 1530s by orders of the increasingly paranoid King Henry VIII; those that survived would have fallen to the orders of the enthusiastically puritan advisors of his son, the boy King Edward VI a decade later. It is appalling to think of the richness that once was, not just here, but in thousands of village churches all over England. So much lost, so much wilfully destroyed.

Hemblington has retained more than most, and the church is a fascinating testimony to the mindset of late medieval East Anglia. But even without these great treasures, All Saints is a charming, rural building that speaks as loudly of the Victorian villagers who paid for, and probably worked on, its restoration as it does of their mysterious Catholic forebears. I stood for a moment imagining the blacksmith and the plowboy, the wheelwright and the carpenter, sitting in the pews for Divine Service. And then, after a chat with the modern custodians, we headed on for North Burlingham.

Simon Knott, November 2007

www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/hemblington/hemblington.htm

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Six socmen of Gert were at the Conquest deprived of 30 acres of land, 2 acres of meadow, with 2 carucates, in this town, there were also 2 socmen, one of them belonged to the soc of the hundred, who held half a carucate of land, and a borderer with 6 acres of meadow, who had under them 7 socmen, with 20 acres of land, and one of meadow, and there was one carucate and an half among them all; it was one leuca long, and half a leuca broad, and paid 16d. gelt. (fn. 1)

This lordship was in the Crown at the survey, and Godric took care of it; and was granted to the family of Le Botiler, and from them came to the Botetourts, as in South Walsham, and Upton.

William de Rothing and Joan his wife claimed view of frankpledge, &c. in the 15th of Edward I.

Henry de Cat and Margery his wife had an interest herein, in the 35th of the said King, and Henry Cat, and Jeffrey Atte Fenne were returned to be lords in the 9th of Edward II. after this John Fastolf and Margery his wife.

The principal manor belonged to the see of Norwich; at the survey William Beaufoe Bishop of Thetford held it in his own right, as a lay fee, 60 acres of land; of which 2 freemen (of Ralph Stalre were deprived) with the soc and sac; of one of these Almar Bishop of Elmham had the commendation, or protection only, of this Beaufoe had the soc, &c. and Ralph, the Earl had the other, valued at 2s.

Bishop Beaufoe in right of his see had also 21 socmen, with 140 acres of land, 8 acres of meadow, and 3 carucates and a half, &c. this was valued in his principal lordship of Blowfield: in this town, there were also 60 acres of demean land. (fn. 2)

Bishop Beaufoe gave this to his see at his death, and Bishop Herbert settled it on the priory, with the advowson of the church.

The ancient family of the Castons held a considerable part of these fees. of the see of Norwich, of whom see in Blofield, Bradeston, &c. and after came to the Berneys of Reedham; the Lords Bardolf had also an interest herein, in the 15th of Edward I. William Bardolf, claimed the assise, frank pledge, &c.

Sir Thomas Berney died lord in 1389, and his descendant, Henry Berney, Esq. in 1584.

The tenths were 2l. The temporalities of St. Faith's priory 18d. Of Weybridge 5s.

The Church was a rectory dedicated to All-Saints, and formerly in the patronage of the Bishops of Norwich, but was appropriated to the prior and convent of Norwich, for the prior's table, by Walter Suffield Bishop in 1248, and was valued together with the vicarage at 5l.—Peter-pence 12d.—Carvage 2d. ob.

Vicars.

In 1304, Thomas de Langele, instituted vicar, presented by the prior &c. of Norwich.

1307, Richard de Boton. Ditto.

1324, And. de Bedingham. Ditto.

1349, Edmund Barker. Ditto.

1367, Thomas Gilbert. Ditto.

1395, John Malpas. Ditto.

1395, Edmund Heryng. Ditto.

1397, Robert Gernon. Ditto.

1401, Sim. Annable. Ditto.

1402, Robert Body. Ditto.

It has for many years been served with a stipendiary curate, nominated by the dean and chapter, who have the appropriated rectory.

¶In the church were the lights of All-Saints, St. Mary, Holy Cross, St. Catherine, and St. Margaret.

www.british-history.ac.uk/topographical-hist-norfolk/vol1...

St Mary The Virgin, Eastry, Kent by Jelltex

I could think of little else to do, so I headed towards Dover thinking that as I had finally got into Minster church, I should try Eastry as well. So, we turned off the main road and went into the village. Parked up and got the gear out again. I forgot what an unusual porch the church had, I thought it locked, but the door was just stiff. I swung the door open, and then the inner door too, and in the process disturbing another warden, this time vacuuming.

She was very nice, telling us the fine details of the church and filling us in with the history. She did not offer to take us up the tower though! Whilst she chatted to Will, I went round to get my shots, which I hope come out well. And before she could take up more of our a time, a quick glance at the clock revealed it to be nearly one and Will had to be heading home by three.

jelltex.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/sunday-16th-march-2014.html