Hidden in Plain Sight at Manchester Cathedral

Easter Sunday at Manchester Cathedral

For Easter Sunday yesterday, I attended the sung Eucharist at Manchester Cathedral, presided over by the Dean, with the Bishop of Manchester as preacher. According to the service pamphlet, the Bishop now holds the additional title of Professor.

After the service, whilst the organist played out the proceedings, I spoke with some visitors to the church: a man and his daughter from South Carolina. Later, I met another visitor, of whom I made no intrusive enquiry, but shared a few nuggets about the cathedral's history and peculiarities.

Hidden Histories in Plain Sight

As I queued for a cup of tea, I looked up and noticed a plaque I had never seen before. This is one of the remarkable features of this religious building, which has been situated, renovated, and rebuilt over the span of a millennium: it has become a reliquary of history, people, and events too numerous to see or notice, even if you have attended the cathedral for over a decade.

Moreover, I do not recall my attention ever being drawn to the two things I saw yesterday. These included a colourful set of paintings depicting the Beatitudes, which, in my fascination at the discovery (shared with other long-term congregants who were equally oblivious to them), I forgot to photograph. Perhaps the experience alone is more worthwhile than the need to capture it on imperfect devices.

The Samuel Ogden Connection

The plaque commemorated a name that labels a street close to my accommodation: Samuel Ogden. It has caused intrigue, though not enough curiosity, much like Sir Joseph Whitworth, the 19th-century engineer, entrepreneur, inventor, and philanthropist. 

Whitworth lends his name to a major street from which Samuel Ogden Street branches, as well as to a gallery, a hall, and a park, all in Manchester. He also gave his name to a British Standard for screw threads and left a huge bequest to the Christie Hospital.

The plaque commemorates father and son, written in Latin inscription. With no classics scholar friend about to translate it for our understanding, I took a picture and asked AI to transcribe and translate.

Samuel Ogden was a Cambridge-educated priest who held the chair in geography at the university, even though he was not qualified in the discipline. The plaque suggests he was not equal in merit to his father; yet the documented history of the son suggests a man of great achievement and considerable fortune at his demise.

The plaque is primarily about Thomas Ogden, the father, who, according to his son's Wikipedia entry, was a dyer. I can find no other biographical information about Thomas apart from what appears on the plaque itself. It should be read in the context of 18th-century funerary plaques.

The Ogden plaque - Manchester Cathedral

The Latin transcription

M · S ·

THOMÆ OGDEN

Mancuniensis,
Indole generosâ,
Moribus suavissimis,
Sermonis comitate, lepore, modestia,
cæterisque humanioribus virtutibus adornati:
eminente inter alias Pietate;
primum erga Parentes,
quos ætate confectos,
e pluribus natis minimus,
ad se recepit, observavit, extulit:
deinde erga Filium unicum,
SAMUELEM OGDEN,
quem tractavit educavitque liberalissimè:
qui vicissim illi,
non meritis parem,
lubenti certè animo,
gratiam referebat.

Ob: Anno { Dom: 1766.
Ætat: 75.

The English translation

Sacred to the memory of
Thomas Ogden,
a native of Manchester,

Of noble character,
most gentle in manners,
adorned with courtesy in speech, wit, modesty,
and the other refined virtues;
distinguished above all for his devotion:

First toward his parents,
whom, worn out by age,
though himself the youngest of many children,
he received into his care, attended, and supported;

Then toward his only son,
Samuel Ogden,
whom he treated and educated most generously;

And he in return,
though not equal to his father in merit,
yet with willing heart
gratefully repaid him.

He died in the Year of our Lord 1766,
aged 75.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

A Traditional Mothering Sunday

And off to church, I go

Being on the steward’s rota today, I left for church early having checked if the weather, though cold, would also be affected by rain. The prognosticators and readers of the tea leaves had surmised that the times to expect rain would coincide with when I was fully sheltered at church, however, it being Manchester, you should always be prepared.

As I walked to church, I took the opportunity to conduct a video conversation with Brian and we pleasantly bantered until I was about to step through the south door main entrance to the cathedral.

It being Mothering Sunday and I have much of an affinity to the traditional than the emerging trend of Mother’s Day, it was one or the other part, I needed to fulfil. Essentially, Mothering Sunday is the Sunday you go to worship in the church wherein you were baptised, failing which you make a beeline to attend the cathedral or mother church of the diocese.

The baptisms of note

Now, I was first baptised the Anglican way with the sprinkling of water at a baptismal font just 3 weeks short of 49 years ago at St. Luke’s (Anglican) Church in Jos. Suffice it to say, that is a long way from here and quite a distant past in my memory, I was just over 8 years old and it was an activity initiated by my parents than one I understood the significance of. Apart from the certificate of baptism preserved and intact from that long ago, I recall nothing more.

12 years later, there was a river, and I was among charismatic Christians. Then I had a better understanding of what the purpose of a baptism was apart from being fully persuaded of the significance of it. I was fully immersed in water as I pinched my nose, then pulled up out of the water in a symbolic demonstration of Romans 6:4 “Therefore we are buried with Him by baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.”

Whilst the new birth is instantaneous in terms of whoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved Romans 10:13, the realisation of walking in the newness of life is a process of learning, failing, relearning, appreciating human frailty and the preponderance of grace, along with jettisoning the bondage to the law through moving from works to receiving and accepting the free gift of life-affirming grace. It has been harder for me than the words seem to state, the mercifulness and lovingkindness of God assures me, it is possible.

In the second instance of my baptism without contemning the purpose of the first, we had a gathering of believers without a building in the traditional sense of a church as we are in school. Unlike in the Anglican Communion or the Established Church, Mothering Sunday in terms of revisiting a church where one was baptised is impossible. It was contemporaneously attached to time, manner, and place, the rest is recalled from memory.

On duty and then discussion

Welcoming worshippers into the cathedral, I handed out the service pamphlets before taking my seat at the start of the processional hymn and then at the offertory hymn, I took up my assigned aisle to take the collection. Later, I ushered the congregants to receive the communion and my duties were completed after I helped an old lady who had some issues with tickets, she thought she had purchased, but could not find evidence of the transaction being completed.

The weekly Lenten talks started soon after the social gathering to have tea and coffee with biscuits. The gathering allows us to meet people we know and new attendees with all the general conversation that ensues.

We are using the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Lent Book 2024, titled Tarry Awhile by Dr Selina Stone which comes in book, Kindle (electronic book), and Audible (audio book) format. It is a study of black spirituality that inspires quite engaging conversation and discussion in the Lenten talks group.

I have read and listened to some challenging and insightful bits of perspective and theological discourse that I cannot adequately cover in this blog. If you can get the book, you will be mightily blessed by what you learn in the process.

The Village Church

Getting home, I did not have more than 90 minutes to spare before heading out for the bimonthly Village Church around the corner from mine that takes place on the second and fourth Sunday of the month. Even though I felt like I should get on my bed and snuggle under my duvet, this community service that attends to the spiritual needs of the LGBTQ++ cohort under the auspices of the Church of England and supported by our bishops is a wonderfully enriching experience with an intimate feel that allows me the participation in the Holy Communion, twice on Sunday.

If anything, it is better recognised by the church that has in the past persecuted and castigated minority groups that Jesus Christ died for all and the purpose of the church is to give everyone access and facility to exercise their Christianity and spirituality without condemnation or judgement, and in particular, those that had before been hurt by traditions, denominations, churches, or the modern-day equivalent of the Pharisaic class. 

Stewarding at the Pride Eucharist

The Rainbow flag flying on the flagstaff of the Manchester Cathedral.

In the beauty of service

I am humbled by how the call to serve has brought me into proximity and recognition of the powerful. It is a distinctive antithesis of human nature where many have a quest for power rather than the desire to serve.

Whilst one cannot say this is something I would have gravitated to in the natural cause of things, I do remember that when I eventually found a church to associate with in Amsterdam, I found that getting involved in the basics of helping to set up and dismantle the settings for services and worship was something to do because it was needful.

In the process, I got involved during the infancy of the church in finding a new venue, providing storage space, hosting but not leading a prayer group, and was in the ushers and serving team. I however declined positions of leadership that were offered as I was in much conflict about what that entailed.

To welcome and to steward

As a welcomer and a steward at the Manchester Cathedral, positions I assumed after the long courting and persuasion of others who deemed my attendance as one that suggested enough affinity and the readiness to be involved, even more so when the dean through his wife expressed that I had to be involved because there is no reason not to be, I relented.

At the Annual General Meeting of the cathedral, I was voted on as a steward and soon after in my activities with the Volition programme became a welcomer of visitors to the cathedral.

However, yesterday, in attending the Eucharist for Pride which enjoins to bring the LGBTQI+ community into communion and worship, I arrived early to help, just in case extra hands were needed. At the Dean’s Garden Party two Saturdays ago, he, the dean said there was no way the cathedral could function without the volunteers that help in services and other activities that need doing in the cathedral organisation.

Between right and respect

I soon took over at the door to welcome and hand out the service programme to people who had come to attend the Pride Eucharist and it was notable for the fact that the Bishop of Manchester was also in attendance to welcome, bless, charge, and dismiss the congregation. The clergy that ministered at the altar were all ordained by the bishop too. [The Manchester Pride takes place in the August Bank Holiday weekend from Thursday night through Monday night.]

I had interesting encounters at the door, the cathedral is open to all visitors, and I have probably met visitors from more than 35 countries. However, when there are services in the nave, the church is closed to visitors with a big sign posted at the door informing anyone not attending the ongoing service that the cathedral is closed.

Yet, there are some that ignore the sign and come through the doors insisting they need to visit almost as if it is a matter of right. The difficult conversation that ensues between understanding that the house of God is open and the need to respect that the act of congregational worship should courteously and understandably not be disturbed is almost a battle of wits, reasonableness, and enforcement.

Stand for the open heart

To one lady who was ready to barge in, I told her, there was an ongoing service and except if she was here to attend the Pride Eucharist, the church was now closed to visitors, but she was not going quietly. With a look of incredulity on her face she asked why the church was catering to gay folk, to which I answered that Jesus died for all and the church is an open place of worship for everyone. Much as everyone needs prayer.

She understood as much before we moved on to issues of symbolism and doctrine, by which time, I had to move her from the inside of the church into the corridor of the doorway, with the hope that she would leave peacefully. Yes, we are a Protestant church, the Church of England, The depictions of Jesus or Mary are not venerated in answering other questions before she insisted her sister-in-law was attending the service and she needed to get to her.

Pointing in a direction I could hardly determine, two of a group that was initially hesitant to attend walked towards the door from the furthest part of the seating and they all left the cathedral.

The door of conflict and consent

It soon dawned upon me the precariousness of manning the door, as earlier, someone had left their rucksack at the doorway, which caused a bit of tension that it was inspected by the staff after an announcement did not elicit a response about ownership. Eventually, he returned to claim his bag, but it could have been something else.

Another could barely contain the sense of rage about the church involved in this service, and we have at times had someone come in to disrupt an ongoing service protesting that the gathering was not a reflection of true Christianity, as if disrupting other people’s devotion is Christian in any sense at all.

It was revealed when the Bishop of Manchester in his welcoming remarks stated that one of the requirements that came up in his application for the role was that he needed to be accepted by the LGBTQI+ community of Manchester. I was surprised but what makes for harmony is the welcoming of diversity to the love of Christ and therein the gospel is heard by all rather than limited to a few.

The Pride Eucharist was attended by about 150 people, it was a celebration of Christianity, and many stayed behind for refreshments. Later, the bishop thanked us for serving and stewarding, which included taking the offering and ushering to the communion. A welcoming church allows Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit to do their work rather than become gatekeepers and sentries to the grace and gift of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The cover of the Pride Eucharist programme.

Seeing the madness that intrigues

Looking up to see

Foregoing the discomfort that accompanies welcoming people to the cathedral, the experience is quite enlivening, even if it is in the snatches of conversation and the sharing of the very basic snippets of interest as the angels with string instruments on the right side of the ceiling of the nave as you look towards the altar and the angels with wind instruments on the left side.

As one visitor opined, every time she has visited a church, the most interesting things are found looking up, to which I intoned, if you are looking up to the heavens, the church is an excellent place to be doing that. Then again, you do not have to crank your neck to look up, there is a magnifying mirror like a table from which you can observe the ceiling.

In the path of forebears

Then another who was visiting from Canada, though from these parts had not been back in the UK for over 30 years. Her visit to the cathedral was in commemoration of over 5 generations of family that had been christened, baptised, and married in the church, I would suppose the funerals of many of them would have been conducted by clergy in the diocese too. It was amazing to watch the emotion as she took pictures of the baptismal font where her forebears would have been baptised.

As much as there were visitors from as far away as Chile, there were many from France and Italy too, Hong Kong and China featured as well as an African American family from Switzerland. Though, what surprised me was the number of people from Manchester who had never been to the cathedral before. The gems of interest we miss from proximity are many, even I realised there are still many places in the centre of Manchester that still need to have my footfall.

A homily of madness

As welcomers to the cathedral, we are also exposed to interesting people, of one, I was asked to be very careful because she was assessed as very clingy once engaged. However, it was one on his way out of the cathedral that left me feeling weird and almost out of sorts. He started, “You know society is living on lies?” I could not imagine what he was talking about.

He continued, “The world will convert to Islam by 2050 and this place will change. Do you know why? Because it is 100 years after WWII, we signed up for this.” I should have had the men in white coats on speed dial. He finished with, “England would be the first Islamic country because English is spoken around the world.” I stared at him blank-faced as he made for the exit.

Then unusually I looked out in his direction to be sure he was moving on rather than just waiting around. Though not a terrorist in the typical sense, he was a terrorist to reason given to one of the strangest conspiracy theories I have heard in a long time. Maybe it was time to sit down and give no heed to anything he said, though I find myself remembering more than I would have cared to recollect. We are in a world of madness; it is stranger when you meet one that does it better than us.

The world that comes to us

Saying a little prayer

It was one of the strangest requests I had encountered that left me rather unsure of how to respond. He walked in off the street like everyone else who I had greeted that afternoon, now over 200 of them in just over 2 hours, strangers all, interest common.

Before I could greet him, excited as he was, he asked if I could pray for him, I had a sash on and an identity badge, but I had to protest, I am not a member of the clergy. I was at a confluence of belief systems that have shaped my spirituality in interesting ways. I would expect in the Church of England, you might pray with the spectacle of magisterial homiletics, whereas depending on what spectrum of the Evangelical persuasion you are, let’s not even begin to speculate.

He asked me to light him a candle as he was a bit scared of fire and still insisted I pray. So I did with the almost confusion of the laity doing what they were not trained to do and the mumbling of understanding his distress, a few strong words to remedy the situation that bothered him, for which I believe he was full of faith that coming to the church to ask to be prayed for will help. He left, just as he came in.

The world comes to our cathedral

It was the end of my first shift as a welcoming guide to the Cathedral and what an experience it was for me, that I learnt a lot more than I seemed to offer in terms of the basic information about our cathedral. If I do decide to do this regularly, there is a big consideration to have, the strain on my back as I steady myself with my walking cane, in that 3-hour stint, there were times I did have to sit down because the pain was getting uncomfortable and unbearable.

Visitors came from near and far, alone or in numbers, as family, with friends, in groups with purpose or just on a detour, with lots of time and sometimes barely enough to gather the spectacle of architecture before going on their way. When I asked, the nationalities and the small talk made a connection in my wayfaring archive of what a friend calls my library of seemingly useless information that just becomes pertinent for that engagement.

Probably more than a quarter of the guests were someone living in Manchester bringing someone visiting for the first time. I do not think I encountered anyone from Central or South America, but all other regions presented a representative from many places I had been to and could I remember something quite significant in the exchange.

Learning to learn more

For me, there were two things that stood out, visitors who said they were visiting from Kurdistan and if there was any justice in this world, the people should be a country, but I did ask which of the many Kurdistans as I thought they were at least in three countries and I was informed it was 4 countries, I soon realised from my knowledge of geography that was indeed true.

Another couple came in with beautifully trained and behaved dogs and their visit to our cathedral for which they wanted a more substantial guidebook than the simple folder pamphlet on offer that needed updating, they eventually found someone to help. It was in a later conversation that I learnt that there were 42 cathedrals in England, visiting ours was their 39^th, they had two more to visit in Yorkshire and the last was undergoing extensive renovations, so they will have to wait to visit.

To be more effective, I need to develop beyond the platitude of welcoming to becoming an informed tour guide. There is so much to know about our cathedral, its history, the architecture, the windows, the majestic pipe organ, its function, the furnishings, the chapels, the memorials, the statues, the many influences from when there was a building in the same place from the 13^th Century and the 600^th anniversary of its establishment as a collegiate church.

There is a lot more to think about of my experience today, however, what is most important is, I enjoyed welcoming people to our cathedral.

For church and normalcy

On an easel in the cathedral.

Back to church indeed

Church, a place for Sunday or maybe a Sunday place to meet, whichever way you look at it, this Sunday was not one where I had decided I would be out of bed and ready for joining a congregation some 20 minutes’ walk from home for the Sung Eucharist, but against expectations I did.

One of the shifts about not needing to plan for this was we have moved to a post-pandemic stage of not having to register on the Eventbrite app to attend. The church had returned or assumed a new normalcy and having not attended service for a while because of other engagements as extended rest or being out of town, I was in for a surprise.

The changes I noticed

At the processional hymn, the procession had the clergy as usual and the full choir, not just a cantor and supporters, before then, the Dean came for a general chat to the congregation pointing us to events and programmes in the church week and a particular insert in the service pamphlet before announcing the banns of marriage for two couples. I have not heard the banns for years; surely young congregants are getting married somewhere.

During the service, the laity took the readings of the Word from the pulpit apart from the Gospel that includes ceremony and address attended to by the clergy. Even if I got more involved in church activities, I doubt I would readily take the offer to do a reading from the Bible. I dread the amplification of my voice; it sounds alien to me that I have shied from microphones. If I cannot project my voice naturally to a listening audience in a smallish place, I won’t be straining it in a hall. A public speaker, I am not.

Of things not imagined

For Communion, rather than the warden doing the ushering as has been the case for most of the last two years, we have two ladies from the congregation helping for order and at the end of the service, we gathered for teas and coffee, indoors where we socially interacted with other congregants. The only vestige of the pandemic left was a majority wore face masks during the service.

Whilst I have attended church a few times since July, this year marked the 600^th Anniversary Celebration of the Collegiate Church and Queen Elizabeth II came to visit the church on the 8^th of July on one of her first major outings since Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh passed on. I was not present as I learnt of the event after the fact, but the plaque she unveiled as on display and now the whole church was open to visit including all the chapels within the main cathedral and so there was much to display and see. [Manchester Cathedral: Her Majesty’s visit to Manchester Cathedral]

Lest I forget, the processional hymn did not end in a crescendo but in the almost quiet of the context of the words we sang, for in these troubled pandemic times, nothing could be more comforting than this:

Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still small voice of calm!
[The New English Hymnal NEH 353 Dear Lord and Father of mankind]

Take me to the church by app

Have your tickets ready

In this new dispensation as the lockdown is being eased, the main event I look forward to is attending church on Sunday. We register on the Eventbrite app for the purposes of managing numbers and possible consequent tracking and tracing, if perchance this Coronavirus invades our space.

It is much easier to install the app on your mobile phone and process the free invitation there than to have it emailed to you and printed out for you to present it to the ushers on paper. On this visit, only my surname was asked for. I had first registered from the church’s Facebook page which offered the email route before I realised it was possible using an app. Thankfully, my first registration did not take up a needed space as the church itself did not appear as full as last week.

Silent day, of loud patter

I arrived quite early and took a seat in the socially distanced seating arrangement that is now the standard in church. Certain seats were labelled for family units to sit together, but most were individual seats with the programme for the liturgy already on the seat as opposed to it being handed out to us by the ushers as we arrived at the door.

For the 10 to 15 minutes before the service began, we were enveloped by stillness, a silence for which the only time it was interrupted was the sound of the footfalls of entrants or the odd irritable cough before the processional hymns was played over the loudspeakers for the procession of the clergy.

Traditions held up

Again, we did not rise to sing, we sat through the whole service except for when we participated in the sacrament of the holy communion, of which only the bread was offered with the words spoken only in the heart with reverence.

The Sung Eucharist which could stretch to just short of 2 hours, is over within the hour. Much as we were advised to promptly leave after the service, we lingered about to be acknowledged by the clergy and catch up with fellow worshippers. We do not expect the church to permanently take up this revised order of service, but for now, it is the best we can do for public worship.

Surreal as it may seem, the congregation is adapting well to some fine-tuning every week.

The Opening: Church with a difference

Opening - Andrew Rudd, Manchester Cathedral Poet-in-Residence.

The closing of life as we knew it

I was last in church at the Manchester Cathedral on the 8^th of March some 17 weeks ago because of global circumstances well beyond our control, but within the ambit of managing, if our government had given a bit more consideration to what the Coronavirus pandemic portended.

I believe the church held services for another Sunday before they put up restrictions on public worship and then soon the nation was put on lockdown barring all social, religious, and most economic activity. My reading of the situation from the day after I was in church was that I belonged in a vulnerable group that needed to take more precautions than were prescribed, I did not receive good enough assurances to attend services again.

For a new beginning

From then on, I tried to attend services on the church’s Facebook page, it remained a means to stay connected with my religious community. On Friday, following the announcement to ease lockdown restrictions, the church published the resumption of services under a COVID-19 sensitive arrangement that was primarily a ticketed event.

I acquired a ticket and was all excited in anticipation for church today. With hand sanitiser and Chinese fan in my bag, along with a facial mask in my pocket that I did not eventually use, I took a brisk walk to church noting that either the campanologists or whatever substitute of the chiming of the bells was not engaged to announce the call to the sanctuary.

A setting like none before

At the door, I showed my invitation and I was ushered in to first use the automated hand sanitiser dispenser and advised to find a seat to occupy. To the right of the altar was a free chair at the very front and without hesitation, I took it.

The chairs were well-spaced out accounting for the required social distancing, except for those occupied by the family social unit. The processional hymn was played through loudspeakers and a live recording was relayed by a tablet device on a tripod to the church’s Facebook Live page.

The Dean presided over the service which dispensed with many of the Anglican traditions of rising to sing, singing out hymns, kneeling to pray, offering bowls passed around or receiving the full gifts of the sacrament of the communion. We did not even have leave to assemble to socialise for tea and coffee after the service. It was a new awkward and unusual dispensation that might run for a while.

A newness to embrace

We did everything sitting down, and whilst we participated in the call-response elements of the service, we placed our offerings in a bowl at the black of the church and only receive the bread of life for communion, the clergy fully protected with facial masks and gloves.

It was a well-attended service, the opening became like when after the flood, Noah sent out a dove to help determine if there was land to which the ark could be brought to rest. The same sentiment was presented in the poem that I took a picture of at the end of the service.

In the newness of the times, may our hopes be rekindled for the celebration of abundant life in the goodness and mercies of the Lord.

There Will Be No Epiphany

My Anglican Communion

I like the community and the camaraderie of the church I attend. Having been to many temples of varying Christian interpretations of worship and liturgy, I have found a welcoming in my Church of England - Anglican roots.

The Manchester Cathedral or by its proper name, the Cathedral and Collegiate Church of St Mary, St Denys and Saint George became a cathedral in 1847, it was granted collegiate status in 1421, but it is believed a church has existed in this location for over a millennium.

It mixes the traditional with the modern, and I am thrown by the Latin pieces of music for which there are English translations that are sung interminably that if the words were put to the three lines of verse, you might find it stretching to over 21 lines.

Consideration of others

Occasionally, there is incense, but every Sunday morning at 10:30 AM is the Sung Eucharist which is a service that culminates in holy communion. The community starts with the call-response between the president and the congregation when we offer each other the sign of peace with handshakes and after the service, we gather for a drink of tea or coffee with biscuits. There, we get to start conversations with strangers who would become acquaintances and then friends.

The sermon today broached on the subject of wickedness, not so much on being evil but on attitudes and behaviours to others in terms of indifference, disrespect, lack of consideration, selfishness and so on.

It made me reflect on an encounter earlier in the day where one that could be called a friend had taken liberties in the display of a complete lack of consideration for the other that a gentle entreaty quickly escalated into an unnecessary but essential outburst of rage. Yet, in spite of and despite the sometimes incomprehensive and usually reprehensible machinations of this friend, in the heart, there is a liking that prevents the termination of the friendship. It is a trying work of patience.

A pillar of the community

We are given a pamphlet as we enter the church, it is the order of service with the hymns, the readings and notices. One of the notices was for Friday the 20^th of December at 10:00 AM which had been moved back 30 minutes, the memorial service for Michael Oglesby CBE DL, it goes to reflect how I appear to live in Manchester and hardly know what is going on in my city.

Michael Oglesby owns 20% of the commercial office space in Manchester city centre and owns more than 120 buildings in Greater Manchester, Cheshire, Liverpool, Leeds and Birmingham through his Bruntwood property group. [MEN]

Tributes to him followed from the University of Manchester where The Oglesby Cancer ResearchBuilding is named for him. There was a good spread in the Financial Times that talked of his reviving Manchester and Liverpool along with his philanthropic activities. This was no doubt a great pillar of our community whose life will be celebrated on Friday. [UoM][Financial Times]

A revelation of difference

My sense of belonging is getting stronger too, The Dean of the Cathedral is from South Africa and he is known at St George’s Cathedral in Cape Town, which I attend when out there. Now, the Sung Eucharist in Cape Town is even more traditional, always incense, singing canticles and a lot of Latin too. The church used to be the archbishopric of Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

As we weave between conversation, coincidence and communion, there will be no epiphany even as we close on that feast, for the communication of our faith becomes effectual by the acknowledging of every good thing which is in us in Christ Jesus. Our Anglican community brings good things out of us. [BibleGateway]

Courtesy of the William Kentridge exhibition at Zeitz MOCAA, Cape Town.