Concerning The High Church

Along the lines of my last post, I wanted to spend a short time simply describing one experience I had with what might be considered High Church.  

While I was in London on an internship, I attended an Anglo-Catholic (Anglican) church named St. Augustine of Canterbury.  The details are murky, but I think St. Augustine (note: of Canterbury, not Hippo) was an early missionary to Britain in the Middle Ages.  Anyhow, it was a church on the same block as my flat and exceptionally beautiful.  Constructed in the 1860's, it doesn't qualify as old by London standards.  

My feelings on the experience are mixed.  The pathetic attendance barely filled the first two rows and over half the attendees were very old.  One of the sermons preached on what I can only assume was the acceptability of homosexual clergy.  I can only assume because the church body was so innocuous that I couldn't determine any meaningful theological position.  None at all.  But for the very traditional liturgy, I could just as reasonably conclude it was some wild space cult as it was a Christian people.  Perhaps I was witnessing a museum-exhibit perform with live actors who, but for the utterly confused prattle of their off-script improvisation, might actually have passed for the real thing.  Anyhow, whatever theology I could discern from the sermon, I disagreed with.

I have strayed from my point.  I am not familiar with traditional sanctuary architecture.  I recall the floor-plan is typically shaped as a cross, but I suppose that depends on the time period.  This was not shaped that way.  It was more rectangular, though it did have a chancel and a few other traditional features.  

To be honest, the only thing I care to recount was one brief scene with three features.  The features were a Book of Common Prayer (the only way I could be positive it was Anglican), Incense, and the small but professional choir.  I mean professional because they literally hired people who likely have no religious affiliation whatsoever to come sing for them.

The building is built at an angle that it streams the morning sunlight through high windows which illuminate various biblical scenes on the wall opposite.  I didn't notice it at first.  I came in, sat in a pew, and began reading the Book of Common Prayer.  It's a pretty little red book filled with verses and hymns and prayers that, at a glance, seemed appropriate.  I don't know the history of the work, but I know it's old.  

As I sat there reading it, a fellow in all sorts of robes and raiments began to walk in from the back holding that incense ball and chain, swooshing it back and forth.  I had only seen this on tv before and hadn't expected to see it here.  I got pretty excited.  As he walked slowly forward the smoke spilled out like a streamer that, instead of whipping back, just hung suspended in the air.  Tight like smoke near a chimney it would then expand, wafting apart.  I guess swinging it fanned its embers because as he walked along, the thing started belching the stuff out like a smokestack.  I thought the kid must have been new, because by the time he finall got to the front, I could hardly see the altar. 

Had I come late, which I do too often, I would have been very impressed by the old British stoicism and their piety, seeing a room of stalwart Brits dutifully attending service while their building (and them inside!) were consumed by a fire a' la 1666.  But slowly, it formed a cloud above our heads. 

Then it looked gorgeous.  With the incense you could see these columns of diagonal gold morning-light pour through the smoke.  The sweet, delicious smell of the incense mingled with the sight of the light, so that you imagined you were smelling dawn.

Oh, I also forgot to mention that during this whole process, the very excellent choir was singing some beautiful old-sounding music.  I'm sad to call it "old-sounding" but I'm too ignorant to know any better.

Anyhow, it was beautiful.  And no matter how distorted their theology, there was a grain of God's love and beauty in that scene.  Sad theology though.  Sad, sad congregation.

"We were put into our bodies, as fire is put into a pan to be carried about"

-Emerson

It isn't accurate.  Nonetheless, I think it's a beautiful expression of the Holy Spirit, should you replace "we were" with "He is."  

By the way, here are links to pictures of St. Augustine of Canterbury:

An old picture that I think better captures the feel of the place- its oldness.

And a link to modern pictures of the sanctuary that the congregation posted from their pathetically bad website.  I should warn you that the pictures are horribly taken.  Like they took them while jogging. also the site is slow.