Yesterday, the fourth Sunday before Advent and the twenty-fourth after Trinity, I went to early Communion at Westwell.
The village takes its name from being the site of the most westerly well in Oxfordshire. The church is Norman – the wooden bell-turret is a Victorian addition, now in need of repair. In the churchyard are tombs peculiar to the Cotswolds and the Windrush valley that were put up in the second half of the 17th century. They are known as bale tombs because the top is surmounted by a depiction of a bale of wool.
Inside there is this memorial that also attests to the continuing importance of sheep in the 20th century: “Colonel of the Home Guard and Sheepmaster”.
Even a small church like this has impressive funerary monuments of which one, to Charles Trinder, his wife and fourteen children is the most spectacular. Trinder, a yeoman’s son, came to Westwell to work for Henry Heylin. When he married his master’s daughter he became a gentleman.
Six sons kneel behind Charles on the left and eight daughters behind their mother, Jane, on the right. At Easter posies of violets are placed in their cupped hands. When Charles died in 1657 four of his sons survived him. The two eldest, John and Charles, were Catholics. James II made John Commissioner of the Revenue in Ireland. Subsequently be became a friend of the Pope and died in Poitiers. Charles was Lord of the Manor at Bourton-on-the-Water.
The two younger boys were Protestant. Henry became Sergeant-at-Law and Recorder of Oxford. William was a linen draper in London. A jealous neighbour tried to expropriate the lands belonging to the Catholic brothers, as Papists were forbidden to own land. The Protestant brothers sportingly bought the disputed land for a nominal sum and, once the fuss had died down, sold it back for the same amount.
There were only four of us in the congregation yesterday morning which left me having to read the Gospel. It was the raising of Lazarus from the 11th chapter of St John’s Gospel and it raises some issues. Is it foreshadowing Our Lord’s own death, burial in a cave and resurrection? Christ says that he is performing this miracle as a sign that he has been sent by God. Why does He need to prove Himself to his followers? The sight of a corpse coming to life after four days in a hot climate must have been terrifying. The Canon who preached did not answer these questions but he did give a very moving sermon which touched us all; a pity there wasn’t a larger congregation.
Without wishing to seem competitive, we had two canons at evensong in St James’s. The preacher took the gospel as an example of a scene that must have remained in the minds of all present for the rest of their lives. He then spoke, also movingly, of formative moments in his life. He did include the great line “ Many of you will have seen the sun rise or set over the treasury at Petra”. Only in the Church of England. I felt humiliated as I hadn’t. I got over it.
Next time you are round there I commend to you the Church at Widford , quite close but east of Burford. Extremely small, but charming in inverse proportion.
I shall attempt to respond, as succinctly as possible, to the issues raised by the passage John’s Gospel.
i. The author is correct in viewing the raising of Lazarus as a prefigurement of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ on the third day. It also has a personal application, demonstrating that Christ has the power to raise us from the death of sin to new life in Him (through the victory over death achieved by his own Resurrection).
ii. The Jews still rejected Jesus and there was bitter hostility towards him. The reason for performing the miracle was to authenticate His claims to be the Messiah and Son of God. Christ constantly needs to prove himself to a skeptical world, even to those who claim to be ‘His followers’.
iii. It is perspicacious for the author to notice the terror of the scene. The message of Scripture is often unsettling and disturbing, yet we often fail to recognise this today as we are so focused on a sentimental ‘Love of God’ to appreciate the potential of an ‘all terrible God’.
In a generation when Christianity is highly unfashionable, I applaud the author for continuing to discuss unpopular topics of faith and discipleship. Too many today have eschewed the call of the Gospel in favour of the ‘pic n’ mix’ mentality of postmodernism.
I went to High Mass in St. Stephen’s, Gloucester Road. An Anglo-Catholic service, lots of incense, an emphasis on the Virgin Mary, but disappointingly modern words. Again not to seem competitive, but the principal monument is to T.S. Eliot, who served as a churchwarden. There is an excellent choir, and a series of interesting concerts. The congregation numbered about twenty, pretty poor given its location in central London.