Easter Monday

One of my favourite places on earth is the chapel of S. Joseph in the shrine Church at Walsingham. It's slightly cramped, the light there never lets you take a good photo, and I believe the shrine hoover is stored behind a curtain at the back of the Chapel. The reason I like it so much, I think, is because on first entering it I experienced an extraordinary sense of deja vu. A few years before, when I was perhaps a month or two old in the faith and still not a confirmed or commincant in the Church of England, I spend three days at the monasteries of Wadi Natrun, the ancient Scetis of Egypt. Staying at the Paramos monastery, I woke up with the bell at 3.40am and practically crawled from the guest house, through the narrow gate into the old monastery complex to the old church. The monks had started Matins and were chanting away in Coptic (monks who can't cope with the Coptic language and visitors with the same weakness are encouraged to attend celebrations in a church opposite the guesthouse). I hung around at the back of the church without a clue what was going on, unable to see much action behind the pillars and screens that separated the monastics from the non-monastics from the laity from the unbaptised from the Anglicans. In a mood to explore, I followed a short passageway into a space that as far as I can remember was pretty much the same size at the S. Joseph chapel in Walsingham, except instead of an altar there was a large icon and reliquary of S. George, and behind the curtain was an altar rather than a hoover. I must have stood there rooted to the spot for over an hour, because by the time I came out the monks were lighting incense for the morning offering and Liturgy and the sun was coming up slowly. I stood looking at the icon pouring out all the prayers of a lifetime of no one to tell them to. I didn't cry, or feel anything dramatic, but my heart was open in prayer and I felt wholly within God's presence. It wasn't until afterwards that I came to realise what had happened, that in some way I had heard God's voice confirming me in my Christian vocation and that where I was and where I was going, He had led me there. I can't imagine what the disciples on the road to Emmaus felt like when they realised what had happened, but it must have been quite similar. Maybe in the midst of their relief and joy at seeing Jesus they felt a sense of frustration, that they'd wasted those moments talking to Him because they didn't know who he was. That intimate presence couldn't just be conjured up again at will, they couldn't just call him back and he'd appear like some sort of friendly ghost, but nonetheless, it was a gift of God, a sign, an encouragement that they would carry with them forever. Most of the collects in Anglican books today include a reference to being fed or given some remedy by God, which made me think back to those moments in the monastery chapel and in Walsingham. There's no switch I can flick to access that sense of peace and tranquility, that sense of the intimate, personal presence of Christ. Still, I can always immerse myself totally in the Liturgical Life of the Church, so full of joy and renewal this Paschaltide, so that I, like the disciples, might know Him daily in the breaking of the Bread.

Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina in Walsingham

Good Walsingham Procession...

Bad Walsingham Procession - I don't see why pilgrims should have to carry Our Lady of Ronseal around, rather than an image that looks more like the real McCoy. Unrobed image-bearers and those funny little pen-lights around the statue. Oh dear.....

Just wanted to share a few photos from this year's pilgrimage to Walsingham with the Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina, which happened this weekend.

The Fraternity has a very interesting history, which you can read below. In common with the Shrine at Walsingham, the Fraternity was a 20th century revival of a medieval institution, and in many ways the modern history of the Fraternity is intimately linked with the Walsingham shrine, reflecting the close partnership between Fr Hope Patten and Fr Fynes-Clinton in the 20th century Catholic movement. The Walsingham shrine at S. Magnus is maintained by the Fraternity, and is an official starting point for pilgrimages to Walsingham. The Fraternity is also represented in the church's fabric by a stained glass window above the Lady Chapel of S. Magnus, which features the Fraternity's badge.

Tat-spotters will notice that in the photos I am wearing a blue sash or ribbon around my neck when robed for serving liturgical or devotional functions. This blue and gold band is the privilege of members of the Court that governs the Fraternity, and it is worn at all Fraternity events and by Court Members whenever they serve or celebrate the Sacraments. If you'd like more information about the Fraternity, or you'd like to join, then please contact me.

From the S. Magnus website :

Fraternity of Our Lady De Salve Regina

A Fraternity was founded in 1343 for the purpose of singing the hymn Salve Regina - a practice that was repeated in a number of other churches of medieval London. Records of neighbouring churches show that they too observe this practice with entries in several wills leaving property and money for the purpose.

Here at St. Magnus the image took the form of the Salutation of the Virgin by the Archangel Gabriel. Subscriptions of the members were devoted towards the five candles that were burnt before the statue during the singing of the hymn. Further allotments of money were used to provide altar cloths, plate and other accessories for the maintenance of the chapel. The architect of Westminster Hall, Henry Yevele, left in his will money to maintain a lamp that was to burn perpetually in front of the statue. Yevele, who died in 1400, was buried in the nearby chapel.

At the time of the Reformation in the 16th century the Fraternity was dissolved, and not reformed again until 1922. Currently [1994] there are some fifty to sixty members. The hymn with petitioning prayers is said or sung after the Eucharist throughout the year. The Fraternity's badge is shown in the stained glass window at the East end of the North wall of the church above the reredos of the Lady Chapel altar.

Five wax candles were burnt in honour of the Five Joys of Mary: 1 The Annunciation St. Luke i, 26-38 2 The Visitation St. Luke i, 39-56 3 The Birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ St. Luke ii, 1-19 4 The Presentation in the Temple St. Luke ii, 22- 39 5 The Finding in the Temple St. Luke ii, 41-51 As recited in the Rosary.