WHERE DID EASTERTIDE GO?

INADVERTENT POLYCHROMY

St Mary Magdalene’s is a famous example of “structural polychromy”, the art of making buildings colourful by the materials you use, in our case red brick and creamy Bath stone. Yesterday on a walk I discovered a striking example of inadvertent structural polychromy, at Holy Trinity, Brompton Road. This famous church is not a particularly distinguished building, a Commissioners’ church of 1826-9, built in Suffolk brick, which was originally off-white in colour. It was extended to the east by Blomfield in 1879-82, and had a south-west porch added in 1913, and a north-west porch and chapel in 1920-24, and finally a new northern entrance in the last twenty years. When each of these extensions were built, the original building will have been blackened by pollution, and I imagine that the successive architects will have assumed that their additions would tone in, to form part of a coherent whole, but the church has recently been ruthlessly cleaned, and now presents a very odd appearance indeed, because it is a patchwork of different bricks. The nave is the original Suffolk bricks, pale grey after cleaning, but Blomfield’s chancel is pink, and then the two western extensions are bright yellow, while the modern porch is dark brown, which no doubt seemed like a good idea when the rest of the church was dirty, but looks foolish now. I suppose it’s nice for the architectural historian to be able to see the various stages of building laid out like this, but it is hardly aesthetic.

LOCKDOWN

We introverts have rather enjoyed lockdown; it was very strange, but once one established a routine, it wasn’t too bad. I said my prayers and said Mass every day, and read and wrote, and prepared services and sent stuff out to the parishioners, material to help them with prayer and their spiritual lives. There have been funerals to prepare and take, but not the feared  avalanche. It all seemed as though one was actually being liberated to concentrate on the most important parts of one’s ministry. I was terrified by the idea of live-streaming at first, but it became enjoyable. I even filmed myself reading “The Dream of the Rood” as a special Passiontide treat. And, astonishingly, people actually enjoyed it. The challenge now will be to find a way of continuing to live-stream after we resume normal worship. The best period of lockdown was when everyone was paralysed, and there were no meetings going on, but that didn’t last. I was amused to find that I was more familiar with Zoom, thanks to clergy colleagues, than some of my secular co-workers. The thing that has been difficult to understand is why we all feel so tired, when it seems that we are doing less. Perhaps we aren’t in fact doing less, just fewer peripheral things. I also made time during lockdown for getting out on the bike regularly, and I decided that in the absence of real sport I would relive the last two years, so I have been reading the bike race reports from the appropriate day. We’re still in the latter stages of last year’s Giro d’Italia, but Froomey has already won the 2018 edition.  It doesn’t help me forget that I was meant to have spent a few days in Rimini a couple of weeks ago watching this year’s Giro, but reminds me why I love the sport.

LEADERSHIP

Of course, the most striking feature of lockdown for us in the trade has been the Church of England’s failure of leadership. It is quite clear that Cardinal Vincent Nicholls is now the spokesman for English Christianity. The government task force on reopening places of worship came about after the Cardinal’s pressure, and this weekend the Cardinal has publicised his frustration at its work being thwarted by government or civil service. From the Church of England bishops we have heard nothing. In fact, neither the Church of England centrally, not the Diocese of London, chose to inform the clergy that the task force even existed. The bishops caused us great pain by banning us from streaming from our churches for no coherent reason, and personally I can testify to how worthless that made me feel when I had imagined that I had been doing something that was worthwhile in the service of the Gospel. In Holy Week that was a significant psychological burden to have to carry, and it was not how we might have expected our bishops to treat us. The bishops have chosen to act as autocrats and order their clergy to act in particular ways, which is in fact unlawful, but what is really bizarre is the silence that has prevailed over resuming worship. It appears that our bishops do not actually regard worship as important, or the spiritual health of the nation as any concern of theirs. It will be difficult for trust to be regained.