Stowe House, Lichfield ... the home of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, whose family gave their name to Edgeworthstown, Co Longford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
I am enjoying some of my favourite walks in Lichfield this weekend. One walk bring me around Stowe Pool, from Lichfield Cathedral to Netherstowe, Saint Chad’s Church, and Stowe House, which has interesting literary connections that link Lichfield and Ireland.
Richard Lovell Edgeworth (1744-1817), who lived at Stowe House at different times in the second half of the 18th century, shared many of the radical social and political views of his friends in the social and literary circles in Lichfield at the time, including Tomas Day, Erasmus Darwin and the members of the Lunar Society.
Richard, who was born in Bath in 1744 was the son of Richard Edgeworth and his wife Jane (Lovell): the Edgeworth family had extensive estates in Co Longford, and gave their name to Edgeworthstown, where Richard later spent much of his life.
Richard was educated in Ireland at Drogheda Grammar School and Trinity College Dublin, and in England at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. But while he was still an undergraduate, he eloped with Anna Maria Elers in 1763, and they were married at Gretna Green. Their first child Dick was born in 1764 when Richard was still only 19. Their second child Maria, who was born on 1 January 1768, became one of the first important woman authors in the English language and one of Ireland’s leading writers.
When his father died in 1769, Richard inherited the large family estates in Ireland. But instead of returning to Ireland he moved to Lichfield in 1770, and first stayed with his friend Thomas Day who had just moved there too.
He came to the attention of Erasmus Darwin and other members of the Lunar Society because of his interest in all things mechanical. He investigated telegraph communications, agricultural machinery, including a machine for measuring land area, and another for cutting turnips, and improved means of transport, including carriages and an early form of bicycle.
In Lichfield, he also became friends with Anna Seward, the ‘Swan of Lichfield’ and later biographer of Darwin, and her cousins Honora and Elizabeth Sneyd.
Meanwhile, Richard was fascinated by the principles and philosophy of Rousseau, and he and Thomas Day decided to apply these ideas to the education of his son, Dick. The three travelled to France in 1771, where they met Rousseau, and they lived in Lyons for two years. However, Anna Maria Edgeworth died in March 1773, and Richard returned to Lichfield.
Back in Lichfield and living once again at Stowe House with Thomas Day, Richard flirted outrageously with Anna Seward, who was living in the Cathedral Close. She was devastated then when he married her dear friend Honora Sneyd in the Cathedral in 1773. Anna never forgave Richard and carried her hatred into old age. Honora Sneyd had earlier rejected a proposal from Thomas Day. The couple took up residence on the Edgeworth estates in Co Longford, but they soon returned to England, and Honora died in April 1780.
Oddly, Honora recommended that Richard should marry her sister Elizabeth and this he did on Christmas Day 1780. Their marriage was considered somewhat shocking in the moral climate of the day. Elizabeth too had earlier, rejected a proposal from Thomas Day.
In 1782, Richard Edgeworth returned to Ireland once again, this time with his third wife from Lichfield, and with his seven children. Richard was determined to improve the condition of his tenants and his estates and to take care of the education of his children. In 1785, he was one of the founding members of the Royal Irish Academy.
In 1797, Elizabeth Edgeworth died too.
In 1798, Richard and his daughter Maria published Practical Education. This was the year of the United Irish Rebellion and the French invasion. That year too, Richard married his Frances-Anne Beaufort, daughter of the Revd Daniel Augustus Beaufort, and he was elected MP for the borough of St John’s Town, Longford, a constituency that was abolished after the Act of Union.
Eventually, Richard was the father of 22 children by his four wives. He died on 13 June 1817, and was buried in the family vault in Edgeworthstown churchyard.
Maria Edgeworth (1768-1849), who lived in Ireland from the age of five, is one of the great figures in Irish literature, but is often forgotten as a Lichfield literary figure. She was a life-long correspondent with members of the Lunar Society while she was managing the Edgeworthtown estate, where she lived and wrote for most of her life, campaigning for Catholic Emancipation and working for Famine Relief.
Her novels include Castle Rackrent, Belinda, Harrington and Helen. She is buried with her father in the family vault in the Church of Ireland churchyard in Edgeworthstown.
The Market House built by the Edgeworth family in Edgeworthstown, Co Longford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2013)
Last month, travelling from Dublin to Achill, I stopped in Edgeworthstown to see the Market House, built by the Edgeworth family, and decorated with the Edgeworth coat-of-arms.
Edgeworthstown House is now a nursing home run by the Sisters of Mercy.
The Edgeworth family coat-of-arms on the Market House in Edgeworthstown (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2013)
30 March 2013
With the saints in Lent (46), Saint John Klimakos, 30 March
The Ladder of Divine Ascent ... an icon from Mount Sinai based on the work of Saint John Klimakos
Patrick Comerford
I am in Lichfield this Easter weekend, concluding my Lent and anticipating the joys of the Resurrection with my own retreat, following the daily cycle of prayer and Liturgy from Good Friday to Easter Day at Lichfield Cathedral.
Today [30 March], the calendars of the Church commemorate Saint John Klimakos (Ἰωάννης τῆς Κλίμακος), the author of the great spiritual work The Ladder of Divine Ascent. Although Holy Saturday precludes any commemoration of a saint, the ascetic example of Saint John Klimakos is inspiring as we come to the end of our Lenten journey.
The Ladder is one of the most widely read and much-loved books of Orthodox spirituality, and is read especially during Great Lent. It is often read in the refectory in monasteries, and in some churches it is read as part of the Daily Office on Lenten weekdays.
Saint John Klimakos was a seventh century monk in Saint Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. Although his lifespan is often given as 525-606, we have little information about the life of this saint apart from a hagiography by a monk named Daniel of Raithu monastery, who admits he knows nothing about Saint John’s origins.
In various accounts, the date of his birth is given between 505 and 579 in Syria – although other sources say he was born in Constantinople. Any speculation about his birth comes from a much later period. But it is said Saint John came to the monastery on Mount Sinai and became a novice when he was aged about 16.
On Mount Sinai, he was taught about the spiritual life by the elder monk Martyrius. After the death of Martyrius, John withdrew to a hermitage at Tola at the foot of the mountain, about 8 km from Saint Catherine’s.
He lived in his hermitage in Tola for 20 years, constantly studying the lives of the saints, and became one of the most learned of the Church Fathers. There too, he was sought out for spiritual direction, and he also visited several monasteries near Alexandria. Far from being an escape from the world and human life, his retreat led to ardent love for others and for God.
At about the age of 75, the monks of Mount Sinai persuaded him to become their igumen or abbot. As their abbot, he showed great wisdom. Just before his death, he resigned as abbot to return to his solitary life. Once again, various dates are given for his death on Mount Sinai, between 605 and 649.
His Κλίμαξ or The Ladder of Divine Ascent was written in the early seventh century at the request of Abbot John of Raithu, a monastery in Sinai on the shores of the Red Sea.
He also wrote To the Pastor, which may have been an appendix to The Ladder.
In The Ladder, Saint John describes how to raise one’s soul and body to God through the acquisition of ascetic virtues. He uses the analogy of Jacob’s Ladder as the framework for his spiritual teaching.
Each chapter is referred to as a step, and deals with a separate spiritual subject. There are 30 steps of the ladder, corresponding to the age of Christ at his baptism and the beginning of his earthly ministry.
Within the general framework of a ladder, The Ladder is divided into three sections.
The first seven Steps concern general virtues necessary for the ascetic life, while the next 19 (Steps 8-26) give instruction on overcoming vices and building their corresponding virtues. The final four steps (27-30) concern the higher virtues toward which the ascetic life aims. The final rung of the ladder – beyond prayer (προσευχή), stillness (ἡσυχία), and even dispassion (ἀπαθεία) – is love (ἀγάπη).
The Ladder describes how to raise one’s soul and body to God, as if on a ladder, the goal of which is theosis, or mystical union with God. This book is one of the most widely-read among Orthodox Christians, especially during this season of Great Lent. It is often read in the trapeza or monastic refectory during Lent, and in some places it is read in church as part of the Daily Office during the weekdays of Lent.
Saint John Klimakos uses the analogy of Jacob’s Ladder to provide the framework for his spiritual teaching. Each chapter is referred to as a “step,” and deals with a separate spiritual subject. There are 30 steps on the ladder, which correspond with the age of Christ at his baptism and the beginning of his earthly ministry.
The first 23 steps give instruction on overcoming the vices, and the remainder speak of building the virtues.
The Ladder holds dispassionateness (apatheia) as the ultimate contemplative and mystical good in a Christian.
I should advise that reading this book is usually reserved for monastics or lay people who have progressed spiritually, and Orthodox Christians say that this book should only be read with the permission and guidance of a Spiritual Father.
The 30 steps or rungs on the Ladder:
1–4: Renouncement of the world and obedience to a spiritual father
1, Περί αποταγής (on renunciation of the world, or ascetism)
2, Περί απροσπαθείας (on detachment)
3, Περί ξενιτείας (on exile or pilgrimage; concerning dreams that beginners have)
4, Περί υπακοής (on blessed and ever-memorable obedience (in addition to episodes involving many individuals))
5–7: Penitence and affliction (πένθος) as paths to true joy
5, Περί μετανοίας (on painstaking and true repentance, which constitute the life of the holy convicts, and about the Prison)
6, Περί μνήμης θανάτου (on remembrance of death)
7, Περί του χαροποιού πένθους (on joy-making mourning)
8–17: Defeat of vices and acquisition of virtue
8, Περί αοργησίας (on freedom from anger and on meekness)
9, Περί μνησικακίας (on remembrance of wrongs)
10, Περί καταλαλιάς (on slander or calumny)
11, Περί πολυλογίας και σιωπής (on talkativeness and silence)
12, Περί ψεύδους (on lying)
13, Περί ακηδίας (on despondency)
14, Περί γαστριμαργίας (on that clamorous mistress, the stomach)
15, Περί αγνείας (on incorruptible purity and chastity, to which the corruptible attain by toil and sweat)
16, Περί φιλαργυρίας (on love of money, or avarice)
17, Περί αναισθησίας (on non-possessiveness (that hastens one towards heaven)
18–26: Avoidance of the traps of asceticism (laziness, pride, mental stagnation)
18, Περί ύπνου και προσευχής (on insensibility or the deadening of the soul and the death of the mind before the death of the body)
19, Περί αγρυπνίας (on sleep, prayer, and psalmody with the brotherhood)
20, Περί δειλίας (on bodily vigil and how to use it to attain spiritual vigil, and how to practice it)
21, Περί κενοδοξίας (on unmanly and puerile cowardice)
22, Περί υπερηφανείας (on the many forms of vainglory)
23, Περί λογισμών βλασφημίας (on mad pride and, in the same step, on unclean blasphemous thoughts; concerning unmentionable blasphemous thoughts)
24, Περί πραότητος και απλότητος (on meekness, simplicity, and guilelessness, which come not from nature but from conscious effort, and on guile)
25, Περί ταπεινοφροσύνης (on the destroyer of the passions, most sublime humility, which is rooted in spiritual perception)
26, Περί διακρίσεως (on discernment of thoughts, passions and virtues; on expert discernment; brief summary of all aforementioned)
27–29: Acquisition of hesychia, or peace of the soul, of prayer, and of apatheia (dispassion or equanimity with respect to afflictions or suffering)
27, Περί ησυχίας (on holy stillness of body and soul; different aspects of stillness and how to distinguish them)
28, Περί προσευχής (on holy and blessed prayer, the mother of virtues, and on the attitude of mind and body in prayer)
29, Περί απαθείας (on heaven on earth, or God-like dispassion and perfection, and the resurrection of the soul before the general resurrection)
30, Περί αγάπης, ελπίδος και πίστεως (on linking together the supreme trinity among the virtues; a brief exhortation summarising all that has said at length in this book).
Orthodox Commemorations
The feast day of Saint John Klimakos is 30 March. However, because of the saint’s popularity, the Orthodox Church also commemorates him on the Fourth Sunday in Lent. As a Sunday of Great Lent, the commemoration is celebrated with the Divine Liturgy of Saint Basil the Great, which is preceded by Matins (Orthros). Great Vespers is conducted on Saturday evening.
The Scripture readings for the Fourth Sunday of Lent are: at Orthros (Matins), the prescribed weekly Gospel reading; at the Divine Liturgy, Hebrews 6: 13-20; Mark 9: 17-31.
Hymns of the Feast:
Apolytikion: Plagal of the Fourth Tone
With the rivers of your tears,
you have made the barren desert fertile.
Through sighs of sorrow from deep within you,
your labours have borne fruit a hundredfold.
By your miracles you have become a light,
shining upon the world.
O John, our Holy Father,
pray to Christ our God, to save our souls.
Kontakion: First Tone
As ever-blooming fruits,
you offer the teachings of your God-given book,
O wise John, most blessed,
while sweetening the hearts of all them that heed it with vigilance;
for it is a ladder from the earth unto Heaven
that confers glory on the souls
that ascend it and honour you faithfully.
Great Vespers: Tone Plagal of the First
O righteous Father,
you heard the voice of the Gospel
and forsook the world, riches, and glory,
counting them as naught.
And so, you cried to all:
love God, and you will find eternal favour.
Put nothing above his love,
that when he comes in his glory
you may find rest with all the saints.
And so, by their intercessions,
O Christ God,
preserve and save our souls.
Icons of The Ladder of Divine Ascent
The Ladder of Divine Ascent ... a modern icon by Athanasios Clark
An icon of the same title, The Ladder of Divine Ascent, depicts a ladder extending from earth to heaven (see Genesis 28: 12). Several monks are seen climbing a ladder. At the top is Christ, prepared to receive them into Heaven. Angels are helping the climbers, and demons are trying to shoot them with arrows or to drag the climbers down, no matter how high up the ladder they may be.
The best-known version of this icon, a small 12th century work, is one of the best-known icons in Saint Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. It was one of the principle exhibits at the Byzantium exhibition in the Royal Academy of Arts in London four years ago, which I reviewed for the Athens News.
Most versions of the icon show at least one person falling off the ladder and down into hell. Often, in a lower corner, Saint John Klimakos is shown gesturing towards the ladder, with rows of monks behind him.
Series concluded
Patrick Comerford
I am in Lichfield this Easter weekend, concluding my Lent and anticipating the joys of the Resurrection with my own retreat, following the daily cycle of prayer and Liturgy from Good Friday to Easter Day at Lichfield Cathedral.
Today [30 March], the calendars of the Church commemorate Saint John Klimakos (Ἰωάννης τῆς Κλίμακος), the author of the great spiritual work The Ladder of Divine Ascent. Although Holy Saturday precludes any commemoration of a saint, the ascetic example of Saint John Klimakos is inspiring as we come to the end of our Lenten journey.
The Ladder is one of the most widely read and much-loved books of Orthodox spirituality, and is read especially during Great Lent. It is often read in the refectory in monasteries, and in some churches it is read as part of the Daily Office on Lenten weekdays.
Saint John Klimakos was a seventh century monk in Saint Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. Although his lifespan is often given as 525-606, we have little information about the life of this saint apart from a hagiography by a monk named Daniel of Raithu monastery, who admits he knows nothing about Saint John’s origins.
In various accounts, the date of his birth is given between 505 and 579 in Syria – although other sources say he was born in Constantinople. Any speculation about his birth comes from a much later period. But it is said Saint John came to the monastery on Mount Sinai and became a novice when he was aged about 16.
On Mount Sinai, he was taught about the spiritual life by the elder monk Martyrius. After the death of Martyrius, John withdrew to a hermitage at Tola at the foot of the mountain, about 8 km from Saint Catherine’s.
He lived in his hermitage in Tola for 20 years, constantly studying the lives of the saints, and became one of the most learned of the Church Fathers. There too, he was sought out for spiritual direction, and he also visited several monasteries near Alexandria. Far from being an escape from the world and human life, his retreat led to ardent love for others and for God.
At about the age of 75, the monks of Mount Sinai persuaded him to become their igumen or abbot. As their abbot, he showed great wisdom. Just before his death, he resigned as abbot to return to his solitary life. Once again, various dates are given for his death on Mount Sinai, between 605 and 649.
His Κλίμαξ or The Ladder of Divine Ascent was written in the early seventh century at the request of Abbot John of Raithu, a monastery in Sinai on the shores of the Red Sea.
He also wrote To the Pastor, which may have been an appendix to The Ladder.
In The Ladder, Saint John describes how to raise one’s soul and body to God through the acquisition of ascetic virtues. He uses the analogy of Jacob’s Ladder as the framework for his spiritual teaching.
Each chapter is referred to as a step, and deals with a separate spiritual subject. There are 30 steps of the ladder, corresponding to the age of Christ at his baptism and the beginning of his earthly ministry.
Within the general framework of a ladder, The Ladder is divided into three sections.
The first seven Steps concern general virtues necessary for the ascetic life, while the next 19 (Steps 8-26) give instruction on overcoming vices and building their corresponding virtues. The final four steps (27-30) concern the higher virtues toward which the ascetic life aims. The final rung of the ladder – beyond prayer (προσευχή), stillness (ἡσυχία), and even dispassion (ἀπαθεία) – is love (ἀγάπη).
The Ladder describes how to raise one’s soul and body to God, as if on a ladder, the goal of which is theosis, or mystical union with God. This book is one of the most widely-read among Orthodox Christians, especially during this season of Great Lent. It is often read in the trapeza or monastic refectory during Lent, and in some places it is read in church as part of the Daily Office during the weekdays of Lent.
Saint John Klimakos uses the analogy of Jacob’s Ladder to provide the framework for his spiritual teaching. Each chapter is referred to as a “step,” and deals with a separate spiritual subject. There are 30 steps on the ladder, which correspond with the age of Christ at his baptism and the beginning of his earthly ministry.
The first 23 steps give instruction on overcoming the vices, and the remainder speak of building the virtues.
The Ladder holds dispassionateness (apatheia) as the ultimate contemplative and mystical good in a Christian.
I should advise that reading this book is usually reserved for monastics or lay people who have progressed spiritually, and Orthodox Christians say that this book should only be read with the permission and guidance of a Spiritual Father.
The 30 steps or rungs on the Ladder:
1–4: Renouncement of the world and obedience to a spiritual father
1, Περί αποταγής (on renunciation of the world, or ascetism)
2, Περί απροσπαθείας (on detachment)
3, Περί ξενιτείας (on exile or pilgrimage; concerning dreams that beginners have)
4, Περί υπακοής (on blessed and ever-memorable obedience (in addition to episodes involving many individuals))
5–7: Penitence and affliction (πένθος) as paths to true joy
5, Περί μετανοίας (on painstaking and true repentance, which constitute the life of the holy convicts, and about the Prison)
6, Περί μνήμης θανάτου (on remembrance of death)
7, Περί του χαροποιού πένθους (on joy-making mourning)
8–17: Defeat of vices and acquisition of virtue
8, Περί αοργησίας (on freedom from anger and on meekness)
9, Περί μνησικακίας (on remembrance of wrongs)
10, Περί καταλαλιάς (on slander or calumny)
11, Περί πολυλογίας και σιωπής (on talkativeness and silence)
12, Περί ψεύδους (on lying)
13, Περί ακηδίας (on despondency)
14, Περί γαστριμαργίας (on that clamorous mistress, the stomach)
15, Περί αγνείας (on incorruptible purity and chastity, to which the corruptible attain by toil and sweat)
16, Περί φιλαργυρίας (on love of money, or avarice)
17, Περί αναισθησίας (on non-possessiveness (that hastens one towards heaven)
18–26: Avoidance of the traps of asceticism (laziness, pride, mental stagnation)
18, Περί ύπνου και προσευχής (on insensibility or the deadening of the soul and the death of the mind before the death of the body)
19, Περί αγρυπνίας (on sleep, prayer, and psalmody with the brotherhood)
20, Περί δειλίας (on bodily vigil and how to use it to attain spiritual vigil, and how to practice it)
21, Περί κενοδοξίας (on unmanly and puerile cowardice)
22, Περί υπερηφανείας (on the many forms of vainglory)
23, Περί λογισμών βλασφημίας (on mad pride and, in the same step, on unclean blasphemous thoughts; concerning unmentionable blasphemous thoughts)
24, Περί πραότητος και απλότητος (on meekness, simplicity, and guilelessness, which come not from nature but from conscious effort, and on guile)
25, Περί ταπεινοφροσύνης (on the destroyer of the passions, most sublime humility, which is rooted in spiritual perception)
26, Περί διακρίσεως (on discernment of thoughts, passions and virtues; on expert discernment; brief summary of all aforementioned)
27–29: Acquisition of hesychia, or peace of the soul, of prayer, and of apatheia (dispassion or equanimity with respect to afflictions or suffering)
27, Περί ησυχίας (on holy stillness of body and soul; different aspects of stillness and how to distinguish them)
28, Περί προσευχής (on holy and blessed prayer, the mother of virtues, and on the attitude of mind and body in prayer)
29, Περί απαθείας (on heaven on earth, or God-like dispassion and perfection, and the resurrection of the soul before the general resurrection)
30, Περί αγάπης, ελπίδος και πίστεως (on linking together the supreme trinity among the virtues; a brief exhortation summarising all that has said at length in this book).
Orthodox Commemorations
The feast day of Saint John Klimakos is 30 March. However, because of the saint’s popularity, the Orthodox Church also commemorates him on the Fourth Sunday in Lent. As a Sunday of Great Lent, the commemoration is celebrated with the Divine Liturgy of Saint Basil the Great, which is preceded by Matins (Orthros). Great Vespers is conducted on Saturday evening.
The Scripture readings for the Fourth Sunday of Lent are: at Orthros (Matins), the prescribed weekly Gospel reading; at the Divine Liturgy, Hebrews 6: 13-20; Mark 9: 17-31.
Hymns of the Feast:
Apolytikion: Plagal of the Fourth Tone
With the rivers of your tears,
you have made the barren desert fertile.
Through sighs of sorrow from deep within you,
your labours have borne fruit a hundredfold.
By your miracles you have become a light,
shining upon the world.
O John, our Holy Father,
pray to Christ our God, to save our souls.
Kontakion: First Tone
As ever-blooming fruits,
you offer the teachings of your God-given book,
O wise John, most blessed,
while sweetening the hearts of all them that heed it with vigilance;
for it is a ladder from the earth unto Heaven
that confers glory on the souls
that ascend it and honour you faithfully.
Great Vespers: Tone Plagal of the First
O righteous Father,
you heard the voice of the Gospel
and forsook the world, riches, and glory,
counting them as naught.
And so, you cried to all:
love God, and you will find eternal favour.
Put nothing above his love,
that when he comes in his glory
you may find rest with all the saints.
And so, by their intercessions,
O Christ God,
preserve and save our souls.
Icons of The Ladder of Divine Ascent
The Ladder of Divine Ascent ... a modern icon by Athanasios Clark
An icon of the same title, The Ladder of Divine Ascent, depicts a ladder extending from earth to heaven (see Genesis 28: 12). Several monks are seen climbing a ladder. At the top is Christ, prepared to receive them into Heaven. Angels are helping the climbers, and demons are trying to shoot them with arrows or to drag the climbers down, no matter how high up the ladder they may be.
The best-known version of this icon, a small 12th century work, is one of the best-known icons in Saint Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. It was one of the principle exhibits at the Byzantium exhibition in the Royal Academy of Arts in London four years ago, which I reviewed for the Athens News.
Most versions of the icon show at least one person falling off the ladder and down into hell. Often, in a lower corner, Saint John Klimakos is shown gesturing towards the ladder, with rows of monks behind him.
Series concluded
Light in the darkness
Today’s edition of The Irish Times [29 March 2013] carries the following full-length editorial on page 15:
Light in the
Darkness
The snow that has blanketed Ireland and Britain for the past week gives the landscape an appearance that is more appropriate for scenes on Christmas cards than for contemplating the significance of Good Friday and Easter. It is just possible, in a moment of fantasy, to imagine congregations in churches across the land this weekend singing In the bleak mid-winter. Christina Rossetti’s poem, set to music by Gustav Holst and Harold Darke, was named some years ago in a poll of choir directors and choral experts as the best Christmas carol. But in this poem and carol, Christina Rossetti seeks to link the message of the incarnation at Christmas with the triumph and hope of Easter as she writes:
Our God, heav’n cannot hold him
nor earth sustain;
heav'n and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign …
In an unusual coincidence, last week saw the beginning of the reigns of a new pope and a new Archbishop of Canterbury. Yet both church leaders, with patterns of leadership that are marked by personal humility and effacement, would eschew words like “reign” that imply monarchical styles of leadership. Instead, both Pope Francis and Archbishop Justin Welby appear to be keen to pattern their style of leadership on Christ as the Suffering Servant rather than on prelates from the past who ruled like reigning princes.
* * * * *
St John’s Gospel, in its account of Holy Week and Good Friday, puts love at the heart of Christian faith and hope. Pope Francis celebrated his Maundy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper in the chapel of Casal del Marmo, a juvenile prison in Rome where most of the inmates are foreign-born and Muslim, some have no religious beliefs, and until his visit many had probably not known of the pope.
All previous popes in living memory have said this Mass either in Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican or in the Basilica of Saint John Lateran in Rome. It was a humble act of love typical of those marking out this papacy as different from all others, and it rings true with Christ’s own words after he washed his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15: 16).
Archbishop Welby also arrived in humility at Canterbury Cathedral last week. He came as a pilgrim rather than in triumph, having spent the previous days on what was described as his “Journey in Prayer,” kneeling in prayer in a pilgrimage that brought him through the dioceses of the Church of England. Before he took up office, Pope-Emeritus Benedict wrote to the new archbishop reminding him that “the preacher’s task, as a messenger of hope, is to speak the truth with love, shedding the light of Christ into the darkness of people’s lives.”
This humility and servant-ministry from church leaders resonate throughout Europe this week, bringing light and hope into the darkness and the gloom that has been created not just by the weather, but by a financial crisis that seems to be biting even deeper, with everyone now feeling the consequences of the uncertainties created in Cyprus.
How many would pray this Good Friday that the humility of church leaders would be taken up as a moral course by our political leaders? Who can provide hope for the mother struggling to pay the mortgage and for childcare and who fears being told to give up her job? Who can bring hope to the family burdened by debt and without health insurance but facing mounting medical bills? Who can offer hope to the families of young suicide victims or of young graduates unable to find employment and forced to emigrate, perhaps never to return?
* * * * *
Of course, politicians cannot offer immediate remedies; and the problems our economies face need to be solved on a European scale too. But both Pope Francis and Archbishop Welby - in following Christ’s example of leadership, marked by humility on the evening before his crucifixion - have shown a fresh and much-needed approach to leadership, that reaches out to the marginalised, those without hope, those living in darkness. It is hard to believe in this unusual wintery weather that the clocks go forward tomorrow night and that summer time officially begins on Sunday morning.
But both Pope Francis and Archbishop Welby have already shown that humility and compassion shine light in the darkness, offering real hope in the midst of despair and demonstrating true leadership that is often cruelly lacking. They offer gripping challenges to our politicians and their styles of leadership.
Light in the
Darkness
The snow that has blanketed Ireland and Britain for the past week gives the landscape an appearance that is more appropriate for scenes on Christmas cards than for contemplating the significance of Good Friday and Easter. It is just possible, in a moment of fantasy, to imagine congregations in churches across the land this weekend singing In the bleak mid-winter. Christina Rossetti’s poem, set to music by Gustav Holst and Harold Darke, was named some years ago in a poll of choir directors and choral experts as the best Christmas carol. But in this poem and carol, Christina Rossetti seeks to link the message of the incarnation at Christmas with the triumph and hope of Easter as she writes:
Our God, heav’n cannot hold him
nor earth sustain;
heav'n and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign …
In an unusual coincidence, last week saw the beginning of the reigns of a new pope and a new Archbishop of Canterbury. Yet both church leaders, with patterns of leadership that are marked by personal humility and effacement, would eschew words like “reign” that imply monarchical styles of leadership. Instead, both Pope Francis and Archbishop Justin Welby appear to be keen to pattern their style of leadership on Christ as the Suffering Servant rather than on prelates from the past who ruled like reigning princes.
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St John’s Gospel, in its account of Holy Week and Good Friday, puts love at the heart of Christian faith and hope. Pope Francis celebrated his Maundy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper in the chapel of Casal del Marmo, a juvenile prison in Rome where most of the inmates are foreign-born and Muslim, some have no religious beliefs, and until his visit many had probably not known of the pope.
All previous popes in living memory have said this Mass either in Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican or in the Basilica of Saint John Lateran in Rome. It was a humble act of love typical of those marking out this papacy as different from all others, and it rings true with Christ’s own words after he washed his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15: 16).
Archbishop Welby also arrived in humility at Canterbury Cathedral last week. He came as a pilgrim rather than in triumph, having spent the previous days on what was described as his “Journey in Prayer,” kneeling in prayer in a pilgrimage that brought him through the dioceses of the Church of England. Before he took up office, Pope-Emeritus Benedict wrote to the new archbishop reminding him that “the preacher’s task, as a messenger of hope, is to speak the truth with love, shedding the light of Christ into the darkness of people’s lives.”
This humility and servant-ministry from church leaders resonate throughout Europe this week, bringing light and hope into the darkness and the gloom that has been created not just by the weather, but by a financial crisis that seems to be biting even deeper, with everyone now feeling the consequences of the uncertainties created in Cyprus.
How many would pray this Good Friday that the humility of church leaders would be taken up as a moral course by our political leaders? Who can provide hope for the mother struggling to pay the mortgage and for childcare and who fears being told to give up her job? Who can bring hope to the family burdened by debt and without health insurance but facing mounting medical bills? Who can offer hope to the families of young suicide victims or of young graduates unable to find employment and forced to emigrate, perhaps never to return?
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Of course, politicians cannot offer immediate remedies; and the problems our economies face need to be solved on a European scale too. But both Pope Francis and Archbishop Welby - in following Christ’s example of leadership, marked by humility on the evening before his crucifixion - have shown a fresh and much-needed approach to leadership, that reaches out to the marginalised, those without hope, those living in darkness. It is hard to believe in this unusual wintery weather that the clocks go forward tomorrow night and that summer time officially begins on Sunday morning.
But both Pope Francis and Archbishop Welby have already shown that humility and compassion shine light in the darkness, offering real hope in the midst of despair and demonstrating true leadership that is often cruelly lacking. They offer gripping challenges to our politicians and their styles of leadership.
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