I first visited York Minster in 2009. This window removed a year earlier for conservation was replaced by the world’s largest photocopy. This year is the year of re-installation of what is the largest Gothic stained glass panel on earth. Take a moment and listen the extraordinary care and time required to restore this treasure, not only of our Anglican Church and the United Kingdom but all people.
Christ of the Homeless – Fritz Eichenberg
I want to tell you a story I heard this week. It happened in one of the Episcopal parishes in Memphis last Sunday. The clergy and staff were busy preparing for the service when a man came in from the cold. A staff person saw him and introduced himself. The man’s hands were rigid, clammy cold. He was welcomed in given coffee and a place to warm himself.
Later the Rector learned the back story. The man had tried to get the Union Mission but they were dangerously full. He could find no place to be so he walked through that night because to stop, rest, perchance to sleep, was deadly in 22 degree weather. By morning he had walked a long way and happened upon that parish.
Everyone gathered themselves for church and one of the clergy invited the man to church and he came, sitting near the front behind a parish family. They invited him to communion and he went. The service ended as Episcopal Eucharist does with the congregation dispatched to do ministry in the name of the Lord. As everyone in Church busied themselves preparing to go off to lunch as folk in Memphis have done for generations, the man from the pew in front of the guest asked if he had a coat. “No.” He took off his own overcoat and put it on him.
And the Kingdom came near that parish that morning. And that parish, beloved was this parish, your parish, Saint John’s.
N T Wright, Bishop of Durham (retired)
I was listening to Bishop NT Wright a few days ago as I walked in my neighborhood. He spoke directly to me about these men when he spoke of the empowering nature of the Eucharist, giving those that receive it the energy to become the occasion where Jesus’ incarnation breaks out again.” The moment that coat left its owners back and was slipped on the man Jesus was in-fleshed again – We know what Jesus would have done if he had been there because he WAS there!
While I was in York, I heard Dr. Anthony Campolo lecture in the choir of York Minster.
Anthony Campolo
Britain is in a national debate about these very concerns. Dr. Campolo launched his lecture from Genesis 4: 9 Then the LORD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” He said, “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?”
People rather love quoting Cain. It distances them from any genuine connection. Even in the Church we rather like to quote Cain, of all things? That being as it may, the real answer Dr. Campolo announced is, “You are not your brother’s keeper. You are your brother’s brother!”
That is my very theological point about the encounters in the film and in Saint John’s nave. It is one thing to give, even vast sums of money, from a safe distance and from a higher position. A story from my years in Mississippi is illustrative. The Stew Pot was inter-faith soup kitchen in Jackson. People from lots of religious communities had volunteers who went to serve food at the daily noon meal. That was all well and good until a new director was appointed. He decreed that food would no longer be served at the counter but that the volunteers would serve the homeless at their table and then when they had waited their table sit and eat with the people they served. I don’t need to report the sad fact that when people had to come from behind the safety of the counter, serve as waiters and then break bread with the same people …. they were never seen again.
Mahatma Gandhi
E. Stanley Jones, a Methodist Missionary to India, was a great friend of Mahatma Gandhi. He once asked Gandhi what Christians should do? Jones then writes the following: “The greatest living non-Christian (Gandhi) asks us not to adulterate it or tone it down, not to meet them with an emasculated gospel, but to take it in its rugged simplicity and high demand. But what are we doing? As someone has suggested, we are inoculating the world with a mild form of Christianity, so that it is now practically immune against the real thing.” (E. Stanley Jones, The Christ of the Indian Road, “The Great Hindrance.)
Which leads me to ask me and you the question: If we do not contract a lethal strain of Christianity, how can we die to self as The Holy Spirit penetrates our history and existence…
If we, you and I do not get up from breaking bread and be bread… If we have been fed and refuse to be bread, For God’s sake who will?
This city is starving to death for the very bread that only you and I can be…
That is why when I began to hear from a great distance the new life that was springing up among you as you read the scriptures, how Bible studies were organized not from the corner of Greer and Central but in offices and businesses and homes. When I heard how new energy infused Sunday School as the daily feeding quickened the life force of faith within you, I gave thanks.
Constantine the Great
As I wandered the streets of York, knelt in Churches where human knees have bent for a 1000 years I prayed for you. I stood near the spot that Constantine was proclaimed Emperor and went from that spot to relieve the Church from persecution and there I prayed, I asked the Almighty to give us vision for the freeing of the souls of Memphians from poverty and despair. As I sat in the Quire of the Great Cathedral of Saint Peter, the Prince of Apostles, who failed Jesus yet followed him anyway, and listened to the choir chant ancient Psalms there I asked God to give us strength for the living of these days.
Now that I am among you again, I see that the rumors of your quickening faith are not exaggerated and I give thanks.
What is the way forward? Please join with me in praying. The renewal team continues to meet, your staff and vestry pray and will take counsel together in the days ahead. What I ask of you is that you consider adding the ancient practices into the living of rhythm of your days. Some physicians among us will coach us as we take up fasting. We will offer this before Lent. There are valid ways of anyone to fast. Resources, companions and a map will be provided anyone who will. That is all required. The Renewal Works process will continue as a way of life here.
Before I close, let me speak to you who signed a card in September and now find yourself wandering with the Children of Israel somewhere in the Wilderness of Numbers or Leviticus, if you have read a sentence more scripture than you would have done otherwise that is good news. My philosophy is that anything worth doing is worth doing poorly. So take up you Bible and read. This is not a sprint it is a long distance. No one will be left behind. We are in this together.
To Him be glory, now and forever. Amen.
York Minster, view from the city walls across the River Ouse
The Old Palace/York Minster Library
Feast day: January 12
Patron of bladder stone sufferers
1110 – 1167
St. Aelred of Rievaulx (1109-1167) early showed signs of promise. The son of Eilaf, a Saxon priest, Aelred was educated at Roxburgh,
the ancient Scottish capital, where he was known for his intellectual talents. The DNB notes that as a child, Aelred prophesied the death of a bad archbishop of York; the DNB notes also that scholars doubt this since Thomas, the archbishop at that time, was not bad. When Aelred finished his schooling, he became the steward to King David of Scotland. He left his job c. 1133 to join the Cistercian community at Rievaulx.
He was the first abbot of Rievaulx’s daughterhouse in Revesby, Lincolnshire, but he returned to Rievaulx in 1147 to be abbot. During the last ten years of his life, his health deteriorated, and he suffered from gout and a bad cough. St. Aelred wrote his most famous work, The Mirror of Charity, at the request of Bernard of Clairvaux.
On Spiritual Friendship is a Christianized version of Cicero’s De amicitia. Aelred also penned lives of St. Ninian and of Edward the Confessor, in addition to a rule for recluses and a genealogy of the kings of England. His correspondence and his work on St. Cuthbert have been lost. from Catholic Online
Ruins of Rievaulx Abbey – North Yorkshire UK
Saint Helen’s Square
I sit in Saint Helen’s Square on a York Saturday morning. A long haired man in a boggan cap is singing rock in his own key weaving seamless “thank yous” – inserted as needed, irregular, intermittent lyrics, for coins thrown into the open case at his feet.
In front of m
e is the Famous Betty’s Tea Room dispensing tea & English nurture, cozy since 1919, to a crowd wrapped half-way round the square.
A self-propelled street artist grinds out trinkets for tourists seeking Marco Polo (reversing) the Silk Road, unraveling the ancient trade imbalance caused by silk-mad Roman matrons.
Hanging out with love, I attend Celtic Eucharist at noon. Helen’s nave built in the Middle Ages today seats the middle-aged, the youngest near 50. Outside thousands of young adults wander, circling, loitering near the door, while bewildered Christians wonder how to fill empty pews, young adults wonder how to stop the slow leak in their souls.
English: Saints Constantin and Saint Helen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The cross Saint Helen discovered is re-hidden in plain view round the necks of manikins in Monsoons. The only Virgin displayed in the Centre City today is Virgin Money, a contradiction, false advertising as her easy virtue is known by all. 
Having feasted on the bread of heaven, I retrace my steps, taking my seat on a bench in the middle. A white dove lights amidst the pigeons pecking at bits of bread in the crack…while people eating lunch, munch on manna w/holy ordinary and not…
Nothing is so white – in plain sight. I glance around at souls oblivious. Does none but me see the Holy Bird of God stalking round the square, and inquire “Oh Holy Ghost inspire and lighten with celestial fire.”
That symbolic fowl paces, un-noticed by multitudes of shoes in pairs, and launches into the air a solitary witness to incarnation inspiring me in the synchronicity of my soul.
John W. Sewell
October 6, 2013
York, United Kingdom
The north wall of the North Transept is filled with the imposing mixture of stone and glass that forms the Five Sisters Window. It is the oldest complete window in York Minster and dates from around the year 1260. In comparison to other windows in the building the Five Sister can appear quite dark and confusing. This is, in part, due to the excessive amount of repair leads which confuse the image, and the protective outer glazing that cuts down the amount of light entering the building from the north.
The Five Sisters is made of “grisaille” glass fashionable in the thirteenth century England. Grisaille or Cistercian glass was typically formed by painting complex foliage patterns on pieces of white or silvery grey glass. The pieces were then formed into strong geometric patterns with the skilful use of the lead cames that hold the pieces together, the lead being as integral a part of the design as the glass. Each of the magnificent lancets stands 16.3m tall and is 1.55m wide. In total the window contains over 100,000 individual pieces of glass
– Dean & Chapter of York 2006
I gave Peggy’s money to the girl with orange hair. She held up a bucket with a sign “cure cancer.” “Are you sure?” She was shocked at the three bills; clearly, generosity exceeded her expectations. I didn’t compound her confusion by telling her the truth; the folded paper was intended for a dog and a man who live in the street. Peggy is a black Whippet. Salt and pepper sprinkle her elegant snout. Her Dad, Keith, told me they lost their shelter when the fellow they lived with died. While my discernment of homeless economics is primitive, I suspect that put them in the street was more complicated.
Neither he nor Peggy was malnourished, but autumn in York advanced toward All Hallows’ and Whippets have only fur veneer. She shivered, and he held her, arms wrapped around his best girl giving her more blanket than he could spare. I dropped a few pounds in his hand. “Get you and Peggy something to eat.”. I saw them last where Stonegate meets Saint Helen’s Square. Peggy, wearing a coat like a fashion model, was mighty sporty. “I got her a coat,” Keith grinned. He has a good smile, and only the missing upper front tooth reminds me life is hard. I set aside some pound notes for them.
At twilight, Evensong sung, a solitary high C floated; releasing stacked overtones that whispered down the sound chamber of the Nave.
“Lighten our darkness,we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer – Collect for Protection)
I came out the South Transept down Stonegate searching. The Shops mostly closed, patrons gone, leave shop-keepers to turn the key and turn toward home. Medieval buildings, like eccentric neighbors, leaned out, beckoning across the cobbles, straining to learn the gossip of the day’s trade past. The people lying in the gate alone seem less so in anonymous dark than when ignored by the crowds. I stopped and inquired if they had seen a man and his dog. None had. Full Night fell, and I turned back.
Some would think it odd that a man in the street would have a mouth to feed not his own. They are ignorant. Remember poor ignored sore Lazarus? Was he not comforted in the gate by the dogs. A burden to some, an extravagance to most is all Keith has. He admitted as much when he stroked her elegant neck and whispered, “she’s eight almost an old lady.”
Determined to honor them, that last day I went round again looking but found no “Peg o’ My Heart“. Time ran out. I caught the train to the plane in Manchester. Reluctantly, I gave Peggy’s money to the girl with the orange hair.
October 2013
York, United Kingdom
JWS+
The lid of the baptismal font in the Church of Saint Denys, York
I know my hunting friends call a wild goose a “flying carp” and clearly the sentiment is universal about the gooses’ culinary potential.
Beyond Contradiction 