Taking Some Time Out To Shout Ouch: Life Hurts

Many people think that for us “spiritual types” all goes swimmingly well and even if it doesn’t, we somehow have all the answers to life’s little problems and/or spiritual challenges. Ha ha, if only that were so. You see the more we “know” the less ”we know” except we just become more aware of the fact of the gaping amounts we know we don’t know. The hill becomes steeper, the doorway narrower, and we get more and more out of puff  with all the damned effort. The light of the end of the tunnel looks far more like an oncoming freight train and our sense of humour is sometimes the only thing that keeps us going; along with the fact that we know when we are less than adequate in the prayer stakes, there is one within us that does it for us until we are able to pick up again. Thank goodness for that.

At the moment, this is the best way to describe the week/s I am having…

My kind of week

 

However…rest assured I have it under control and have decided my temporary safest course of action…

Safest place to be

But fear not [I assure myself if history is anything to go by], I shall soon be here again…

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And for those who know the comedy Black Adder…it was big here in UK: if all else fails…

I have a cunning plan…and it involves a turnip. Until then, perhaps I will just stay in photo number 2 mode.

Baldric and turnip

The Matter of Food and Fasting: Rules…Are Made to Be Broken [Or Sidestepped Anyway!]

Welcome to my reader from Bahrain, visiting two days ago.

Fish Pond

I would just like to deal with food here and how the rules about fasting were ‘manipulated’ and carefully ‘interpreted’ so that the monks of old stuck by letter if not quite the rule of their Church law. It is for me a wonderful affirmation of human nature, that no matter what rules are laid down, there will be those who see them as a challenge to work around. This unpredictable inventive imagination of humankind is what gets it through its scrapes and challenges and ensures our very survival; it is an essential quality of survival. It is the same impetus in war prisoners who thought up and then carried out the tunnel escapes, the ingenuity of men who created the conception of how to get to the moon, and the driving force of someone I knew of who was the only prisoner to escape from Colditz  5 times. Even his German prison guards admired his ingenuity in the end!  But generally this uncontrollable inner drive of mankind  annoys and frustrates those in power at any given time who think they have covered every conceivable angle in their dictates, only to find them being flouted at almost every turn in practise!

Food is the very fuel that drives our engines that we call bodies. It is essential to our survival. Too much or too little of it kills us. But it is also a social activity and one that has all kinds of associations with it for us, bonding, caring, nurturing, family, comfort, love. It is a complex need of our lives, tied in with all sorts of emotional triggers. This is why during war, so much is done to ensure that people have the emotional satisfaction of food as well as its physical quantity and looking in wartime cookbooks one can see the ingenious substitutes that enabled people psychologically to feel they were not suffering too much. ‘Spirits’ need to be fed as well as bodies!

In the days before supermarkets though, there were natural times of the year for lean food supplies and these do tie in with religious fasting times. In the religious sense these fasting periods were proscribed, but even the ordinary folk would have been limited at these times. Fasting is a healthy activity when conducted properly, and has always been considered an aid to spiritual development as well by most religions. The big Christmas food feast which we still generally enjoy today goes back to times when a period of lack was about to ensue, so it was almost the final big feast up, ‘eat as much as you can before you have to go without.’

In medieval times, only two meals were eaten in a day. The Church forbid eating animals on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays and throughout Lent and Advent. This equates to half a year. In Lent eggs are also forbidden. According to the rule of St Benedict, monks were not supposed to eat the meat of four-legged animals at all. However men living at that time felt that… St Benedict lived ‘a long time ago’ and over the next 800 years since his passing, monks across Christendom found ways of circumventing his rule. The Rule states that they should not eat meat in the refectory. Consequently many monasteries built a second dining room, called the misericord [place of mercy], where meat-eating can take place! Also, although eating the flesh of four-legged animals is forbidden [in the refectory], there is nothing in the Rule specifically against eating offal.

Realising that this is not wholly within the spirit of the Rule, and realising he cannot stand in the way of ‘progress’, Benedict X11 [Pope between 1334-42], suggests a compromise. As long as half the monks eat in the refectory, the remainder can bolt to the misericord and gorge on whatever meat they choose, providing it is not a Wednesday, Friday or Saturday or a day in Advent or Lent. Those who remain in the refectory must not eat the meat of quadrupeds but can eat fowl and other meaty ingredients, such as offal. On non meat days everyone must eat together in the refectory and observe non meat rules. The Benedictine monks at Westminster even managed to justify and wangle bacon. Pope Benedict’s ‘compromise’ means that a monk may only eat in the misericord for a maximum of 86 days per year and so monks are rather keen for their turn to come round. First course is nearly always beef, the second course normally consists of more beef plus three further roasted meats, veal, mutton, pork or goose. Lamb is eaten in late spring, boiled pork in the winter and at other times of the year mutton is served. At supper, only one meat dish is served.

Fish is big in the monks diet. Everyday the refectory serves fried, poached or baked fish served at dinner. For supper only shellfish such as cockles or whelks are served. Some of the largest fish ponds are owned by monasteries, Gracious Pond in Surrey, was constructed by the abbot of Chertsey in 1308 and extends to over 35 acres, whilst the ponds at Frensham [Surrey] extend to over a hundred acres. Where once the monks fished at Frensham, now people access these ponds for leisure fishing, perhaps unaware of their history.

Frensham Fishponds

Benedict XII was a reforming pope who did not carry out the policies of his predecessor. He chose to make peace with Holy Roman Emperor Louis IV and as far as possible came to terms with the Franciscans, who were then at odds with the Roman See. He tried to curb the luxuries of the monastic orders, though without much success. He also ordered the construction of the Palais des Papes in Avignon. He spent most of his time working on questions of theology. He rejected many of the ideas developed by John XXII. In this regard, he promulgated an apostolic constitution, Benedictus Deus, in 1336. This dogma defined the Church’s belief that the souls of the departed go to their eternal reward immediately after death, as opposed to remaining in a state of unconscious existence until the Last Judgment. Though some claim that he campaigned against the Immaculate Conception, this is far from clear. He engaged in long theological debates with other noted figures of the age, such as William of Ockham and Meister Eckhart.

Benedict X11

This is the last of my posts on this site about Pilgrimage. I have set up another blog which, if you are interested in you can find a link  on the side of this site, entitled Pilgrimage and Its History.  I want to concentrate heavily in that new blog on all sorts of Pilgrimage and sacred sites, focusing especially on my specialised knowledge in Medieval and Tudor History. It will cover sacred sites, lots of photographs, as well as history about anchoresses, hermits, priories, and cathedrals, and I think the new platform will enable me to go far deeper into that than this site can allow me to do. Living In The Monastery Without Walls will continue to be dedicated to mysticism. Hope to see some of you over on the new site if you fancy a walk in the past, that led to where we are today…

La Sagrada Familia: Barcelona

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”
Ansel Adams

Thanks to my eldest daughter Deborah, I have some recent beautiful photographs of La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain [still under construction] that I would like to share with you. She recently visited and was overawed with it. In such beauty filled space we glimpse the sacred and soar towards it like birds on the wings of love. I last visited it in 1965. It has moved on a pace since then!

The Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família :English: Basilica and Expiatory Church of the Holy Family; is a large Roman Catholic church in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain, designed by Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí (1852–1926). Although incomplete, the church is a UNESCO World Heritage Site,and in November 2010 was consecrated and proclaimed a minor basilica by Pope Benedict XVI.Though construction of Sagrada Família had commenced in 1882, Gaudí became involved in 1883,taking over the project and transforming it with his architectural and engineering style—combining Gothic and curvilinear Art Nouveau forms. Gaudí devoted his last years to the project, and at the time of his death at age 73 in 1926, less than a quarter of the project was complete.  Construction progressed slowly, as it relied on private donations and was interrupted by the Spanish Civil War, only to resume intermittent progress in the 1950s. Construction passed the midpoint in 2010 with some of the project’s greatest challenges remainingand an anticipated completion date of 2026 the centennial of Gaudí’s death. The basílica has a long history of dividing the citizens of Barcelona, over the initial possibility it might compete with Barcelona’s cathedral, over Gaudí’s design itself, and over the possibility that work after Gaudí’s death disregarded his design. Describing Sagrada Família, art critic Rainer Zerbst said “it is probably impossible to find a church building anything like it in the entire history of art”and Paul Goldberger called it “the most extraordinary personal interpretation of Gothic architecture since the Middle Ages.” [Wikipedia].

For me, it is difficult not to agree with this last statement!

La Sagrada Familia Barcelona

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La Sagrada Familia Interior

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And surrounding Architecture:

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All Photos except Number 1 and 3 (C) Deborah M 2013

Pilgrimage: Walsingham Anglican Shrine Gardens

After a wonderful meal at the Norfolk Riddle, and the best crème Brule I have ever eaten the previous evening and a long sleep, this final morning I want to see if I can catch up with my fellow pilgrims and see how they are getting on, especially the priest leading one of the groups I met on the first evening. We keep bumping into each other everywhere I go, and they are following very different timetables to me so it is getting a bit strange! I make for the Pilgrim Refectory, a spacious airy building with a lovely café, here I am assured of a steaming hot coffee and wonderful cake! Sure enough many of the pilgrims I met are gathered together and wave me over to join them, big smiles on their faces. The group gradually drifts away except for two ladies and their priest. For two hours some serious discussions take place and my work, my past, my hopes and my fears are laid out bare for examination. One of the major heart breaks of being mystical is that you never quite ‘belong’ communally in the way that most church members have the security of. There is always the ‘lone wolf’ syndrome, a desperate longing and wanting to join in but too much a  ’wild card’ for the church priests to quite know what to do with you. The higher ranks of Church, regardless of denomination, or within monastic communities [who also consider themselves on the edge and fringes!] you have contact with, the problem fades to nothing, and acceptance and understanding is there, but not in the daily, local, nitty-gritty where most of us want to blend in and share. So it can be very very lonely. The story of that encounter is detailed more in a post I wrote after returning, to be found in May archive. This encounter gave me a great gift, and it is the gift that Our Lady of Walsingham bestowed on me. It gave me the courage to write this blog, and since then, this year I have published two books as well. I was gifted  the courage and grace to speak. This priest accepted my request to become my spiritual director, he understood and knew the Cosmic Christ.

Without commenting any further, here are the final photos of the gardens within the centre, they speak for themselves.

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Altar of the Mystery of Light

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Pilgrimage: Lament for Walsingham: The Destruction

The destruction of the Priory and Shrine at Walsingham was repeated throughout the land. 800 monasteries, priories and abbeys were present before the destruction,  very few survived. Monasteries and shrines were torn down, burnt, the relics and works of art and any valuables carefully looted by the cartloads and transported to Henry V111′s treasure stores-well most of them anyway. Some were removed in advance and hidden, a very dangerous act, punishable by instant death if discovered…and I have no doubt people being what people are, a few got ‘relocated’ along the way by opportunists.

It is difficult for the modern mind to comprehend what this national attack did to the average English psyche. There was little joy in most people’s lives, life was routine, often dreary and filled with constant work and rules. The promise of a better life to come was a deep source of comfort, even the notion of freedom was unattainable in this life for most; but in heaven…they would be treated with justice, equality and freedom. Just as many hang on today to the hope that the future will be better, so they did then. In those dark years in England, all hope was extinguished. Every church was raided, every statue destroyed or taken away, vast monastic buildings were torn down to rubble, glass smashed and scattered, the monks either killed, burnt or sent fleeing out into the countryside and life as the ordinary people knew it changed forever. In some cases, the local people were forced into taking part in the destruction themselves…to show they were ‘in agreement with the King’…on pain of death if they did not.

The monasteries had become rich and some of them had become corrupted. Certainly not all was perfect, anymore than any system is nowadays. But, they also played a pivotal role within communities, providing work for local people, buying provisions and goods from local traders. They also provided the only type of medicinal care that was available and education. They would feed the poor who would otherwise have starved, and they fed them spiritually, lighting their hope. Their buildings provided the only beauty that many common folk would see, and confirmation of salvation in the world hereafter. The priests and monks cared for the parishioners bodies and souls.

Although the visible signs of religious life were being torn apart, faith and memory resided safe within for some, and this ballad shows that for all the fear induced, not all faith could be extinguished. Entitled ‘A Lament for Our Lady’s Shrine at Walsingham’ it was written in about 1600 and is by an anonymous writer.

Unusually, for a ballad, it begins with the classical gesture of evoking the Muse, in this case, of course, the Virgin Mary herself. The next quatrain calls on an unexpected addressee. The “Prince of Walsingham” is presumably the King. The mock humility (“grant me to frame …”) quickly gives way to the anger and grief of “bitter plaints

A Lament for Our Lady’s Shrine at Walsingham

 In the wracks of Walsingham

Whom should I choose

But the Queen of Walsingham

to be my guide and muse.

x

Then, thou Prince of Walsingham,

Grant me to frame

Bitter plaints to rue thy wrong,

Bitter woe for thy name.

x

Bitter was it so to see

The seely sheep

Murdered by the ravenous wolves

While the shepherds did sleep.

x

Bitter was it,

O to view The sacred vine,

Whilst the gardeners played all close,

Rooted up by the swine.

x

Bitter, bitter, O to behold

The grass to grow

Where the walls of Walsingham

So stately did show.

x

Such were the worth of Walsingham

While she did stand,

Such are the wracks as now

do show Of that Holy Land.

x

Level, level, with the ground

The towers do lie,

Which, with their golden glittering tops,

Pierced once to the sky.

x

Where were gates are no gates now,

The ways unknown

Where the press of peers did pass

While her fame was blown.

x

Owls do scrike where the sweetest hymns

Lately were sung,

Toads and serpents hold their dens

Where the palmers did throng.

x

Weep, weep, O Walsingham,

Whose days are nights,

Blessings turned to blasphemies,

 Holy deeds to despites.

x

Sin is where Our Lady sat,

Heaven is turned to hell,

Satan sits where Our Lord did sway

— Walsingham, O farewell!

This last verse expresses the torment that people felt as religious wars increasingly alienated people and communities from each other, “Heaven is turned to hell, Satan sits where Our Lord did sway”, and also their fear of death now that their King was himself excommunicated, thus possibly his people with him, as he was their ‘ earthly father’ and the sins of the fathers was known to pass down the generations… The poet describes “blessings turned to blasphemies, holy deeds to despites.”

In 1534 Walsingham Priory was one of the first monastic establishments to agree to accept Henry V111′s supremacy over the Church of England in place of the Pope. The Prior and the Canons hoped that might secure the Priory’s survival. In 1538 the statue of our Lady of Walsingham was taken to London and burned, and in August the Priory and all its possessions were finally signed over to the King. The Holy House was burned, the Priory site sold and the buildings demolished, the lead, wood and stone sold to builders. It is thought to have been sold for £90. The face of English Christian faith was to change beyond recognition.

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