Thurifer is nostalgic and nearsighted
We are now “living with Covid” as with influenza yet still threat of lockdown. Masks are still in evidence. Not everything is as it was. The social, economic and political consequences of the pandemic are still be played out; the societal scars are evident as is the sense of loss for those who died. Long Covid is as much a feature of society as it is for some individuals’ lives. Will we ever be relaxed again? One of my friends was in hospital twice during the pandemic, not with Covid; once confident, outgoing, social, gregarious, now is anxious and reclusive. Aware of a timidity and that life has become restricted by self-imposed restrictions, he cannot work out how to break free from angst and surfeit of caution.
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The Last Night of the Proms was something like normal, if more restrained than customary. It was all the better. Prommers in the Arena seemed older than days of yore. But it was an audience and not socially distanced. The BBCSO and Chorus were distanced. Conductor, Sakari Oramo, plus soloists wore masks arriving and leaving the stage but not during the performance. Odd in several ways and, like many regulations during the pandemic, confusing. Much as I admire the setting of the National Anthem by Benjamin Britten, which seems to be the anthem of choice for the Proms, it would be good to hear the setting by Sir Arthur Bliss in all its glory, perhaps for the Proms in the 70th Jubilee Year of the Queen’s accession.
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There is still no escape from diaries. The second volume of Chips Channon’s Diaries (1938-1943) was published in autumn and at over a thousand pages took over my free moments for most of October and November. Simon Heffer’s editorial hand remains sure. My favourite: on 12 August 1940 Channon noted that he was suffering constipation “due to grouse eaten twice yesterday”. The footnote reads, “And clearly shot out of season”. Runners’ up: Six Mile Bottom “a renowned partridge shoot in south Cambridgeshire”: “dishonestly inferred” has the footnote, “He means implied”.
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Three deaths this year, apart from that of the Duke of Edinburgh, stood out for me. Bernard Haitink died in October, aged 92. He was the least flamboyant and most unassuming of conductors. Minimal, modest gestures unleashed wonderful sounds and musical insights. Symphonies by Mahler and Bruckner were revelatory and compelling. He gave a luminous performance of Bruckner’s 4th, a problematic work, with the LSO for his 90th birthday which, rightly, was cheered to the rafters.
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About forty years ago, Bishop Alec Graham preached the best sermon I have heard. Among many fine sermons I have heard since, this remains most vividly in the memory. Based on Grünewald’s Crucifixion, it was a masterly discourse on the Passion. That it ended with him standing in a sea of discarded sheets of paper on the pulpit floor oddly added to its intellectual and emotional impact. Reserved, reticent, academic, single he was all a modern bishop is not. He died in May, aged 91.
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Fr John Jay Hughes was an American Episcopalian priest who converted to Rome. Of impeccable pedigree: father and grandfather were priests; direct descendant of first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, he was the author of Absolutely Null and Utterly Void: The Papal Condemnation of Anglican Orders 1890. With scholarly clarity, he detailed the machinations, dissembling, and sleight of hand of Canon Moyes and Bishop Gasquet, with Cardinal Merry del Val pulling the strings, that resulted in the Papal Bull. Pope Benedict remarked that what Pope Leo said cannot be unsaid but in the court of history, the verdict has been reversed. The book allowed Fr Hughes to be the first Anglican ordained conditionally. He died in June after a distinguished pastoral and authorial ministry in St Louis diocese. Requiem aeternam dona eis domine.
Grantchester is one on the more improbable detective series. The local vicar (said to be be based on Robert Runcie, sometime Archbishop of Canterbury: the series is based on books by his son) accompanies the police detective on every case and is present at police interviews. It may be set in the 1950s and things were done differently then, but not that different. He is a rather low churchman (surplice, scarf, and hood) but that is no excuse for him to officiate at a baptism in surplice and hood (MA Cantab) with the scarf replaced by a stole.
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That reminded me of an occasion at Durham Cathedral some thirty years ago when I attended an ordination. With a holy trinity of northern saints, Cuthbert, Bede, and Oswald, its Norman pillars and sacred solidity make it my favourite cathedral. However, by no stretch of the imagination could it then have been accused of Anglo-Catholic tendencies. That was a time when you could search in vain for the Reserved Sacrament. Even Canon Arthur Couratin (sometime Principal of St Stephen’s House) had only limited effect. The memory of that service was a tidal wave of clergy in surplices, scarves and academic hoods processing down the nave to sit in choir. Among the throng I spotted one priest wearing a cotta and stole, carrying a biretta, worn when seated in choir. It seemed a singular protest against the sartorial vulgarity of the clergy at such a great sacrament as ordination to Holy Orders.
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If circumstances allow, enjoy a Holy and Happy Christmas.
Readers may be aware of the excellent lectionary resource produced by Simon Kershaw in a number of formats for adding to Microsoft Outlook, Apple Calendar, iPhone or iPad, Google Calendar and other calendar applications. It includes Collects, readings, liturgical colours and additional information. Customizable and available for free, although the compiler appreciates a donation. Visit almanac.oremus.org to find out more and download.