Saint Augustine depicted in a stained glass window by George W Walsh in Saint Augustine’s Church, Galway … ‘The Fire Sermon’ draws heavily on Saint Augustine’s ‘Confessions’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Patrick Comerford
Today, the Calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship remembers Margery Kempe, Mystic (ca 1440) with a commemoration (9 November 2022).
Margery Kempe was born in King’s Lynn in Norfolk in the late 14th century, a contemporary of Julian of Norwich. She received many visions, several of them of the holy family, one of the most regular being of the crucifixion. She also had conversations with the saints. She was much sought after as a visionary, was endlessly in trouble with the Church, rebuked by the Archbishop, and was more than once imprisoned.
Following the messages in her visions, she undertook pilgrimages to many holy places, including Walsingham, Canterbury, Compostela, Rome and Jerusalem, often setting out penniless. She was blessed with the gift of tears and seems to have been favoured with singular signs of Christ’s love, whereby for long periods she enjoyed consciousness of a close communion with him and developed a strong compassion for the sins of the world. Her autobiography, The Book of Margery Kempe, recounts her remarkable life. She died in the mid-15th century.
Before this day gets busy, I am taking some time this morning for reading, prayer and reflection.
Throughout this week, I am reflecting in these ways:
1, One of the readings for the morning;
2, A reflection based on TS Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land,’ first published 100 years ago, in 1922;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary, ‘Pray with the World Church.’
‘… where the walls / Of Magnus Martyr hold / Inexplicable splendour of Ionic white and gold’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … Saint Magnus Martyr Church is one of two London churches named in ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Luke 17: 11-19 (NRSVA):
11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, 13nthey called out, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’ 14 When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, ‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? 18 Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ 19 Then he said to him, ‘Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.’
‘Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song …/Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song / Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … Fishmongers Hall and London Bridge seen from the South Bank near Southwark Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
The Waste Land 3: ‘The Fire Sermon’
TS Eliot published ‘The Waste Land’ in 1922, the same year as James Joyce published Ulysses. The poem includes well-known phrases such as ‘April is the cruellest month,’ and ‘I will show you fear in a handful of dust.’ Recent studies see in ‘The Waste Land’ a description of Eliot’s pilgrimage from the Unitarianism of his childhood to his life-lasting Anglo-Catholicism.
‘The Waste Land’, which I am reflecting on throughout this week, was first published 100 years ago at the end in 1922. It is a masterpiece of modern literature and one of the greatest poems in the English language. Its opening lines are often quoted, even by people who have never read all five sections and 434 lines of the poem.
‘The Waste Land’ was published in Eliot’s The Criterion in October 1922. It was then published in the US in the November issue of The Dial, and was published in book form in December 1922.
To mark the 100th anniversary of the publication of The Waste Land in 1922, I am dipping in and out of the five sections of The Waste Land in this prayer diary each day this week. ‘The Waste Land’ is divided into five sections:
1, ‘The Burial of the Dead’, introduces the diverse themes of disillusionment and despair.
2, ‘A Game of Chess’, employs alternating narrations, in which vignettes of several characters address those themes experientially.
3, ‘The Fire Sermon’, offers a philosophical meditation in relation to the imagery of death and views of self-denial in juxtaposition, influenced by Augustine of Hippo and Eastern religions.
4, ‘Death by Water’, includes a brief lyrical petition.
5, ‘What the Thunder Said’, the culminating fifth section, concludes with an image of judgment.
The third section, of ‘The Waste Land,’ ‘The Fire Sermon,’ offers a philosophical meditation in relation to the imagery of death and views of self-denial in juxtaposition, influenced by Saint Augustine of Hippo and Eastern religions.
The title of this, the longest section of ‘The Waste Land’, is from a sermon by Buddha in which he encourages his followers to give up earthly passions, symbolised by fire, and to seek freedom from earthly things. A turn away from the earthly does indeed take place in this section, as a series of increasingly debased sexual encounters concludes with a river-song and a religious incantation.
A fisherman’s bar is described, then a beautiful church interior, then the Thames itself. Even amidst the moral and physical decay of the Thames River that is depicted in the first stanzas of ‘The Fire Sermon,’ Eliot juxtaposes one physical place, the ruined river, with another place, the Church of Saint Magnus Martyr:
O City city, I can sometimes hear
beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandolin
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
Eliot is recalling an important church in London, the sounds associated with it, and the sights of the people there, which is indicative of his strong attachment to senses and to memory.
These seven lines are a brief digression from a section in ‘The Waste Land’ that is dedicated entirely to describing the vices that are ‘on fire’ in London as the consequences of excessive passions. But the few lines where the poet turns his eyes to Saint Magnus Martyr display a shift in Eliot’s use of sensory experience: the senses, here, are used in a reverent way to remember and contemplate something transcendent of which the church is a vestige.
John Betjeman would later write: ‘the whole district smells of fish, but inside the church there is the abrupt change to a smell of incense.’
In a footnote, Eliot says the interior of the church is ‘one of the finest among Wren’s interiors.’ Barry Spurr notes that Saint Magnus Martyr ‘was one of the leading shrines of the Anglo-Catholic movement and it is very notable that Eliot should not only refer to it, but, in the midst of a poem of almost unrelieved negativity, present it so positively (if somewhat uncomprehendingly) in terms of the exquisite beauty of its interior: its “Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold”.’
Spurr points out that white and gold are ‘the liturgical colours … of Eastertide and resurrection, a concept otherwise denied repeatedly throughout ‘The Waste Land’.’
Father George Every told Spurr that Eliot started frequenting the High Mass at Saint Magnus the Martyr after World War I, and that ‘the influence of the liturgy on the drama was indeed apparent to him before he was a believer. Images out of Murder in the Cathedral and The Family Reunion belong to this time.’ Eliot first enjoyed Saint Magnus aesthetically for its ‘splendour’ and that later he appreciated its ‘utility’ when he came there as a sinner.
This section also refers to Queen Victoria Street, but neither of the two churches on the street, Saint Benet Paul’s Wharf and Saint Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe, are named in this section. On the other hand, this section includes portions of many musical pieces, including Spenser’s wedding song, a soldier’s ballad, a nightingale’s chirps, a song from Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, and a mandolin tune, which has no words but is echoed in ‘a clatter and a chatter from within’.
Mr Eugenides, a Greek merchant from Smyrna in this section, is probably the one-eyed merchant of Madame Sosostris’s tarot pack. His pocket is full of currants, small, seedless and dried grapes that are the deadened version of fertile fruits and the product of The Waste Land, from the infertile land of the Fisher King. His pocket full of this product foreshadows a dark future.
In his notes, Eliot describes ‘The Waste Land’ as a commentary on ‘the present decay of Eastern Europe.’ It is an interesting remark, for one of the most terrifying symbols of that decay in 1922, as Eliot was finalising the text of ‘The Waste Land,’ was the burning of Smyrna.
The Turkish army captured Smyrna on 9 September 1922, promptly proclaimed a jihad and the atrocities against the Greek and Armenian communities began immediately. The Orthodox Metropolitan Chrysostomos was murdered and as many as 100,000 Armenian and Greek Christians were slaughtered throughout the city.
The fire that broke out in Smyrna on 13 September 1922, four days after the capture of the city, is one of the greatest disasters in Greek and Turkish history. The city became the scene of the worst Turkish excesses against the Greek population of Anatolia, and most of the city was burned to the ground in a fire that raged for days.
As thousands of Christians were murdered, allied ships in the harbour stood idly by and for three days refused the pleas of a quarter of a million refugees huddled in terror on the quayside. In desperation, many jumped into the waters they escape their pursuers and drowned before the eyes of the very people who had the means to rescue them.
Raisins and currants were a major part of the trade of Greeks in Smyrna until then. Perhaps Eliot was conscious of the unsavoury and catastrophic consequences for Europe of the genocide of the Christians in Smyrna as he put the finishing touches to ‘The Waste Land,’ subconsciously giving this unsavoury character an identifiable Greek name, and indicating the death of the Christian way of life in major world event at that time.
The Agora in Smyrna … the genocide of Greeks and Armenians in Smyrna by fire and drowning took place weeks before the publication of ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
This section of the poem comes to an abrupt end with a few lines from Saint Augustine’s Confessions and a vague reference to the Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon.’ Eliot claims to have deliberately conflated Augustine and the Buddha, as the representatives of Eastern and Western asceticism. Both seem, in the lines Eliot quotes, to be unable to transcend the world on their own: Augustine must call on God to ‘pluck [him] out,’ while Buddha can only repeat the word ‘burning,’ unable to break free of its monotonous fascination.
Augustine’s Confessions and Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon’ offer a solution for the social and cultural problems that Eliot expresses in his poem. Eliot weaves together the Christian and Buddhist texts in short and seemingly disconnected phrases.
The last five lines of ‘The Fire Sermon’ read:
To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
Burning
The first, third, and fourth lines above are references to Saint Augustine’s Confessions, while the second and fifth lines refer to Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon.’ Eliot presents Saint Augustine and Buddha as the exemplars of asceticism for their particular religious culture.
Eliot alludes to Buddha in order to point out that sensory experience without spiritual guidance is what ignites passions. The title, ‘The Fire Sermon,’ is a direct reference to a sermon in which Buddha, wandering with a congregation of priests, eventually turns to them and says: ‘All things, O priests, are on fire … And with what are these on fire? With the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.’
Eliot sees memory as a vital factor in spiritual salvation, and it is on this foundation that he introduces Saint Augustine’s Confessions as his solution to society’s moral problem.
‘To Carthage then I came’ is a reference to Book III of the Confessions, in which the young Augustine describes the first time he arrived in Carthage and saw how it was filled with worldly vices. The temptations Augustine sees in Carthage echo what Buddha is advising against in his sermon, and he makes use of the term ‘burning’ in the same way that Buddha used it in his Fire Sermon – as a negative way to describe the vices that pull on the soul and lead it to temptation and sin.
After the ‘burning burning burning burning’ cadence that follows the reference to Book III, Eliot draws on Book X in the Confessions:
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
In Book X, Saint Augustine moves from his autobiographical narrative to examine the implications of his spiritual journey. Once he has established the importance of Christianity for spiritual salvation, he elaborates in the rest of the books in his Confessions on how to achieve salvation. Book X discusses the importance and power of memory throughout several chapters.
Saint Augustine does not limit his memory to himself. His ability to analyse and learn from the includes drawing on the faith of others, which creates a collective memory that strengthen his own faith.
The last line in ‘The Fire Sermon’ is the single word ‘burning.’ Perhaps Eliot is signalling to his readers that an absolute rejection of our senses, as Buddha advocated, should not be the solution to our depravity. Instead, our senses should be aided by our memory and our innate disposition towards the divine, much like Augustine did in his search for God.
There are places in ‘The Fire Sermon’ that reveal a remedy, if not a hope, for an ailing society. By using Saint Augustine’s Confessions and Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon’, Eliot is reminding us that the answers to our soul’s depravity are all around us, in our collective culture.
‘At the violet hour, when the eyes and back / Turn upwards from the desk …’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … the clock at Saint Magnus Martyr Church once hung over the access to London Bridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Today’s Prayer (Wednesday 9 November 2022):
The Collect:
Almighty Father,
whose will is to restore all things
in your beloved Son, the King of all:
govern the hearts and minds of those in authority,
and bring the families of the nations,
divided and torn apart by the ravages of sin,
to be subject to his just and gentle rule;
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post Communion Prayer:
God of peace,
whose Son Jesus Christ proclaimed the kingdom
and restored the broken to wholeness of life:
look with compassion on the anguish of the world,
and by your healing power
make whole both people and nations;
through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
The theme in the USPG Prayer Diary this week is ‘A New Commandment.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday by Sue Claydon, chair of the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship.
The USPG Prayer Diary invites us to pray today in these words:
We pray for all those working for peace within families, communities and nations, give them courage and strength in often difficult situations.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
Buddha depicted on a panel at the Japanese Peace Pagoda in Milton Keynes … ‘The Fire Sermon’ takes its title from a sermon by Buddha (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
The statue of Oliver Goldsmith at Trinity College Dublin … Eliot quotes a song from Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ in ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
09 November 2022
Praying in Ordinary Time with USPG
and TS Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land’:
Wednesday 9 November 2022
Labels:
Augustine,
Buddhism,
Christopher Wren,
Galway,
John Betjeman,
London,
London churches,
Milton Keynes,
pacifism,
Poetry,
Saint Luke's Gospel,
Smyrna,
TCD,
Theology and Culture,
TS Eliot,
USPG,
War and peace
An Orthodox cathedral
in London inspired by
a monument in Athens
All Saints Greek Orthodox Cathedral, on the corner of Camden Street and Pratt Street in London (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Patrick Comerford
I have not managed to visit Greece this year, although I have visited a number of Greek churches, including the Greek cathedral in Venice, which I described on this blog yesterday, and the Greek Orthodox parish church in Stony Stratford.
When I was in London last week, I decided to visit the Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Camden Town, which is a ten-minute walk from Euston Road, where I had visited Saint Pancras Church. The church door was ajar, but as I pushed it open I set off the alarms. Full of apologies, I rang the number on the church noticeboard, and so I never got inside the church – at least, not this time.
All Saints Greek Orthodox Cathedral, on the corner of Camden Street and Pratt Street in London, is both a cathedral and a parish church in the Archdiocese of Thyateira and Great Britain under the Ecumenical Patriarchate.
Although the cathedral was first designed as an Anglican church, its architectural design displays interesting Greek inspiration – and the story of the church also recalls the 1798 Rising in Ireland.
The church was originally a Church of England church, All Saints’ Church, Camden Town, within Saint Pancras Parish.
Camden Town was developed from the 1790s on within Saint Pancras parish, then a largely rural parish on the northern fringes of London. Saint Pancras was one of the oldest parish churches in England, but it had been in gradual decline since the 14th century when the bulk of the parish population became the northern parts of what was becoming Kentish Town and Camden Town.
A new parish church, Saint Pancras New Church, on Euston Road in the south of the parish, was consecrated in 1822. But this church, which I described on this blog yesterday (7 November 2022), was intended mainly to serve the population in its immediate vicinity. A Church Building Act in 1818 facilitated building new churches in many new districts in London, including All Saints’ Church in Camden Town.
The church was built in 1822-1824 as part of Lord Camden’s development of the area. John Jeffreys Pratt, 1st Marquess Camden (1759-1840) and 2nd Earl Camden, had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1795-1798 and Secretary of State for War and the Colonies in 1804-1805.
One of Camden’s first actions was the introduction of the bill in 1795 to establish Maynooth College. However, his time in Ireland was turbulent, culminating in the 1798 Rising. His refusal in 1797 to reprieve the United Irishman William Orr, convicted of treason on the word of one witness of dubious credit, aroused great public indignation. To break the United Irish conspiracy, he suspended habeas corpus and unleashed a ruthless martial-law campaign. He resigned immediately after the suppression of the rising.
The church built on Camden’s estate in London in 1822-1824 was first known as the Camden Chapel and then, unofficially, as Saint Stephen’s. It became All Saints’ Church in 1920.
The Monument of Lysicrates in Athens inspired the Inwoods’ design of the tower at All Saints (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The church was designed by the father and son team, William and Henry Inwood, who also designed Saint Pancras New Church. In both cases, they were inspired by Classical Greek architecture. At All Saints, their inspiration for the tower was the Monument of Lysicrates in the Plaka in Athens.
The Choragic Monument of Lysicrates near the Acropolis was erected by the choregos Lysicrates, a wealthy patron of musical performances in the Theatre of Dionysus, to commemorate the prize in the dithyramb contest of the City Dionysia. Lysicrates was the liturgist of the performance in 335/334 BCE.
The monument, also known as Diogenes’ Lantern, is the first known use of the Corinthian order on the exterior of a building. It became part of a French Capuchin monastery in the 1650s and 1660s, and Lord Byron stayed at the monastery during his second visit to Greece.
It has been reproduced widely in modern monuments and building elements, including All Saints in Camden, and Saint Stephen’s Church in Mount Street Crescent, Dublin – popularly known as the ‘Pepper Canister Church’. However, contemporary writers and later architectural critics such as Sir John Summerson argued that the tower in Camden is too thin in proportion to the body of the church.
The Inwoods’ design of the tower at All Saints is often said to be too thin in proportion to the body of the church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
All Saints is a large building of yellow stock brick, with east and west ends faced in Portland stone. The plan is basically rectangular, with an east apse mirrored by a semi-circular portico at the west end. The interior has a flat ceiling, with galleries on three sides supported by Ionic columns. The Ionic order in the church is based on fragments brought back from Greece by Henry Inwood and now in the British Museum.
The church became a parish church in its own right in 1852. Like many Anglican churches in the Victorian era, it had a large congregation in the mid-19th century. Church attendance figures in 1854 showed 1,650 people on Sunday mornings, 630 on Sunday afternoons and 1,430 on Sunday evenings.
The church was close to a number of important train termini and so suffered some damage during the air raids in World War II. Then, as the 20th century progressed, the congregation fell in numbers.
A large Greek-speaking community, mostly from Cyprus, moved into the area in the decades after World War II. All Saints’ Church became a Greek Orthodox church in 1948, while Saint Michael’s Church, Camden Road, became the main Church of England church in Camden Town.
The Greek Orthodox Church of All Saints was formed after a request to Metropolitan Germanos (Strenopoulos) by a group of Greek-Cypriots for the creation of a second Greek Orthodox church in London. The existing dedication of All Saints’ was retained, and celebrates its patronal feast on the first Sunday after Pentecost.
The first Orthodox liturgy was served at All Saints’ Church on Palm Sunday 25 April 1948, with Archbishop Germanos of Thyateira and Great Britain and Archimandrite Parthenios officiating. The church was later bought by the community and was raised to cathedral status. It was consecrated as a cathedral by Archbishop Gregorios of Thyateira, a former parish priest, on 17 November 1991.
Today, the galleried interior is dominated by the icon screen that separates the apse and east end portion from the main body of the church. It was carved in 1974 by Chrysanthos K Taliadorou of Nicosia, who was also responsible for the Holy Table and the ciborium. The main icons on the screen are attributed to a Russian artist living in France, while the icons of the upper range reflect the style of painting in Cyprus.
The windows in the apse include three stained-glass circular panels that probably date from the 18th century and that may be of Flemish or North German origin. They depict the Baptism of Christ, his calling of little children, and the stoning of Saint Stephen. In addition, there is a depiction of the Raising of Jairus’s daughter, in memory of the chaplain of a ship torpedoed during World War I.
The Priest in Charge of the cathedral, the Very Revd Protopresbyter George Zafirakos, was born in Gytheion in Greece in 1949. He studied at the Ecclesiastical Seminary, Patmos (1963-1967), the Ecclesiastical Seminary, Crete (1967-1969), and the Ecclesiastical Academy, Thessaloniki (1969-1972).
He was ordained deacon by Metropolitan Stylianos of Melitoupolis (now Archbishop of Australia) in 1973. He was appointed to All Saints’ Church and was ordained priest by Archbishop Athenagoras II (Kokkinakis) of Thyateira and Great Britain later that year. He became priest-in-charge of the cathedral in 2005. He is also Vice-Chair of the Ecclesiastical Court of the archdiocese.
The church has been renovated a number of times, and it is a Grade I listed building. Many people on Sunday mornings now come to the cathedral from the outer suburbs of London.
All Saints’ Church was built in 1822-1824 as part of Lord Camden’s development of the area (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Patrick Comerford
I have not managed to visit Greece this year, although I have visited a number of Greek churches, including the Greek cathedral in Venice, which I described on this blog yesterday, and the Greek Orthodox parish church in Stony Stratford.
When I was in London last week, I decided to visit the Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Camden Town, which is a ten-minute walk from Euston Road, where I had visited Saint Pancras Church. The church door was ajar, but as I pushed it open I set off the alarms. Full of apologies, I rang the number on the church noticeboard, and so I never got inside the church – at least, not this time.
All Saints Greek Orthodox Cathedral, on the corner of Camden Street and Pratt Street in London, is both a cathedral and a parish church in the Archdiocese of Thyateira and Great Britain under the Ecumenical Patriarchate.
Although the cathedral was first designed as an Anglican church, its architectural design displays interesting Greek inspiration – and the story of the church also recalls the 1798 Rising in Ireland.
The church was originally a Church of England church, All Saints’ Church, Camden Town, within Saint Pancras Parish.
Camden Town was developed from the 1790s on within Saint Pancras parish, then a largely rural parish on the northern fringes of London. Saint Pancras was one of the oldest parish churches in England, but it had been in gradual decline since the 14th century when the bulk of the parish population became the northern parts of what was becoming Kentish Town and Camden Town.
A new parish church, Saint Pancras New Church, on Euston Road in the south of the parish, was consecrated in 1822. But this church, which I described on this blog yesterday (7 November 2022), was intended mainly to serve the population in its immediate vicinity. A Church Building Act in 1818 facilitated building new churches in many new districts in London, including All Saints’ Church in Camden Town.
The church was built in 1822-1824 as part of Lord Camden’s development of the area. John Jeffreys Pratt, 1st Marquess Camden (1759-1840) and 2nd Earl Camden, had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1795-1798 and Secretary of State for War and the Colonies in 1804-1805.
One of Camden’s first actions was the introduction of the bill in 1795 to establish Maynooth College. However, his time in Ireland was turbulent, culminating in the 1798 Rising. His refusal in 1797 to reprieve the United Irishman William Orr, convicted of treason on the word of one witness of dubious credit, aroused great public indignation. To break the United Irish conspiracy, he suspended habeas corpus and unleashed a ruthless martial-law campaign. He resigned immediately after the suppression of the rising.
The church built on Camden’s estate in London in 1822-1824 was first known as the Camden Chapel and then, unofficially, as Saint Stephen’s. It became All Saints’ Church in 1920.
The Monument of Lysicrates in Athens inspired the Inwoods’ design of the tower at All Saints (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The church was designed by the father and son team, William and Henry Inwood, who also designed Saint Pancras New Church. In both cases, they were inspired by Classical Greek architecture. At All Saints, their inspiration for the tower was the Monument of Lysicrates in the Plaka in Athens.
The Choragic Monument of Lysicrates near the Acropolis was erected by the choregos Lysicrates, a wealthy patron of musical performances in the Theatre of Dionysus, to commemorate the prize in the dithyramb contest of the City Dionysia. Lysicrates was the liturgist of the performance in 335/334 BCE.
The monument, also known as Diogenes’ Lantern, is the first known use of the Corinthian order on the exterior of a building. It became part of a French Capuchin monastery in the 1650s and 1660s, and Lord Byron stayed at the monastery during his second visit to Greece.
It has been reproduced widely in modern monuments and building elements, including All Saints in Camden, and Saint Stephen’s Church in Mount Street Crescent, Dublin – popularly known as the ‘Pepper Canister Church’. However, contemporary writers and later architectural critics such as Sir John Summerson argued that the tower in Camden is too thin in proportion to the body of the church.
The Inwoods’ design of the tower at All Saints is often said to be too thin in proportion to the body of the church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
All Saints is a large building of yellow stock brick, with east and west ends faced in Portland stone. The plan is basically rectangular, with an east apse mirrored by a semi-circular portico at the west end. The interior has a flat ceiling, with galleries on three sides supported by Ionic columns. The Ionic order in the church is based on fragments brought back from Greece by Henry Inwood and now in the British Museum.
The church became a parish church in its own right in 1852. Like many Anglican churches in the Victorian era, it had a large congregation in the mid-19th century. Church attendance figures in 1854 showed 1,650 people on Sunday mornings, 630 on Sunday afternoons and 1,430 on Sunday evenings.
The church was close to a number of important train termini and so suffered some damage during the air raids in World War II. Then, as the 20th century progressed, the congregation fell in numbers.
A large Greek-speaking community, mostly from Cyprus, moved into the area in the decades after World War II. All Saints’ Church became a Greek Orthodox church in 1948, while Saint Michael’s Church, Camden Road, became the main Church of England church in Camden Town.
The Greek Orthodox Church of All Saints was formed after a request to Metropolitan Germanos (Strenopoulos) by a group of Greek-Cypriots for the creation of a second Greek Orthodox church in London. The existing dedication of All Saints’ was retained, and celebrates its patronal feast on the first Sunday after Pentecost.
The first Orthodox liturgy was served at All Saints’ Church on Palm Sunday 25 April 1948, with Archbishop Germanos of Thyateira and Great Britain and Archimandrite Parthenios officiating. The church was later bought by the community and was raised to cathedral status. It was consecrated as a cathedral by Archbishop Gregorios of Thyateira, a former parish priest, on 17 November 1991.
Today, the galleried interior is dominated by the icon screen that separates the apse and east end portion from the main body of the church. It was carved in 1974 by Chrysanthos K Taliadorou of Nicosia, who was also responsible for the Holy Table and the ciborium. The main icons on the screen are attributed to a Russian artist living in France, while the icons of the upper range reflect the style of painting in Cyprus.
The windows in the apse include three stained-glass circular panels that probably date from the 18th century and that may be of Flemish or North German origin. They depict the Baptism of Christ, his calling of little children, and the stoning of Saint Stephen. In addition, there is a depiction of the Raising of Jairus’s daughter, in memory of the chaplain of a ship torpedoed during World War I.
The Priest in Charge of the cathedral, the Very Revd Protopresbyter George Zafirakos, was born in Gytheion in Greece in 1949. He studied at the Ecclesiastical Seminary, Patmos (1963-1967), the Ecclesiastical Seminary, Crete (1967-1969), and the Ecclesiastical Academy, Thessaloniki (1969-1972).
He was ordained deacon by Metropolitan Stylianos of Melitoupolis (now Archbishop of Australia) in 1973. He was appointed to All Saints’ Church and was ordained priest by Archbishop Athenagoras II (Kokkinakis) of Thyateira and Great Britain later that year. He became priest-in-charge of the cathedral in 2005. He is also Vice-Chair of the Ecclesiastical Court of the archdiocese.
The church has been renovated a number of times, and it is a Grade I listed building. Many people on Sunday mornings now come to the cathedral from the outer suburbs of London.
All Saints’ Church was built in 1822-1824 as part of Lord Camden’s development of the area (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
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