COMERFORD WAY: Patrick Comerford’s online journal on Anglicanism, theology, spirituality, history, architecture, travel, poetry, beach walks ... and more
The ‘vaulted roof so white and light and strong’ (John Betjeman) … in the chapel of King’s College, Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)
Patrick Comerford
Today is the Eighth Sunday after Trinity [26 March 2026], and after my visit to Cambridge last week, including the chapel of King’s College, I have been reading once again this Sunday of John Betjeman’s poem ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge’.
Many years ago, in a book review in the Times Higher Education Supplement, Timothy Mowl of the University of Bristol described ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge’ as one of the ‘least important’ of Betjeman’s poems ‘because it is about a place, not people in a place.’
But Betjeman is at his best when he fuses together in one poem his different passions, and in ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge’ he presents a happy marriage of architectural detail, finely observed, and the sense of the worship of the eternal captured in a moment.
In ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge,’ Betjeman captures a sense of wonder in the celebration of Anglican worship as he presents the beauty and splendour of Anglican worship, ablaze with colour.
Taken together, ‘In Westminster Abbey’ and ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge’ give us a poet who has a deep Christian faith and who holds out hope for the Church of England and Anglicanism. One represents a place of public worship that closely links the Church with the political power in the nation; the other represents the very beauty of Anglican worship in a place associated not only with academic life, but also with the architectural and musical excellence of the nation.
‘In Westminster Abbey’ is one of Betjeman’s most savage satires. It 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.’ She is not merely a chauvinist 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 speaker 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 a nation’s spiritual sickness.
On the other hand, in ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge,’ the moment of worship exists out of time as the living and the dead, the choir and the poet, join in the eternal praise of God. In this poem, Betjeman captures a joyful and spontaneous reaction, albeit an emotionally restrained expression, and a sense of wonder in the celebration of Anglican worship.
Stanza 1 describes the procession of the choir of the Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, and the spiritually overwhelming aesthetics of the chapel – the stalls, the stained glass, and especially the stunning fan-vaulted ceiling, ‘a shower that never falls.’
Stanza 2 sees the poet’s mind wander away from the service as he imagines being outside among the ‘windy Cambridge courts.’ Again there is a great emphasis on the vast variety of colour, but all the colours are transformed into ‘waves of pearly light’ reflected off the Cambridge stone. The image suggests that the divine is not to be found exclusively in the chapel but in the world, the space that contains both God’s works and humanity’s work.
Stanza 3 is a geographical and historical expansion of these images and ideas. Here, the white of the ‘windy Cambridge courts’ contrasts with the ‘vaulted roof so white and light and strong.’
Betjeman imagines the tombs that fill churches throughout East Anglia, with the effigies of the deceased captured for eternity in postures of prayer:
… the clasped hands lying long
Recumbent on sepulchral slabs or effigied in brass.
The prayers of these dead are a ‘buttress’ for the vaulted ceiling of the chapel at King’s, which, built near the end of the Gothic period, needs no architectural buttresses. Christianity exists not because of aesthetics but because of prayer, and the sanctuary is supported, not because of the marvels of 15th century engineering, but by a tradition of faith. In ‘Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge,’ the moment of worship exists out of time as the living and the dead, the choir and the poet, join in the eternal praise of God.
The poem has no irony, except perhaps in the last line:
To praise Eternity contained in Time and coloured glass.
Here Betjeman illustrates the futility of our human desire to share in God’s timelessness. All of us are being confounded by our foolish need to control God and time.
It was a thought to ponder this Eighth Sunday in Lent as I read in the Gospel reading this morning of the small and easily dismissed seeds that grow into God’s kingdom: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.’ (Matthew 13: 31-32).
The Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, and the wild flowers in the meadow at Back Lawn (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)
Sunday Morning, King’s Cambridge, by John Betjeman
File into yellow candle light, fair choristers of King’s
Lost in the shadowy silence of canopied Renaissance stalls
In blazing glass above the dark glow skies and thrones and wings
Blue, ruby, gold and green between the whiteness of the walls
And with what rich precision the stonework soars and springs
To fountain out a spreading vault – a shower that never falls.
The white of windy Cambridge courts, the cobbles brown and dry,
The gold of plaster Gothic with ivy overgrown,
The apple-red, the silver fronts, the wide green flats and high,
The yellowing elm-trees circled out on islands of their own –
Oh, here behold all colours change that catch the flying sky
To waves of pearly light that heave along the shafted stone.
In far East Anglian churches, the clasped hands lying long
Recumbent on sepulchral slabs or effigied in brass
Buttress with prayer this vaulted roof so white and light and strong
And countless congregations as the generations pass
Join choir and great crowned organ case, in centuries of song
To praise Eternity contained in Time and coloured glass.
’To praise Eternity contained in Time and coloured glass’ (John Betjeman) … stained glass in the chapel in King’s College, Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford 2026)
Sunset behind the Fortezza in Rethymnon in Crete, seen from Pavlos Beach in Platanias … ‘a little snatch of heaven’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church and today is the Eighth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity VIII, 26 July 2026). Later this morning, I hope to sing with the choir at the Parish Eucharist in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stratford.
Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:
1, today’s Gospel reading;
2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;
4, the Collects and Post-Communion Prayer of the Day.
A glimpse of Vicars Close, Lichfield, from Erasmus Darwin’s Garden, near Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)
Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52 (NRSVA):
31 He put before them another parable: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; 32 it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.’
33 He told them another parable: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.
44 ‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
45 ‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; 46 on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
47 ‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; 48 when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. 49 So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous 50 and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
51 ‘Have you understood all this?’ They answered, ‘Yes.’ 52 And he said to them, ‘Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.’
Sunrise on the River Slaney at Ferrycarrig, Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Reflections
Have you ever found yourself lost for words when it comes to describing a beautiful place you have visited?
If you have ever been to the Bay of Naples or Sorrento, how would you describe what you have seen to someone who has never travelled outside a 30 km radius from Dublin?
You might try comparing the first glimpse of Vesuvius with looking at the Great Sugarloaf … but that hardly describes the experience of climbing the rocky path, looking into the caldera, or the experience of the sulphuric smell.
You might want to compare the Bay of Naples with the vista in Dalkey or Killiney … but that hardly catches the majestic scope of the view.
You might want to compare the church domes with the great copper dome in Rathmines … but that goes nowhere near describing the intricate artwork on those Italian domes.
You might compare the inside of the duomo in Amalfi with the inside of your favourite parish church … but you know you are getting nowhere near what you want to say.
And as for Capri … you are hardly going to write a romantic song about Dalkey Island, Ireland’s Eye or Lambay, Mersea Island or the Isle of Dogs.
Comparisons never match the beauty of any place that offers us a snatch or glimpse of heaven.
And yet, we know that the photographs on our phones, no matter how good they seem to be when we are taking them, never do justice to the places we have been when we get home.
We risk becoming bores either by trying to use inadequate words or inadequate images to describe experiences that we can never truly share with people unless they go there, unless they have been there too.
I suppose that helps to a degree to understand why Jesus keeps on trying to grasp at images that might help the Disciples and help us to understand what the Kingdom of God is like.
He tries to offer us a taste of the kingdom with a number of parables in this morning’s Gospel reading:
• The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed … (verse 31).
• The kingdom of heaven is like yeast … (verse 33).
• The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field … (verse 44).
• The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls … (verse 45).
• The kingdom of heaven is like a net in the sea … (verse 47).
‘Do they understand?’ They answer, ‘Yes.’ But how can they really understand, fully understand?
Once after a late lunch in Mount Usher, I posted some photographs of the gardens. An American reader I have never met commented: ‘A little piece of heaven.’
We have a romantic imagination that confuses gardens with Paradise, and Paradise with the Kingdom of Heaven. But perhaps that is a good starting point, because I have a number of places where I find myself saying constantly: ‘This is a little snatch of heaven.’ They include:
• The road from Cappoquin out to my grandmother’s farm in West Waterford.
• The train journey from outside Ferns to Wexford, along the banks of the River Slaney.
• The view from the east end of Stowe Pool across to Lichfield Cathedral at sunset on a Spring evening, or walking around Vicars Close in Lichfield.
• The Backs in Cambridge, which is visited once again last week.
• The fields in Comberford and the banks of the River Tame.
• Sunset at the Fortezza in Rethymnon on the Greek island of Crete.
• The sights and sounds on some of the shores and beaches I once walked on regularly … Bettystown, Skerries, Loughshinny, Portrane, Donabate, Bray, Wexford, Achill, Rethymnon, Platanias, Panormos …
The Kingdom of Heaven must be so like so many of these places where I find myself constantly praising God and thanking God for creation.
But … but it’s not just that. And I start thinking that Christ does more than just paint a scene when he describes the kingdom of heaven. Looking at the Gospel reading again, I realise he is doing more than offering holiday snapshots or painting the scenery.
He tries to describe the Kingdom of Heaven in terms of doing, and not just in terms of being:
• Sowing a seed (verse 31);
• Giving a nest to the birds of the air (verse 32);
• Mixing yeast (verse 33);
• Turning small amounts of flour into generous portions of bread (verse 34);
• Finding hidden treasure (verse 44);
• Rushing out in joy (verse 44);
• Selling all that I have because something I have found is worth more – much, much more, again and again (verse 44, 46);
• Searching for pearls (verse 45);
• Finding just one pearl (verse 46);
• Casting a net into the sea (verse 47);
• Catching an abundance of fish (verse 47);
• Drawing the abundance of fish ashore, and realising there is too much there for personal needs (verse 48);
• Writing about it so that others can enjoy the benefit and rewards of treasures new and old (verse 52).
So there are, perhaps, four or five times as many active images of the kingdom than there are passive images.
The kingdom is more about doing than being.
The projects and work supported by USPG at home and around the world is not supported because it hopes to transform those places with a few, selected quick-fix solutions, but because these projects are sacramental signs of the Kingdom.
Christ’s life on earth is marked by teaching, healing, caring for children and the marginalised, feeding the hungry, proclaiming the Kingdom.
In supporting projects in this work, USPG is offering signs of the ministry of Christ as he invites us to the banquet, as he invites us into the Kingdom – works that are little glimpses of what the Kingdom of Heaven is like.
Some time ago, a viral project on social media challenged people over five days to list three positive experiences they have had each day. Today, I challenge you to think of three places, three gifts in God’s creation, that offer you glimpses of the Kingdom of Heaven, and to think of three actions that for you symbolise Christ’s invitation into the Kingdom of Heaven.
Give thanks for these pearls beyond price, and share them with someone you love and cherish.
Punters on the River Cam behind King’s College, Cambridge, last week (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)
Today’s Prayers (Sunday 26 July 2026, Trinity VIII):
In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week, from 26 July to 1 August 2026 (pp 22-23), is ‘Lives in Transit’. This theme is introduced today with a programme update by Rachel Weller, Communications Officer, USPG:
At a global summit on human trafficking and modern slavery, hosted by United Society Partners in the Gospel and the Diocese of Durgapur, two speakers illuminated the realities facing migrant workers in the Middle East: Saba, working in Lebanon and based in Jordan, and Pauline from Dubai.
In Lebanon, Saba Kerry describes the Kafala (sponsorship) system, where a worker’s legal status is tied to an employer. This can prevent workers from changing jobs, leaving the country freely, or holding their own passports, leaving them exposed and often without effective legal protection. As one migrant worker from Benin, quoted by Saba, explains: ‘In other countries, the one who has tricked you is usually the one who would be arrested, and your money would be reimbursed. But here, I’m the illegal one.’
In the city of sprawling skyscrapers, Dubai’s migrant workers face similar challenges. Many are separated from their families, carry recruitment debt, and depend on employers for legal residency.
Yet, amid these pressures, the Church often becomes a place of refuge and belonging.
At Holy Trinity Church, Dubai, and Saint Mary’s Catholic Church, Dubai, migrant communities gather for worship in many languages. These churches offer pastoral care and practical support for women in partners in global mission 22 crisis, including emergency assistance, shelter support, and help to return home safely where possible.
Across both contexts, the Church is called not only to respond to individual hardship, but also to recognise the systems that shape it. For the migrant domestic worker who longs to go home, caught within an unjust system, we now pray.
The USPG prayer diary today (Sunday 26 July 2026, Trinity VIII) invites us to pray as we read and meditate on today’s Gospel reading, Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52.
Walking on the beach at Bako National Park, near Kuching in Sarawak (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The Collect of the Day:
Almighty Lord and everlasting God,
we beseech you to direct, sanctify and govern
both our hearts and bodies
in the ways of your laws
and the works of your commandments;
that through your most mighty protection, both here and ever,
we may be preserved in body and soul;
through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post Communion Prayer:
Strengthen for service, Lord,
the hands that have taken holy things;
may the ears which have heard your word
be deaf to clamour and dispute;
may the tongues which have sung your praise be free from deceit;
may the eyes which have seen the tokens of your love
shine with the light of hope;
and may the bodies which have been fed with your body
be refreshed with the fullness of your life;
glory to you for ever.
Additional Collect:
Lord God,
your Son left the riches of heaven
and became poor for our sake:
when we prosper save us from pride,
when we are needy save us from despair,
that we may trust in you alone;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
