14 March 2026

Finding a sculpture by
Naomi Blake and works
of modern art in the parish
church in Little Walsingham

‘Genesis’, a sculpture in resin bronze by Naomi Blake (1924-2018) in Saint Mary and All Saints Church, Little Walsingham (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

The closing acts of worship during this week’s Ecumenical Pilgrimage to Walsingham were in the Shrine Church, led by Prebendary Norman Wallwork and the Revd Dr Richard Clutterbuck, and in the Parish Church of Saint Mary and All Saints in Little Walsingham, where the celebrant and preacher was Bishop Lindsay Urwin of the Diocese of Southwark.

The parish church in Little Walsingham, which I hope to describe in another posting, holds three important works of art from the 1980s, commissioned in association with ‘Art in Churches’: ‘Genesis’ (1986) by Naomi Blake; Ruth Duckworth’s untitled ceramic relief installed in 1988; and ‘Spring Carpet’ (1985), a painting by John Riches.

‘Genesis’ is a sculpture in resin bronze by Naomi Blake (1924-2018) which she ‘dedicated to the sanctity of life’ and depicts a mother and child. Both the title of the sculpture and its subject suggest her Jewish background and faith. Naomi Blake is a Jewish sculptor who was born in the former Czechoslovakia, and her work can be seen in cathedrals and churches and other locations throughout England.

Blake’s works that I have written about in the past include two sculptures at the Royal Foundation of Saint Katharine in Limehouse, London, ‘Genesis’ (1994) and ‘Love is My Meaning’ (2000), and ‘View’ in Fitzroy Square Garden, London.

Naomi Blake was born in Mukaĉevo, Czechoslovakia (now Mukacheve, Ukraine) to Jewish parents in 1924. The youngest of 10 children, her original name was Zisel Dum – she was named Zisel, meaning ‘sweet’, by her parents. She survived the Holocaust as a child in Auschwitz, although many members of her family died there.

In 1942, her family included 32 members: four grandparents, her parents, nine siblings, six spouses and 10 young nieces and nephews. In 1944, when Naomi was 20, most of her family was deported to Auschwitz and she was separated from everyone except her older sister Malchi; her father, another sister and her nieces and nephews were led into the gas chambers. She returned to Mukacevo in July 1945 to find her family home in ruins and that of the 32 family members before the war, only had seven survived by 1945.

After World War II, she lived in Milan, Rome and Jerusalem, before making her home in North London. She changed her name to Naomi in 1948 and she left Israel in 1952 to seek medical help and rejoin members of her family.

She met and married a young German refugee, Asher Blake, they settled in London, and they were the parents of two children, Jonathan and Anita (Nin). The early days were not easy as she knew no-one, spoke poor English and had no qualifications. But Asher encouraged Naomi to pursue her love of sculpture as a career. She enrolled at the Hornsey School of Art, now Middlesex University, and she studied there in 1955-1960.

Naomi’s work began with ceramic pots and portrait sculpture, progressing to figurative and then abstract work. Sculpting originally in clay and then in polystyrene for casting in bronze, she gradually reintroduced figurative elements in her work, showing the influences of Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth.

Her work developed through a cycle of embryonic forms, enclosed and protected figures, gradually opening out ‘to free the figure from its haven to stand against all adversity and spread its free wings.’ With her great interest in Jewish life and learning, she also sculpted imposing, expressive Biblical figures, bringing to life their strength and character.

Through her work, Naomi Blake promoted understanding between faiths. Her work has been exhibited in many galleries in Britain and abroad, and her sculptures can be seen in many places of worship such as the cathedrals in Bristol, Chelmsford and Norwich, Saint Ethelburga’s Church, London, Saint Botolph’s Church, Aldgate, Saint James’ Church, Muswell Hill, All Saints’ Church, East Finchley, the Royal Foundation of Saint Katharine’s, Limehouse, and synagogues in Finchley, Hampstead Garden, Kingsbury, Leeds and Oxford, as well as the National Holocaust Centre in Newark, Nottinghamshire. Her work is also in many royal collections and in public places such as Great Ormond Street Hospital, the University of Leicester, and Fitzroy Square.

Naomi Blake’s ‘Genesis’ (1994) in the gardens of Saint Katharine’s, Limehouse … given ‘to promote understanding between people of different faiths’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Naomi Blake’s ‘Genesis’ (1994) in the Royal Foundation of Saint Katharine’s, Limehouse, is a figure of a mother and child with an inscription explaining that the work was given in honour of Lady Elizabeth Basset and ‘to promote understanding between people of different faiths.’

Her ‘Genesis’ (1984) in Little Walsingham predates that by ten years. The viewer may, perhaps, recall the words of Isaiah: ‘Look to the rock from when you were hewn, to the quarry from which you were dug; look to your father Abraham and to Sarah who gave you birth’ (Isaiah 51: 1-2).

In its present setting, in a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the sculpture is interpreted, inevitably, as a Madonna and Child. In this context, the title ‘Genesis’ reminds the Christian that the Incarnation is about a new beginning, or genesis for humanity.

‘Genesis’ was the gift of the artist to the church. She dedicated the sculpture to ‘The Sanctity of Life’ and this dedication proclaims the common conviction of Jew and Christian that human life has a special holiness through the gift of God.

In spite of her Holocaust experiences, Naomi Blake believed ‘there is something positive in the human figure – there is a lot of good in people … with my past, if I were pessimistic, somehow, it wouldn’t have been worthwhile surviving.’

Naomi Blake died on 7 November 2018. Her daughter Anita Peleg, published two books devoted to her life and work: Naomi Blake: Dedication in Sculpture, a comprehensive catalogue of her sculptures; and Glimmer of Hope: The Story of Naomi Blake, telling the story of how she defied the odds and survived to bring joy to thousands.

Ruth Duckworth’s untitled ceramic relief, installed in the church in Little Walsingham in 1988 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Ruth Duckworth’s untitled ceramic relief was installed in the church in Little Walsingham in 1988 with the support of Art in Churches, and was the gift of Peter Palumbo. The artist has deliberately left the mural untitled so that no one interpretation is imposed on the person looking at it. It evokes different ideas and thoughts in different people, but ultimately the subtlety of line and colour is sufficient to make it appropriate to its setting. The coloured folds which emerge from the alcove in two distinct sections suggest, on some interpretations, this present life and the life to come.

Ruth Duckworth (1919-2009) was a modernist sculptor who specialised in ceramics, she worked in stoneware, porcelain and bronze. Her sculptures are mostly untitled. She is best known for Clouds over Lake Michigan, a wall sculpture.

She was born Ruth Windmüller in Hamburg, the daughter of Ellen Strack, a Lutheran, and Edgar Albert Windmüller, a Jewish lawyer. She left Nazi Germany in 1936 to study at the Liverpool College of Art and later studied at the Hammersmith School of Art and at the City and Guilds of London Art School.

She married the British artist Aidron Duckworth in 1949 and they later moved to the US in 1964, where Ruth taught at the University of Chicago and was a visiting professor of sculpture at the University of Illinois. The couple divorced in 1967.

‘Spring Carpet’, a painting by John Riches (1941-1999) in the church in Little Walsingham (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

‘Spring Carpet’ in the church in Little Walsingham is a painting by John Riches (1941-1999), who was originally from Norwich and who returned in 1972 to teach at the Norwich School of Art. His later work was strongly influenced by his interest in church iconography and mediaeval decoration.

‘Spring Carpet’ speaks of new life by means of light filtered through branches speckling the earth which harbours the new buds of life.

It was appropriate that I saw this work in springtime, because The artist asked that his painting should hang in a place where the sunlight would fall on it, with the shadows made by the window tracery giving the impression the sunlight was filtering down through the branches of trees onto the earth, earth in which new plant life is springing up.

These three works of contemporary art were added to Saint Mary and All Saints Church following exhibitions in the church from 1985 to 1988 and with the support of Art in Churches. They were originally grouped at the entrance to the Lady Chapel. But Naomi Blake’s ‘Genesis’ has since been moved to a corner at the west end and sadly it is easily missed by people entering and leaving the church by the north door at the west end.

Naomi Blake's ‘Genesis’ is hidden when the north-west door is opened in the church in Little Walsingham (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Daily prayer in Lent 2026:
25, Saturday 14 March 2026

The Pharisee and the Publican (Luke 18: 9-14) … a stained glass window in Saint Michael’s Church, Limerick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We have passed the half-way point in Lent, and tomorrow is the Fourth Sunday in Lent (Lent IV, 15 March 2026) and Mothering Sunday or Mothers’ Day.

Today is the decisive and final day in the Six Nations championship, promising wall-to-wall rugby. After an exciting weekend of rugby last weekend, I hope to find somewhere appropriate in Stony Stratford to watch today’s fixtures: Ireland v Scotland (14:10), Wales v Italy (16:40), and France v England (20:10). But, before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

1, reading today’s Gospel reading;

2, a short reflection;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.

An icon of the Pharisee and the Publican … who was good at praying, and who was a model for praying?

Luke 18: 9-14 (NRSVA):

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10 ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13 But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’

Today’s Reflections:

The Jesus Prayer … an image from Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

Κύριε Ἰησοῦ Χριστέ,
Υἱὲ Θεοῦ,
ἐλέησόν με τὸν ἁμαρτωλό

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, the sinner

The Jesus Prayer, in its simplicity and clarity, is rooted in a prayer heard in this morning’s Gospel reading at the Eucharist (Luke 18: 9-14) and three other passages in Saint Luke’s Gospel:

• the cry of the ten lepers who called to him, ‘Jesus, Master, take pity on us’ (Luke 17: 13);
• the cry for mercy of the publican, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner’ (Luke 18: 14);
• the cry of the blind man at the side of the road near Jericho, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me’ (Luke 18: 38);
• the sentiments of the cry of the penitent thief on the cross (Luke 23: 42).

The parable of the Pharisee and the Publican and their prayers is an interesting way to examine our own approaches to prayer. Christ teaches his Disciples a variety of approaches to prayer, giving them examples of prayer with the Lord’s Prayer, and examples of how others pray: the Prodigal Son’s father who prays for his son every day; the persistent widow who keeps on badgering the unjust judge every day; and this morning’s Gospel reading, which presents us with two different approaches to prayer, public and private.

But perhaps we can we can be too quick to say that we are presented with one good example and one bad example.

Both the Pharisee and the Publican prays for himself. Each bares himself before God.

The Pharisee gives thanks to God. In fact, by all the current standards of and means of measuring Jewish piety, he is a good man. Consider what he tells God and us about himself.

First of all, he thanks God that he is not like other people. The Morning Prayer for Orthodox Jewish men, to this day, includes a prayer with these words: ‘Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast not made me a gentile, … a slave, … a woman.’

Thanking God that I am not like others is not an expression of disdain for others; it is merely another, humble way of thanking God for being made the way we are, in God’s image and likeness. The Pharisee’s prayer is not unusual.

The Pharisee then goes on to tell God that he obeys all the commandments: he prays, he fasts and he tithes – in fact, he tithes more than he has to, and perhaps also fasts more often than he has to – and he gives generously to the poor. He more than meets all the requirements laid on him by the Mosaic law, and he goes beyond that. He is a charitable, kind and faithful man.

Anyone who saw him in the Temple and heard him pray would have gone away saying he was a good man, and a spiritual man.

But, despite attending to his responsibilities towards others, the Pharisee in this parable does not pray for the needs of others, in so far as we are allowed to eavesdrop on his prayers.

But then, neither does the publican pray for the needs of others.

So neither man is condemned for not being heard to pray for the needs of the other.

What marks the prayers of the Pharisee out from the prayers of the publican is that, in his prayers, the Pharisee expresses his disdain for the needs of others.

The parable of the Pharisee and the Publican is also a reminder that at times people may think that because they have sinned they should not pray.

But the story of the Pharisee (apparently good) and the Publican (apparently bad), tells us that the Pharisee prayed easily, while the publican could not even lift his eyes to heaven. Instead, the publican smote his breast and prayed: ‘Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.’

Christ tells us it was the publican who ‘returned home justified’ not the Pharisee.

The publican wants to pray even when he feels guilty of sin.

We do not have to wait until we feel righteous, like the Pharisee, so that we can pray. Such prayer is almost useless. I know I can all too easily pray the Jesus Prayer, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me the sinner,’ and pray it all the more readily when I am feeling righteous than when I realise I am a sinner.

The error of the Pharisee is to confuse the means with the end. Acts of virtue or piety are meant to dispose our hearts towards communion with God, not turn us in on ourselves. As Metropolitan Anthony Bloom wrote: ‘From the [Pharisee] learn his works, but by no means his pride; for the work by itself means nothing and does not save.’

Religious feelings can be deceptive in the extreme. When I think I feel like praying, I may in fact be feeling ‘pious,’ and I may not be ready to pray at this stage. Instead, I may be preparing to be self-consumed and self-congratulatory about being a pious person of prayer.

John Betjeman’s most savage satire is ‘In Westminster Abbey.’ This poem is a dramatic monologue, set during the early days of World War II, in which a woman enters Westminster Abbey to pray for a moment before hurrying off to ‘a luncheon date.’ Her thoughts on bombings and war are particularly relevant in the midst of today’s wars and crises.

She is not merely a chauvinistic nationalist, but also a racist, a snob and a hypocrite who is concerned more with how the war will affect her share portfolio than anything else. Her chauvinistic nationalism leads her to pray to God ‘to bomb the Germans’ … but ‘Don’t let anyone bomb me.’

Her social and ethical lapses are a product of her spiritual state, which is a direct result of her nation’s spiritual sickness. But she lets God know prayer and her relationship with God are low down her list of priorities:

Let me take this other glove off
As the vox humana swells,
And the beauteous fields of Eden
Bask beneath the Abbey bells.
Here, where England’s statesmen lie,
Listen to a lady’s cry.

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans,
Spare their women for Thy Sake,
And if that is not too easy
We will pardon Thy Mistake.
But, gracious Lord, whate’er shall be,
Don’t let anyone bomb me.

Keep our Empire undismembered
Guide our Forces by Thy Hand,
Gallant blacks from far Jamaica,
Honduras and Togoland;
Protect them Lord in all their fights,
And, even more, protect the whites.

Think of what our Nation stands for,
Books from Boots’ and country lanes,
Free speech, free passes, class distinction,
Democracy and proper drains.
Lord, put beneath Thy special care
One-eighty-nine Cadogan Square.

Although dear Lord I am a sinner,
I have done no major crime;
Now I’ll come to Evening Service
Whensoever I have the time.
So, Lord, reserve for me a crown,
And do not let my shares go down.

I will labour for Thy Kingdom,
Help our lads to win the war,
Send white feathers to the cowards
Join the Women’s Army Corps,
Then wash the steps around Thy Throne
In the Eternal Safety Zone.

Now I feel a little better,
What a treat to hear Thy Word,
Where the bones of leading statesmen
Have so often been interr’d.
And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait
Because I have a luncheon date.

On the other hand, when I feel like the Publican in our parable, then I can pray like a Publican. Throughout the Church, parishioners protest, ‘I cannot take Communion … lead the intercession … serve at the altar today … because I do not feel worthy.’ But surely I am in much greater danger when I do feel worthy.

When does someone ever say, ‘I have been so good this week I have not felt in the least like a sinner, and this is a great sin and deception?’ Now we would be getting somewhere with prayer!

The 19th century Russian, Saint John of Kronstadt (1829-1902), writes: ‘When the foolish thought of counting up any of your good works enters into your head, immediately correct your fault and rather count up your sins, your continual and innumerable offences against the All-Merciful and Righteous Master, and you will find that their number is as the sand of the sea, whilst your virtues in comparison with them are as nothing.’

What ever happened to the publican or the tax-collector afterwards?

We are not told his name. We are not told where he lived. We are not told how he lived.

Did he ever put into practice what he was praying for? Asking for mercy, receiving mercy, giving mercy?

In moments when I allow my imagination to run away with itself, and with me, I like to ask whether this is the same tax collector as Zacchaeus who appeared in the Gospel reading late last year (Luke 19: 1-10, the Fourth Sunday before Advent, 2 November 2025).

The Pharisee this morning lists all he does: he fasts twice a week; he gives a tenth of all his income (verse 12). Zacchaeus has a profound change of heart, and decides to give away half of his possessions to the poor and to repay four-fold what he has squeezed out of anyone unjustly (Luke 19: 8).

Prayer leads us to God, but prayer that does not lead us to love our neighbour is prayer that is dead.

We need to be people who pray like a publican. We will find so many more times available for prayer if we do. But we should pray for those who are praying like a Pharisee too, so that God may free us from our delusions.

‘In Westminster Abbey’ by John Betjeman’s is a dramatic monologue that retells one part of the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Saturday 14 March 2026):

The theme this week (8-14 March 2026) in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), has been ‘Biblical Sisterhood’ (pp 36-37). This theme was introduced last Sunday with reflections by Dr Sanjana Das, PhD feminist theologian, advocate for the dignity and rights of trafficked and migrant working women.

The USPG Prayer Diary today (Saturday 14 March 2026) invites us to pray:

Merciful God, we pray for traffickers and all who exploit others. Reveal their wrongdoing, open their hearts to repentance, and guide them toward justice, so that lives may be freed from abuse and dignity restored.

The Collect:

Almighty God,
whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain,
and entered not into glory before he was crucified:
mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross,
may find it none other than the way of life and peace;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post Communion Prayer:

Merciful Lord,
grant your people grace to withstand the temptations
of the world, the flesh and the devil,
and with pure hearts and minds to follow you, the only God;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Eternal God,
give us insight
to discern your will for us,
to give up what harms us,
and to seek the perfection we are promised
in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Collect on the Eve of Lent IV:

Merciful Lord,
absolve your people from their offences,
that through your bountiful goodness
we may all be delivered from the chains of those sins
which by our frailty we have committed;
grant this, heavenly Father,
for Jesus Christ’s sake, our blessed Lord and Saviour,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

The Pharisee and the Publican … who would you prefer to have coffee with this morning? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

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