Sunday, 22 February 2009

God and Monsters.

This week has been full of children, not my own as you have probably guessed by now but both from my usual employment as well as my visiting small nephew and niece and then, when I thought it was all over, a telephone call came from Marion around the corner saying that Jack, her visiting small relation wanted to come round. Last time he came he showed a great interest in wearing the vestments which were lying around waiting to be taken to Church, but this time he produced three pictures, which I have promised to share with the world via this blog. Thank you Jack for the pictures, which are in my Dining Room as we speak on the mantelpiece with the card my nephew Edward designed.

Back to the usual business of looking at Churches we go after that welcome break from the usual and this sign is to be found on the North door of Saint Wilfrid's Church in Ribchester, where you can also find the White Bull public house, which offers the best value set lunch in the Ribble Valley, it is not the cheapest, but it has the benefit of a modest price as well as astonishingly high quality. Father John Francis, friend of Anglican Wanderings, (for it is he who allowed us to come to Stydd Chapel a couple of years ago,) is the incumbent of Ribchester and Stydd and responsible for this sign, which could grace the door of any Church, encouraging people to enter the Church to pray and offer intercessions to God in the Blessed Sacrament. This Sunday we are playing music before Mass for the first time, in a bid to foster prayer and devotion rather than the talking which is available all week long, anywhere. To give up ten minutes or so before Mass, before Christ, seems not too much to ask, but in a bid to encourage this, we are going to play quiet Gregorian Chant. Whether this will serve as an aid to prayer or another distraction to talk over remains to be seen.

And, to be honest, if I had to choose a house of God and gate of Heaven, I could do no worse than this place, by the Ribble, nestling in a fine stone village in the valley which I love where, as we all know, the Hobbits lived.

A glorious light bathed sanctuary.

And a very English Nave, domestic, well loved and well used.