From the Bishop of London, through St Clement, to the Emperor Napoleon

Thanks to our previous blogpost More than Words having been shared on Facebook (if you are not a member of our Facebook group, please think about signing up, the link is in the right hand sidebar of this blog), then having been highlighted by the Ordinariate Portal blog and then finally having been referred to in a few other blogs, we have had very many more visitors than usual over the past couple of days.  A warm welcome to any new readers who have stuck with us and who are now reading their first post-big event blogpost here.

This blog started with the intention of documenting the arrival of our Ordinariate Group in the Catholic Church, and by reporting that we were quite happy with where we had ended up.  Early posts talked of the background to the decision making process, steps along the way in that thought process and then recounted some early experiences.  As time has gone on, posts have gone up based on streams of consciousness inspired by thoughts of the saint of the day, or from some news article or developments or blogposts elsewhere.  Occasionally, we have even strayed into the dangerous field of commenting on what is happening of relevance to our Anglo-Catholic friends still fighting the good fight in the CofE, as we did yesterday: but when commenting on Ordinariate-related matters, as seen from either side of the Tiber, we tend to focus on the happy landing we have had, rather than on the challenges facing those we have very sadly left behind on the other shore.

Today's post is not about the trials and tribulations of Anglo-Catholicism.  There are enough people writing about that already.  Instead, a few brief thoughts on St Clement (with absolutely no mention of Philadelphia).

St Clement, one of the very earliest popes, is one of the names from history that provides a connection with the time of Christ.  Pew fodder like me (sometimes referred to more politely as the laity) so often hear all these marvellous stories from the Gospels, but without the occasional dose of historical perspective, this can sometimes risk appearing to be rather remote.  St Clement, who became Pope at the end of the first century AD, is said to have been ordained by St Peter, and was in Rome at the time St Paul was (and was possibly one of the Romans to whom the Epistle to the Romans was addressed).  He may well be the Clement referred to in Philippians 4:3.

And I entreat thee also, my sincere companion, help those women who have laboured with me in the gospel, with Clement and the rest of my fellow labourers, whose names are in the book of life.

The one surviving document of his, a Letter to the Church in Corinth, is considered among the earliest, indeed possibly the earliest, Christian document after the component books of the New Testament.   The significance of this early letter for those with an interest in Roman primacy and in the threefold structure of Holy Order is that the letter includes authoritative admonitions from St Clement about events that have taken place in the Church in Corinth, and reminding his readers of the hierarchy of the offices of bishop, priest and deacon. 

It is one of those texts that sits very uneasily with the charming but not necessarily entirely accurate image conjured up when people talk cosily of something being "very early church", a term which for some reason now often appears to mean something closer to Quaker prayer meetings than to the highly ritualistic worship of the first century Jewish temple or indeed the very early Church (as Fr Hunwicke has discussed on his blog far more eruditely and eloquently than I ever could). 

St Clement, along with two of the other early popes (Linus and Cletus) are mentioned by name in the Roman Canon.  For those of us who follow the text week by week in the missal (covered by the singing of the Sanctus, the Celebrant's words are usually inaudible at St James's at this point), this provides yet another historical link to the first century.

St Clement's life, as one might expect for a Christian leader at that time, did not end pleasantly.  He is said to have been exiled to a colonial outpost near modern day Sebastopol in the Ukraine during the reign of the Emperor Trajan, and at some point thereafter, he was martyred by being thrown into the Black Sea tied to an anchor.  Given his importance as one of the very first popes, St Clement is almost always pictured in at least mitre, and often in tiara.  When it comes to images of his martyrdom, this leads to some rather interesting results, as this picture shows. 

The Basilica of San Clemente in Rome houses the tombs of St Clement (and of St Ignatius of Antioch).  This minor Basilica became one of the sites frequented by Blessed John Paul II during his years as Pope, on occasions when he wished to pray in particular for Poland, his native land, and for the countries of Eastern Europe.  The reason for the Pope John Paul's many vists was that the Basilica also contains the remains of St Cyril and Methodius, saints who evangelised much of Eastern Europe, and who in 868 brought the mortal remains of St Clement to Rome.

New readers of this blog may not be aware that many of our posts end with a rather tenuous link to a piece of music.  The Alleluia for a Mass of St Clement celebrated today is Tu es Petrus, of which the awe-inspiring setting by James MacMillan, as sung at Westminster Cathedral last year for the Holy Father's visit, is included in the right-hand sidebar of this blog.  The search is then for an alternative setting for inclusion today.  As St Clement was a Pope who struggled with (and was eventually killed by) secular powers, I find my mind somehow turning to Pope Pius VII, a Pope who spent his entire Papacy struggling against French Imperial interference. 

One of the most humiliating moments of his papacy must have been his participation in the extraganza and cavalcade that was what we in English usually call the Coronation of Napoleon, but in fact is properly called the Sacre de Napoleon, the Consecration of Napoleon (French royalty having been consecrated with chrism by the Archbishop of Rheims as the key moment of their formally becoming monarch, rather than the crowning being the crucial thing that people remember).  Huge pressure was placed on Pope Pius VII to attend, and despite recent assasinations of Church officials in France, and against the advice of the Roman Curia, Pius did end up attending (how voluntary this decision was is a matter of debate).  As every school boy and girl used to know, at the crucial moment, Napoleon took the crown himself and placed it on his own head, before himself crowning the Empress Josephine.  The humiliated Pope could do no more than stick to the script and announce "Vivat Imperator in Aeternum", before listening to the choir sing first the Te Deum and then, during the acclamations of the people as Napoleon processed out, "Domine salvum fac imperatorem nostrum Napoleonem".

The Papal Procession had earlier set off for Notre Dame from the Tuileries led by a bishop, carrying a processional cross and seated on a donkey (does that almost count as quasi-Anglican Patrimony, thinking of Aunt Dot and her camel, Fr Chantry-Pigg and the Towers of Trebizond?).  When the Pope arrived at Notre Dame and processed in (minus donkey I suppose, there is no donkey in the David painting of the event), the choir sang the Le Sueur setting of Tu es Petrus.  There you go, I warned you that I liked tenuous links.




St Clement, pray for us.

O Yes, We Have no Lions

We were pleased yesterday to be visited at St James's by two long-standing friends of the members of our Ordinariate group, both Anglicans, and both more than happy to come to see what St James's was like.  Rather good, was the answer to their question.  Fr Colven gave a thought-provoking homily, the liturgy was beautifully presented and the music was excellent. The Offertory motet was a favourite from my (and our guests') Pusey House days, Mendelssohn's setting of Ave Maria.  Indeed, the piece reached Pusey House precisely because I had just bought the then brand new Westminster Cathedral CD from which the recording below is taken.



The Father Faber recessional hymn, "O purest of creatures! Sweet mother, sweet maid," was a very happy reminder of Walsingham pilgrimages and parish processions past.  Much joy all round.



After all that, we repaired to a nearby pub (surely an example of Anglican Patrimony) for a couple of drinks and thence to lunch. 

If, by opening this "window on the Catholic Church", we can show our Anglican friends that there is a real likelihood (risk?) that they might in fact like what they find, then we feel that have performed "some definite service".  Doing that doesn't meant that they will want to follow us, but it does mean that we help to remove any negative pre-conceptions, so that people, in their own time and for their own reasons, can come to their own conclusions on the basis of the reality they would face, were they ever to wonder about life within the Ordinariate.  The decision can only be theirs, not ours, but we can help ensure that they have the full facts at their disposal.

As much as anyone, we know that closing the door on one very familiar place of worship and opening the door on another can be daunting (even without implications on employment and housing).  That's why it is absolutely vital that all of us as Catholics make sure that those thinking about joining us are aware of the many things that they will love about the Church.  By that, I do not only refer to the privilege of being, without doubt, part of the One Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church, nor of Sacramental Assurance, nor of the joy of being in communion with the Holy Father : Anglicans with even the slightest peripheral interest in the Ordinariate are well aware of those. 

No, I mean the practical day-to-day aspects of being involved in the Catholic Church.  Some of those who might one day make the journey to join the Catholic Church are not only worried about things they might leave behind, but also anxious about what they might find when they arrive.  Where we can allay some of those anxieties, we each have a duty to do so.

Then beyond that, we also need to reassure people who have in their minds negative perceptions, in some cases fed to them deliberately in order to put them off the idea of joining the Catholic Church.  In a blogpost last month, we referred to the false image that some have, that the Catholic Church is a cold place, full of uncaring people imposing impossible rules, with no thought for or awareness of those who live "real lives".  It is worthwhile rereading that post, and watching the video of the Holy Father that is included.   The Catholic Church is for everyone, and all who wish to be welcomed will be welcomed.

The Ordinariate is a positive thing, joined by people for positive reasons, not because people were running away from their former homes.  Indeed, the "former homes" were usually rather nice, thank you very much: nobody walks away from the buildings and communities of eg St Mary's Bourne St or St Barnabas Tunbridge Wells easily.  No, those who have joined did so joyfully because they placed the need for Catholic Unity as amongst the highest of priorities, because they saw that the Holy Father had responded positively and generously to repeated requests from Anglicans, and because they could see no reason good enough to justify deciding to keep themselves outside the Catholic Church.

The joy in the Ordinariate is easy to see.  The welcome we have received at the parish level is beyond doubt, whether or not there might be politicking going on elsewhere.  Of course, we want to share that joy.  As Fr Ed Tomlinson points out on his blog, a second wave is now building up of Anglicans looking to come into the full communion of the Catholic Church.  It may well be that once the Church of England's General Synod has met next year, a third wave could build up.  There could even be further waves at later stages, because each person and each group will come to their own conclusions at their own times.  There is no time limit on Anglicanorum Coetibus.

It isn't easy to leave behind what is so familiar: a parish church you were baptised or married in; a parish church you have been involved with for years; a particular vision of the Church of England that has been dear to your heart.  It's doubly difficult for those whose livelihoods and housing are dependent on all that.  So, our duty as Ordinariate members is to answer questions, to reassure, to encourage, and to pray.

Today, in the modern calendar, is the Feast of St Ignatius of Antioch, one of our earliest links to the time of Christ, St Peter and St John the Apostle, who through his surviving letters has given us some understanding of the developing theology of that early period. 

In the context of the discussion above, his direct relevance is that he is thought to be the first known writer to have used the phrase Catholic Church, and when he did use it in writing, just after the turn of the first century AD, he used it in the manner of an established term, rather than of a neat turn of phrase that he had just created.  This is said to be potential evidence that the term Catholic Church existed and was understood as an entity even in the part of the first century.

A robust believer in the Eucharist truly being the body and blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Ignatius willingly and indeed eagerly accepted his fate as a martyr, being thrown to the lions in the Colisseum in Rome.

The sacrifices asked of those considering joining the Ordinariate today are rather less life-limiting of course.  However, we should not be flippant in underestimating how much thought and reflection is required, and just how difficult that step can be.  Some say that those of us who have gone already are the brave pioneers, and perhaps so in some ways: but each individual journey, or consideration given to a journey, is a challenge of its own. 

St Ignatius of Antioch, pray for us.