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Showing posts with label sung eucharist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sung eucharist. Show all posts

Monday, 6 April 2026

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

Sunday, 16 February 2025

Making much of my Sundays

My church, a community

My church, the cathedral in my city, serves as a community where I find fellowship and friendship. While I have been a steward, I have not resumed that function since I went for treatment, my energy levels are much better now, not at the stage where I could be an effective steward.

The more public activity is when one does one of the readings, the last time I was scheduled to do the reading, in December, I had to give up my place as I was going to be away in Cape Town.

The first version of the rota published a few weeks ago had me scheduled to read the only reading for Palm Sunday, I carried that in my bosom until I reviewed the updated rota, a more prominent person had supplanted me.

At church with improvements

Whether I had my natural voice back or not, I was determined that I would attend whatever readings I was scheduled for with electronic amplification for my frail voice. Each service I attend shows some improvements, such as not needing to use the conveniences until after the service or being able to fully participate in the standing parts of the sung eucharist.

The more obvious one is that I can walk the distance from home to church and back, whereas before I travelled, I needed assistance because I lacked the strength to do so.

The other Sunday, I arrived as the processional hymn was being sung, it is quite unusual for me to arrive late to church so I sat in a different place close to the children’s corner. What I racket they made; it was impossible to concentrate. Then last week, the Racial Justice Sunday had York visiting, I sat in the same row as his wife and the dean’s spouse. As in the Archbishop of York.

How things are developing

The row behind us as a child and his parents, they chuntered through the whole service, my backward glances did nothing to moderate the disturbance. The same garrulous troupe was there today, I do not know what informed them to move towards the more adequate children’s section before the service commenced.

One of the hymns had quite a discordant tune. I could not follow it until the fourth verse, and it was still a struggle. I sing all alright, but I do lag in the recitations and singing, too. In the end, I plumped for the decaffeinated coffee. Since decaffeinated tea is rarely available, I had to get on a bus for a 30-minute ride to a big supermarket to replenish my stock of decaffeinated Earl Grey tea.

The last Village Church service I met in the middle of the homily, my nap ended a few minutes before the start, and just as I thought of taking a rain check, I got a message from a friend asking if I was attending. I dressed up and rushed out; it was just around the corner from my place.

The Lord’s Prayer in Yoruba, I wrote that out this morning with all the essential diacritical marks, it is what I recite when it comes to the time for prayer. I might be doing that on a recording of it for a week of the recitations of the Lord’s Prayer in other languages at a church event in May.

Church is a community I enjoy.

Àdúrà Olúwa

Baba wa tí ńb ní ọ̀run,
K
í á bọ̀wọ̀ fún orúk r,
Kí ìj
ba ìr dé,
Ìfẹ̀
tìr ni kí á e ní aiyé,
Bí wọ́n ti
ńe ní ọ̀run,
F
ún wa l'óúnj òjọ́ wa l'óòní,
D
árí ẹ̀ẹ̀ wa jì wá,
B
í a tí ń dárí ẹ̀ẹ̀ ji àwn tí ó ẹ̀ wá,
M
á fà wá sínú ìdánwò,
ùgbón gbà wá lọ́wọ́ bìlísì,
N
ítorí ìjba ni tìr, agbára ni tìr, ògo ni tìr,
Láí Láí,
Àmín.

Friday, 24 February 2023

Ash Wednesday as I participated

Learning a new focus of trust

This week has been one of the interesting contrasts in how to maintain focus in an environment of distractions, some harmful and others hopefully more beneficial. One thing I had decided was to be more participatory in this season of the church calendar, and this I mean, the Church of England – Anglican Communion arrangement.

I probably could have given some heed to doing something for Shrove Tuesday, I had the flour, and I could have made pancakes, yet I was exhausted and drawn away in thought and reminiscences that were quite unprofitable and redolent of interactions with seemingly sincere but quite unreliable people. Eventually, I find I can step away from the situation to reflect on how in words of the old hymnal, Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus, ‘the arm of flesh will fail you, ye dare not trust your own’, or that of any other too.

An eerie feeling of compounding disappointment and dejection seeks to occupy your thoughts and reins for which despondency intends to feed you the tears of apparent helplessness, yet you cannot relent for the hope that abounds and the love of God you are striving to understand and learning to believe beyond platitude and the scribed to experience.

A mortal in eternal purpose

The Lenten season is ushered in with Ash Wednesday and I had some excitement about attending the church service which was termed the Holy Eucharist with the Imposition of Ashes. It is one tradition I have never before participated in. When I told my mum about it earlier today, she thought it was a purely Roman Catholic tradition, I guess there are many areas where Roman Catholic and Anglican conventions overlap or are shared.

It was a solemn meeting in a medium capacity seating for that time in the afternoon. The highlight was The Imposition of the Ashes, wherein, the congregation files to the front before the ministers to have the sign of the cross in ashes placed on their foreheads. With the words said:

Remember that you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from sin,
and be faithful to Christ.

Taken from the second clause in the verse of Genesis 3:19, “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”

Quite a moment of spiritual recognition and an almost trembling appreciation of our humble mortality in the context of an eternal dispensation. I do wonder if it would have felt more poignant if that was said in Latin, “Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.”

Intention for guidance and direction

After that, we then participated in the Breaking of the Bread signifying the work of redemption and the new covenant in Jesus Christ as our gathering ended quietly apart from music from the majestic Stoller Organ.

This period of Lent would be used to help attuned one’s spirit to the witness and the voice of the human spirit, given the direction of the Holy Spirit, away from distractions, distortions, noise, and confusion that can so easily leave one unsure of purpose, direction, peace, and guidance.

On the question of spirituality, I am learning that it is more an individual experience than identification with creed, church, or denomination. Where you are blessed is where you should be.

Monday, 18 April 2022

Coronavirus streets on Easter Sunday - LXV

Easter Sunday for church

I had all the determination for attending church on Easter Sunday even if I did nothing else, in my mind I had decided on what to wear along with how it would be accessorised to be noticeably different and striking, as one is wont to do because there is rarely the occasion to dress up anymore.

I also remembered that Easter Sunday is one of those Sundays when the major shops and shopping precincts are not open, so, I expected a rather uneventful walk to church even as the weather appeared to present the glory of a fine day to come.

Like the Easter Sunday last year, the church was brimming with activity with most of the seating taken up down the middle and to the sides. I took a seat to the east side facing the altar with a view of that and the pulpit, just as the organist began the fanfare before the processional hymn.

Are we there yet?

One could see that with the relaxation of pandemic restrictions, not many had adhered to the requirement that we all don face masks or coverings as much as possible. The cathedral announced through the dean that we were for the first time in over two years going to have the full Communion with the serving of the bread and the wine, but no dipping of the bread in the wine.

For giving each other the sign of peace, a majority still refrained from shaking hands, preferring to clasp hands and bow, or just wave to fellow congregants. During the offertory hymn, we also had the collection basket passed around. A return to some sort of normalcy had begun even with the reticence of many.

Everything with wisdom and caution

I passed on having the wine for Communion as did others that I observed, I guess we are not yet at the stage of cocking a snook at COVID-19. It is still out there, and my neighbour had just recovered from it. The canon who preached was delivering his last homily before retirement at the end of this month.

As to the atmosphere, it was electric, the singing heavenly, and the crowd warm, if not exuberant. Then, everywhere in the cathedral was open for the first time after the pandemic lockdowns began. We pray for God’s protection and safety as the times change. Viewing from Bulawayo too was Brian, it is a comfort to know he was there in spirit. Happy Easter break.

Wednesday, 9 February 2022

God save the Queen and I

Beyond the turmoil

The Sung Eucharist for the Fourth Sunday before Lent had much of an accession theme as it was quite ministering to my state of mind. As much as I had the intention of attending to celebrate the platinum jubilee of the reign of our Sovereign Lady, Elizabeth our Queen, along the way was the funfair for the Chinese New Year at Chinatown that I did much to miss on my return.

The Processional Hymn climaxed at the quietude of these lines that I received with a sense of gratitude.

Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still small voice of calm!

New English Hymnal (NEH 353)

During the singing of the Gloria in Excelsis, sung only by the choir, you follow what is being said so far until between the orchestration of music and singing, you are lost in the mystery of Latin imitating the esoteric of the spiritual, like the transponder of an aircraft switched off and untraceable in flight until, near the end of the journey, you grasp what is going on, just before the final Amen.

At the call to serve

At the Gradual Hymn before the reading of the Gospel, I found some encouragement in my apparent vulnerability from the ending of the first and last verses.

Will you let my life be grown,
In you and you in me?

Thus I’ll move and live and grow,
In you and you in me.

Common Praise (CP 662)

I was tapping my left foot to the Scottish Traditional melody of this hymn as I was signing and meditating on the words of it. It is known as the Summons, the call to service and ministry.

Though, keeping with the spirit of monarchic significance, during Communion, the choir was in full voice signing Zadok the Priest, composed by George Frideric Handel for the coronation of George II in 1727. The lyrics of which derived from Scripture are in their simplicity not as orchestrated as the singing, and the gender is not changed for the sex of the reigning monarch that we would do for the anthem God Save the Queen; written in 1745 also during the reign of George II; that we sang in two verses without the controversial middle one, at the end of the service.

Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anointed Solomon king,
And all the people rejoiced and said:
God save the King! Long live the King! God save the King!
May the King live for ever. Amen. Hallelujah.

Saturday, 25 December 2021

A Merry Christmas noted

By fate we were late

We entered Christmas slightly in a demur and sober mood, crashing out the night before in the living room, I on the so-called sofa-bad hewn out of rock that each shift was a creak in body ache allegro, you would find more comfort in wincing. He on the rug that sheds its thread at peak alopecia, and I doubt it was any more comfortable, but when I woke up in the witching hour, I got both of us to the bedroom and the comfort of the bed.

The Christmas service had to be registered for as the church was only going to admit 250 worshippers due to Coronavirus precautions. It was to start at 10:00 AM and for all our early wakefulness and preparations, we arrived as they were finishing the processional hymn and found seats to the front left nave with a good view of the altar and the celebrants.

In the humanity of our frailties

The president was Reverend Michael Lapsley, whose storied life of priesthood and social justice activism included having both his hands blown off by a letter bomb sent to him by the Apartheid regime. The atmosphere was lively and solemn, the choir in full angelic voice especially for the Latin recitals.

The Sung Eucharist is quite conservative and traditional that when censer was filled, I thought of it as God’s shisha, for it smoked up like one was observing a full burnt offering, a sweet savour to the Lord as the Bible has usefully described that Old Testament sacrament. I could do without finding fault in things as the pamphlet had mean for meek in one of the carols and the Gospel was read from John when it indicated Luke, the Latin for heavens is Caeli, but it had Coeli, amongst other things.

At the end of the service, we posed for some pictures before stepping out to greet the ministers, going to breakfast, crowd watching at V&A Waterfront before returning home for Christmas dinner. It has been a wonderful and beautiful day; I hope you all had a beautiful merry Christmas.

Sunday, 4 April 2021

Easter ushering in the new

As we began

During the processional hymn, the clergy filed into the church, in resplendent vestments, rich in colour, the Bishop of Manchester, The Right Reverend Dr. David Walker, with mitre and shepherd’s crook and always to my fascination, sandal-shod, bringing up the rear.

He was the president of the Easter Sunday Sung Eucharist as a surveyed the church in which I stood, barely a seat vacant, the fullest it has been since before the pandemic. The worship conventions suffused in the mystique and mystery of Latin hymns sung by the lay clerks, but for the English translations, we would be in another heaven of tongues roaring like thunder to our hearing.

Onto the new

The sermon was predicated on newness excerpted from part of the Collect, “Lord of all life and power, who through the mighty resurrection of your Son overcame the old order of sin and death to make all things new in him.” We were encouraged to begin to see the new in a new from that which we once knew. The new normal will never be back to normal, but it has to be a better normal in every aspect of life.

After the dismissal, we were in for a surprise treat, the Bishop said we could follow the clergy out in the recession where we would all congregate outside on the grounds of the church, socially distanced with essential safety measures to then sing the recessional hymn together. For the first time, we sang as a congregation in well over a year, it was uplifting and rousing. The first line introducing us to the amazing story of Easter. ‘Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son.’ [Wikipedia: Thine be the glory]

After a short chat to the Bishop, leaving church, I thought I will get a few things from the shops, it never dawned on me as I have rarely been in the UK at Easter to realise that like Christmas Day, the main shops and shopping precincts are closed for Easter Sunday. I guess you always find that you learn something new.

Sunday, 7 March 2021

Looking forward to meeting in church

We are back in fellowship

Through the many emails that I now receive from our church in Manchester keeping us abreast of issues, news, and events, I learnt we were now having in-person congregational services in the church cathedral. I do not know when that was reinstituted, but I do remember it is something I have missed during this pandemic year.

It was almost midnight and I was not sure if I felt it safe enough to attend. In any case, I logged on EventBrite, the ticket booking app and registered to attend the Sung Eucharist this morning. However, well into the morning, I had not convinced myself it was something I wanted to do.

Then out of bed I leapt, had a shower and dressed up as if ready to go. By the time, it seemed I might just do it, it was 15 minutes to the start of service that will take almost a 20-minute walk. One of the stays on my mask came apart and in the flux of the moment, I decided, it was better to watch the service on Facebook Watch on my television.

Remembering the times

At communion, I recognised a number of acquaintances, it was not a busy service and I could see myself attending next Sunday. It was literally a year ago on the 8th of March that I attended the last service in person before my concerns about pandemic safety kept me away the next Sunday after which the country went into full lockdown until the month of July.

I do hope that this is the beginning of some return to a kind of normalcy, I was last in church on the 1st of November, just before the second major lockdown. 10 days after my first vaccine jab, I should begin to feel a bit safe whilst not dispensing of the essential COVID-19 safety measures. There is hope and possibility beyond what we see today.

Sunday, 20 December 2020

Back in church in Cape Town

Without notice or direction

Last Sunday, we did lie-in though it was unclear from visiting the St. George’s Cathedral website whether in-person services were taking place. When we finally stepped out, it was already three hours after the morning service starts, there was no indication that the church had been open earlier in the Sunday.

The big noticeboard had disappeared and the other one normally for announcing other events had the service notes for the previous week and when it was updated it was still lagging by a week. We determined we would find out today. Woke up early and made for church without knowing what the situation would be. We were already there before we were assured.

Finding order in our disorder

Stepping in, we sanitised our hands, had our temperature taken and then signed in our names before taking our seats in a socially distanced arrangement of chairs. Ours were probably the closest together, and on the row behind, the seats to be left vacant were marked with an X in masking tape.

The service is usually conducted from a pamphlet and an insert, shuffling between the two to determine where were we at was an art of resignation because some of the recitations referenced from pamphlet to insert and vice versa were in neither, we just followed the experience.

Between the standing and sitting, it was not entirely clear whether the congregation was to join in or not, I whispered that parts I could follow and the singing was best carried by the choir, numbering just a few but rousing in their renditions and voices. On the procession at the close of the service, I was surprised that so few could project so well, they were probably joined by angels.

A prophet of lustful compromise

After the sermon, we were about to recite the Apostle’s Creed, when from the back of the church in what we first thought was a variation to the Sung Eucharist, a man dressed well enough to evade suspicion called out declaring he was a prophet of God and began to rain curses like prophets of the Old Testament for some perceived sin of whoever got his goat, none of which I intend to repeat of what I heard.

The President simply continued the service unperturbed and the usher gently took him by the arms to go and find other wildernesses to rot away in. My understanding is the office of the prophet changed from the Old Testament to the New Testament, a prophet will speak by the Holy Spirit to edify and build the church, confirming things that are unresolved or remain mysteries.

The blessing we had

The age when the prophet had no grace and peace to offer is long past and those who proclaim to be prophets of God are tested of the truth and the alignment with scripture and that determines whether they are speaking their own vanities to instil fear and loathing or lifting hearts, minds, and lives to the amazing grace of God.

We continued our service to the end; the open doors of the church are inviting to those who solemnly seek to reflect and pray whilst being respectful of other worshippers. Holy Communion during pandemic times is just the bread without the wine. It was a blessing to be back in our church in Cape Town.

Sunday, 12 July 2020

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.

Sunday, 5 July 2020

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 8th 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.

Sunday, 15 December 2019

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 20th 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.