Walsingham. The Story so Far.

I must confess I have, over the past few months found the thought of my 'blog something of an embarrassment, as one might find the sight of a somewhat wilted plant that is entrusted to you and which you never quite get around to watering until it's far too late. In fact, I've just realised it's been a bout a year. Well I'm determined to do something about this, and so am writing of a series of generic posts on various themes close to my heart; and few things are closer to that pump than that of Our Lady's Shrine in England: the greatest jewel in Her Dowry.

This year is, as many will know, the 950th anniversary of the apparition to the Lady Richeldis of Our Lady, asking her to build a Shrine there. All of this is covered by far more learned persons than myself, not least Fr. Michael Rear's new book on the history of Walsingham. I have had a brief look, and it seems a most well written and balanced history of the place. Much as his biography on Blessed John Henry Newman is. In this post however, I am more interested in the emotive qualities of the place.

Over the summer, I undertook an annual walking pilgrimage to Walsingham, starting 50 miles away in Brandon on a Friday, and arriving in time for the Pilgrim Mass at the Shrine on the Sunday. This is the 6th one I have completed having been on it every year since it was first organised. I am also proud to say that I am the only person to have walked each one and not chickened out at some point, complaining of blisters or some anything else. It is one of the highlights of my year, and I hope it continues to be for many years to come.

Anyway, the highlight of this weekend is, for me, the last mile, from the Catholic Shrine, into the village, where we go to the Parish Church for Benediction, and are then free to wander as we choose. I usually take a group of bewildered Catholics to the Other Shrine in Walsingham. The one down the hill from the Friday Market. It is about this Shrine and the people around it, and what they mean to me, that I would like to speak.

I first came to Walsingham on the Anglican Grand National in, I suspect, about 2000. I had never been before, and was not sure what to expect. Granted, I didn't see it at its finest- the seething hoards of pilgrims made it difficult, but I made friends then, and had a thoroughly nice day out. I remember going into the Shrine for the first time, after the Mass and Procession from the Abbey Grounds; with my father and brother. We went through the front doors, and I was hit by serveral things: the almost overpowering scent of a mix of the most beautiful incense (no ordinary Hays & Finch stuff this) and several Imperial tons of wax being burned; the almost blinding heat coming from near countless candles, and the crush of bodies: far too many for what is, in reality, a very small church, certainly a very crowded one, not designed to hold what felt like thousands of pilgrims which crowded in there. I also remember the very striking white on blue image of the Annunciation that is the first thing you see when you go through that door, and which reminds you that this is what this place is about first and foremost: God announcing His will to Mary, and beseeching Her co-operation in His plan of Salvation. I remember very little else of that day, except visiting the Holy House, and seeing the statue of Our Lady of Walsingham there, on her processional hearse, and the niche empty, and thinking she would look far better up there than down here. This brief glance was enough to give me a taste and made me realise I wanted more. I knew I was 'igh in those days, but I knew little about it all, but was determined to find out more, and I felt that Walsingham held the key.

I determined to learn more about it, and was loaned Fr. Stephenson's wonderful books Walsingham Way and Merrily on High. Both full of anecdotes and exceedingly entertaining. I was overjoyed when I saw both had been re-printed.

Subsequent visits were made within the context of Youth 2000 visits, when I was still and Anglican: a family with whom I was friendly went along every year, and invited me to join them. Of course, I was keen to go back to Walsingham, so came along, and would go down every morning to the Anglican Shrine to serve the 7.30 Mass, before coming back up for breakfast. I am possibly one of the few people who can claim to have served at every major Altar in Walsingham: both Parish Churches, the Holy House and High Altar of the Anglican Shrine, as well as the Slipper Chapel and the Chapel of Reconcilliation, not that this really matters.

The time I spent at Youth 2000, whilst not being quite my thing musically and liturgically, had a profound effect on my desire to be received into full Communion, especially the Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament that went on all through the weekend. This is ironic really, as the Shrine was one of the few things that kept me in the Church of England. How could I bear to leave behind everything that was Catholic in the Church of England? As it was, it was Lourdes that made me a Papist, but that is another blog post.

The Shrine is one of those places that I always see something new in to admire. Mostly due to the work of the artist Enid Chadwick who, along with Martin Travers, is my favourite church decoraters. There are also some of the remnants of the Master's European Holdays, such as the dreadful statue of St. Philip Neri. The origin of the quite frankly terrifying statue of he who is referred to as St. Cure d'Ars is unknown to me; but in the semi-darkness he looks positively sinister.

The chapel of the Resurrection and St. Jospeh is possibly my favourite in terms of it's design: it is tucked away in a dark and secret corner, and every inch of it is covered in paintings, including the illustration of Fr. Hope Patten's cat, looking on as a priest elevates the host, with a server next to him enthusiastically rings the Sanctus bell.

I see that I have gone for one and a half pages, which is quite long enough, and I have not said anything that I wanted to. Perhaps that will be for another post, now that I have satisfied myself that I have laid some of the ground work.

A clergyman of my acquaintace, now a secular Priest in Communion with Rome introduced to me Michael Yelton's biography of Walsingham and its restorer, which answered a nagging feeling I had long harboured within me, as I know, it has nagged within the breasts of many Anglo-Catholics, that leaving for the Italian Misson was in some way betraying the Catholic party of the Church of England, and certainly I was made to feel that way by some when I did leave. However, that biography, right at the end, relates a conversation between Fr. Hope Patten and another, in the late 1950s, shortly before the dear Father went to his eternal reward. He remarked: “the game's up, we can't carry on like this. We shall all have to become Roman Catholics.” Sadly he died before he was able to carry out this threat. I always try to go and visit his grave beside the entrance to the Anglican Parish Church in Walsingham and say a prayer for his soul.

Pray for him, and pray for the reunion of Christendom, as he doubtless did every day of his life.

Patrimony

Although I have not been an Anglican for a significant length of time (6 years, since you ask), I do consider myself to have been very much formed by what I learned there, and how I learned to do things, which continues to effect me, and I affect it at times, as I feel my Catholicism is a major part of who I am. The recent, wonderful, marvellous, stupendous events in places such as Allen Hall, Westminster Cathedral and the illustrious church of St. Aloysius in Oxford, and also the pesterings of people to write more frequently on this blog have been important factors in my deciding to put some thoughts down about how I feel about the Anglican Patrimony.

I must confess, I am slightly puzzled as to where “Anglican” Patrimony begins (I think Fr. “Patrimony” Hunwicke and I are in agreement on that, which is re-assuring); and is it Anglican Patrimony which I am most interested in, or rather Anglo-Catholic Patrimony? Where does one begin and the other end? Alright, what do I think of as Anglican Patrimony? Well...

The English Hymnal (I was reared on it)
The English Missal (the finest work of liturgy never approved by any Ecclesial Community)
the Book of Common Prayer (obviously not the Black Rubric though) and especially Prayer Book Evensong.
The Authorised Version
Cassocks with 39 buttons and 5 pleats
Taking Liturgy seriously.
Sir Ninian Comper.
The Great Fathers (Ancient and Modern- I'm thinking of People like Lancelot Andrewes, Thomas Ken, the Oxford Movement, the slum Fathers such as Fr. Stanton, Dom Gregory Dix, and the monks of Nashdom and many others)
The Parson's Handbook
Ritual Notes
Martin Travers
The Restored Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham.
Moving the hand back to the centre when making the Sign of the Cross (so it goes head, middle, left, right, centre)
The “Catholic” Societies of the Church of England.
National Pilgrimages.

These are just some disorganised jottings, but those things do largely sum up what I feel is/was best about Anglicanism. They do have an Anglo-Catholic flavour to them, but then my Anglicanism always had an Anglo-Catholic flavour to it. I think they are a list of things that I miss about the Church of England; I have not included hymns I miss- most of them are in the English Hymnal anyway. I also think that this list would be slightly different from former Anglican to former Anglican- something which I do not miss about the Church of England, which I think Anglo-Catholicism had a lot to do with: no two churches did things in quite the same way- Gf the poem “Oh it's just the usual thing”. Most of it is transportable to the Ordinariate as well- though I can't see the Parson's Handbook putting in a re-appearance somehow! It would be nice though, if the 39 buttoned, 5 pleated cassock became the cassock of the Ordinariate though, I think- some distinguishing mark. And of course, most right thinking people, both sides of the Tiber, would admit to feeling most at home in Fr. Hope Patten's Chapel of Ease dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin, just down from the Friday Market. I can't go in there without feeling utterly overcome with emotion, and I hope I always do: I do think there are very few places which are closer to heaven than that Shrine; especially when you learn something of the characters who were responsible for its establishment, and those who beautified it. But it's atmosphere is one of the most overpowering prayer. But I digress- The Shrine is worthy of at least one post of its own.
None of these things is especially Anglican, it must be said- with the exception of Prayer Book Evensong; but I wonder what percentage of normal parish churches still use it- and how many Anglican Clergy are able to say the Communion service competently.

So I wonder if, instead of the Patrimony being “things” it is more a mentality, and upbringing. Of not reducing everything to the lowest common denominator (something of which the Catholic Church, certainly in this country, seems distressingly guilty of)- of taking pride and time in what is done, and how it is done- preaching for example: the average standard of preaching used to be an awful lot higher in the Church of England than in Rome. I suspect this is changing though- but I always felt that Anglican clergy took it far more seriously than their serperated brethren. Also, and this is one of my great bugbears- liturgy. Doing it as well as possible- taking it seriously and doing it well. There was a very telling picture in the set of the Ordinations at Westminster Cathedral on Saturday- it showed the three ordinands sat next to each other, all bolt upright, looking straightforward, hands on knees, feet planted squarely on the ground- sat smartly, tidily and uniformly. If you look at secular clergy concelebrating it is difficult to find five out of 20 who are sat in the same way- unless its with arms folded and legs stretched out, looking relaxed and comfortable, and not akin to being sat in front of the telly. Alright, this is an exaggeration, but not much of one. But this seemliness in liturgy is something which is very, very Anglican. I wonder if this is part of the reason why there are such strong friendships between the Oratories and Anglicans.

Since writing the above paragraphs, I have listened to the press conference of the first Ordinary of the Ordinariate of Our Lady Walsingham (I said she was Patrimony: Fr. Hope Patten & Fr. Fynes-Clinton would be pleased, I'm sure): The Rev'd Fr. Keith Newton. He makes a very good point, which, I must confess, in my narrow-minded and blinkered way I had not considered: Anglican Patrimony is not just liturgical. What does this mean? I'm not sure: Fr. Newton speaks of the Church of England communicating to the unchurched masses, as that oh so important “presence” in the local community, and hopes that the Ordinariate will bring something of the Established Church's respectability with it. So do I- it's another little step towards the conversion of England. However, what is forgotten (or may be not realised) is that yes, the local parish church is a presence in the “community”, but it is a largely irrelevant and ignored one. I strongly suspect that the vast majority of people will not have any idea of the name of their local Vicar, or their Bishop (if indeed they have a local Vicar- they may be in a 6 parish benefice, which sees it's Vicar once in a blue moon, if there's an “R” in the month). Now it is true, these same people probably have not the foggiest who their local chaplain to the Papist Mission is either, but it is not the Established Church.

I must confess, that, when Fr. Newton mentioned non-liturgical patrimony, my thoughts ran to a poem, which oozes patrimony in abundance: the Anglo-Catholic Congresses and a certain verse in particular:
We, who remember, look back to the blossoming May-time
On ghosts of servers and thurifers after Mass,
The slapping of backs, the flapping of cassocks, the play-time,
A game of Grandmother’s Steps on the vicarage grass-
“Father, a little more sherry? - I’ll fill your glass”

You see; I'm too steeped in Anglo-Catholic Patrimony. I'd also like to finish with the last verse of the above poem:

Yet, under the ‘Travers baroque’, in a limewashed whiteness,
The fiddle-back vestments a-glitter with morning rays,
Our Lady’s image, in multiple-candled brightness,
The bells and banners – those were the waking days
When Faith was taught and fanned to a golden blaze.
I do hope so. I really do hope so.