Musings on Christianity and Church

BBC Radio Jersey is asking the question: "Can you be a Christian without reading the Bible or going to Church?" The answer, of course, is obviously that you can be. The real question is: would you want to be?

If you are marooned on a Desert Island, and don't have the advantages of the delightful Kirsty Young to provide you with your favourite music, a luxury, the complete works of Shakespeare and the Bible, then you can't read the Bible or go to Church. You may be a Christian nonetheless. After all, the term "Christian" means a follower of Christ, and I would have thought that it would be possible to reflect on those parts of the Bible that you did know, and pray, even on a desert island.

Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe is not in fact a Christian, or even religious, when he is stranded on a desert island, although in the world he came from he may have participated in religious observances as a matter of form. He does, however, have a Bible, which is more or less the only thing he has to read, and in reading it, he becomes a Christian who thanks God for saving him, and providing for him, where he has everything he needs but the society of other human beings. His spiritual journey comes about not through listening to sermons in a church but through spending time alone amongst nature with only a Bible to read.

But some men and women in the past have chosen a solitary lifestyle as hermits. They are Christians, but quite obviously did not go to church. One of the most well known is probably St Simeon Stylites (390 - 459 AD). He was a Christian hermit who achieved fame by living for 39 years on a small platform on top of a pillar near Aleppo in Syria. He didn't go to church in that time, either. Edward Gibbon in his History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire describes Simeon's existence as follows:

In this last and lofty station, the Syrian Anachoret resisted the heat of thirty summers, and the cold of as many winters. Habit and exercise instructed him to maintain his dangerous situation without fear or giddiness, and successively to assume the different postures of devotion. He sometimes prayed in an erect attitude, with his outstretched arms in the figure of a cross, but his most familiar practice was that of bending his meagre skeleton from the forehead to the feet; and a curious spectator, after numbering twelve hundred and forty- four repetitions, at length desisted from the endless account. The progress of an ulcer in his thigh might shorten, but it could not disturb, this celestial life; and the patient Hermit expired, without descending from his column

But while this was a solitary existence, he was reading and writing; he had provisions and writing materials lifted up to him, and taken down. Some of those preached against profanity and usury; one imagines he would have sharp words to say to the bankers in today's society. So it is almost certain he would have read the Bible. He seems to have been very forceful in his words, and quite fanatical about his faith as well, and although the crowds came to see and listen to him as a holy man, I'm not sure that he was necessarily a good man. Crowds, after all, do listen to religious fanatics, as we have seen in recent history. The Ayatollah Khomeini was seen by many as a holy man, but he was harsh, fanatic, judgmental and quite willing to call for the assassination of Salman Rushdie. While Stylites never called for anyone to take up weapons, there is an anti-Semitic streak in his letters which is quite unpleasant:

Because in the pride of your heart you have forgotten the Lord your God, who gave you the crown of majesty and the royal throne, and have become a friend and comrade and abettor of the unbelieving Jews; know that of a sudden the righteous judgment of God will overtake you and all those 'who are of one mind with you in this matter. Then you will lift up your hands to heaven, and say in your distress, Of a truth because I dealt falsely with the Lord God this punishment has come upon me."

Other solitaries, however, have been less fanatic. Richard Rolle and Julian of Norwich, for example, were English mystics whose existence was solitary, but who did not have quite the same kind of zeal as a Stylites. Nevertheless, because they had withdrawn from the world and the church, they could be critical of both. Rolle, for example, is quite severe in his strictures against the love of money, and the piling up of wealth, as a distraction which takes people away from God.

Truly turning from these goods that in this world deceive their lovers and defend them nought, stands in want of fleshly desire, and hatred of all wickedness; so that they savour not earthly things, nor desire to hold to worldly things beyond their strait need. For they truly that heap riches and know not for whom they gather, having their solace in them, are not worthy to be sometimes gladdened in the mirth of heavenly love; although they seem by devotion, not holy but simulated, to feel in their diseases something of that felicity which is to come. For truly for their foul presumption they have fallen from that sweetness with which God's lovers are softened and made sweet because they have unmannerly loved worldly money.

The wicked truly are alway greedy after vile delectations, and as dead unto ghostly exercises; or else cast down with full great feebleness: whose love is ever inordinate; for they love temporal goods more than eternal, and their bodies more than their souls.

Of course what modern people - who don't want the Bible or the Church, but want to call themselves Christians - are after is hardly the uncomfortable existence of a religious ascetic devoted to prayer and meditation, or even the weekly commitment of a churchgoer. They want the comfortable lifestyle, perhaps dropping the odd crumb into a charitable donation, but to all intents and purposes to lead a secular life. They want the church to be there for christenings, for weddings and for funerals, but for the rest of the time, they are not really that bothered.

I suspect that deep down, there is a kind of folk-faith, of half-remembered childhood Christianity from school days, and that is part and parcel of this taking upon themselves a label of Christian. Does it matter? Some Christians get extremely fervent about those who don't read the Bible or go to Church, and label them "nominal Christians".

But the hypocrisy can be on the other side. People who do read the Bible and go to church, can be unforgiving and judgmental, like the blacksmith in Chesterton's Father Brown story "The Hammer of God":

Is Colonel Bohun dead?' said the smith quite calmly. 'Then he's damned.'
'Don't say anything! Oh, don't say anything,' cried the atheist cobbler, dancing about in an ecstasy of admiration of the English legal system. For no man is such a legalist as the good Secularist.
The blacksmith turned on him over his shoulder the august face of a fanatic.
'It's well for you infidels to dodge like foxes because the world's law favours you,' he said; 'but God guards His own in His pocket, as you shall see this day.'
Then he pointed to the colonel and said: 'When did this dog die in his sins?'
'Moderate your language,' said the doctor.
'Moderate the Bible's language, and I'll moderate mine. When did he die?'
'I saw him alive at six o'clock this morning,' stammered Wilfred Bohun.
'God is good,' said the smith.
'There are two men standing outside this shop,' went on the blacksmith with ponderous lucidity, 'good tradesmen in Greenford whom you all know, who will swear that they saw me from before midnight till daybreak and long after in the committee room of our Revival Mission, which sits all night, we save souls so fast. In Greenford itself twenty people could swear to me for all that time. If I were a heathen, Mr. Inspector, I would let you walk on to your downfall. But as a Christian man I feel bound to give you your chance, and ask you whether you will hear my alibi now or in court.'

Father Brown later comments on this kind of Christianity:

Look at that blacksmith, for instance,' went on Father Brown calmly; 'a good man, but not a Christian -- hard, imperious, unforgiving. Well, his Scotch religion was made up by men who prayed on hills and high crags, and learnt to look down on the world more than to look up at heaven. Humility is the mother of giants. One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak.'

And a real case in point is in an autobiography I was reading of Dick Van Dyke, who was a Christian (although he didn't make a great show of it), and was for many years an elder in a Presbyterian Church. This is the kind of behaviour from Christians in Churches that drives people away:

One of the elders suggested inviting the congregation from a black church from the inner city to our church and, ideally, they would invite us to
theirs. I thought it was a great idea, right on target. It sounded like something that would have come from Charlie, who preached the best possible way, by example. The things he did the other six days of the week were far more inspirational than anything he said on the seventh day in church, which was also pretty good. "Black families, white families, people in general - we look at each other like strangers," I said. "But I think we have much more in common than any of us realize. We sit in our churches on Sundays, we read from the same book, we pray to the same God, we want the same thing, which is to feel loved, not hated. What if we got to know each other through an exchange program?" The idea did not go over well. One of the elders emphatically stated that he did not want any black people in the church. Appalled, I stood up, shared my disgust, grabbed my jacket, and walked out. I never went back there or to any other church. My relationship with God was solid, but the hypocrisy among the so-called faithful finished me for good.

Even where there is not this attitude, the Church can seem to be restrictive to outsiders, telling people that they can't share in the bread and wine of the Lord's Supper, Communion, Eucharist (the names vary) unless the participant is part of the holy circle, either as a baptised Christian, or a confirmed Christian, or only a member of that particular denomination.

The theologian Jurgen Moltmann takes issue with that practice, and suggests that the celebration should be open to all who want to come, with no artificial barriers put in their way:

Where does Jesus' feast belong? On the streets of the poor who follow Jesus, or in the church of the baptized, the confirmed and established? I decided for the feast that is open to all, and to which the weary and heavy-laden are invited. Baptism on the other hand, should be reserved for believers. That certainly contradicts the practice of our mainline churches, but it is in conformity with Jesus according to the Synoptic Gospels. Jesus' Supper is not a church meal for people who belong to one's own denomination. It is the feast of the crucified Christ, whose hands are stretched out to everyone.

Temperance

Temperance

The eldila shines in angelic form

In harmony, it does conform

Pouring living water from one chalice

into another, thesis and antithesis

with one foot on earth, one on water

This is temperance in alternator

That combines and harmonises all

Mind and matter entwines install

Balance rises upon its wings

This the angel voice now sings

But unsmiling, controlled in poise

Temperance, but here no joys.

Which

One of my favourite American writers, as readers of this blog are aware, is the American humorist James Thurber  (1894 - 1961). In this piece, which is from The New Yorker (1929), he looks at the English language, and the little word "which", which as he points out, can cause all kinds of problems which writers struggle to resolve.

It is a wonderful little piece, which appears at the start to be one of those faddish monologues on correct use of language, the sort of thing you'd find in "Eats, Shoots & Leaves". But it is actually sending up the whole genre of those patronising people who "know" what is "correct" use of English and want to dictate to other people how to write. If you come across any of their irritating ilk, give them Thurber to read as an antidote.

Which by James Thurber

The relative pronoun "which" can cause more trouble than any other word, if recklessly used. Foolhardy persons sometimes get lost in which-clauses and are never heard of again.

My distinguished contemporary, Fowler, cites several tragic cases, of which the following is one: "It was rumored that Beaconsfield intended opening the Conference with a speech in French, his pronunciation of which language leaving everything to be desired . . ." That's as much as Mr. Fowler quotes because, at his age, he was afraid to go any farther. The young man who originally got into that sentence was never found.

His fate, however, was not as terrible as that of another adventurer who became involved in a remarkable which-mire. Fowler has followed his devious course as far as he safely could on foot: "Surely what applies to games should also apply to racing, the leaders of which being the very people from whom an example might well be looked for . . ." Not even Henry James could have successfully emerged from a sentence with "which," "whom," and "being" in it.

The safest way to avoid such things is to follow in the path of the American author, Ernest Hemingway. In his youth he was trapped in a which-clause one time and barely escaped with his mind. He was going along on solid ground until he got into this: "It was the one thing of which, being very much afraid--for whom has not been warned to fear such things--he . . ."

Being a young and powerfully built man, Hemingway was able to fight his way back to where he had started, and begin again. This time he skirted the treacherous morass in this way: "He was afraid of one thing. This was the one thing. He had been warned to fear such things: Everybody has been warned to fear such things." Today Hemingway is alive and well, and many happy writers are following along the trail he blazed.

What most people don't realize is that one "which" leads to another. Trying to cross a paragraph by leaping from "which" to "which" is like Eliza crossing the ice. The danger is in missing a "which" and falling in. A case in point is this: "He went up to a pew which was in the gallery, which brought him under a colored window which he loved and always quieted his spirit."

The writer, worn out, missed the last "which"--the one that should come just before "always" in that sentence. But supposing he had got it in! We would have: "He went up to a pew which was in the gallery, which brought him under a colored window which he loved and which always quieted his spirit." Your inveterate whicher in this way gives the effect of tweeting like a bird or walking with a crutch, and is not welcome in the best company.

It is well to remember that one "which" leads to two and that two "whiches" multiply like rabbits. You should never start out with the idea that you can get by with one "which." Suddenly they are all around you. Take a sentence like this: "It imposes a problem which we either solve, or perish."

On a hot night, or after a hard day's work, a man often lets himself get by with a monstrosity like that, but suppose he dictates that sentence bright and early in the morning. It comes to him typed out by his stenographer and he instantly senses that something is the matter with it. He tries to reconstruct the sentence, still clinging to the "which," and gets something like this: "It imposes a problem which we either solve, or which, failing to solve, we must perish on account of." He goes to the water-cooler, gets a drink, sharpens his pencil, and grimly tries again. "It imposes a problem which we either solve or which we don't solve . . ." He begins once more: "It imposes a problem which we either solve, or which we do not solve, and from which . . ." The more times he does it the more "whiches" he gets.

The way out is simple: "We must either solve this problem, or perish." Never monkey with "which." Nothing except getting tangled up in a typewriter ribbon is worse.

The Jade Horse with the Diamond Eyes

Here is a another short story from Annie Parmeter, written when she was 12 at Moorestown College, St Peter.

The Jade Horse with the Diamond Eyes
by Annie Parmeter
 
Li Ting Po sat patiently carving a beautiful piece of jade. Skillfully he fashioned the shape of a beautiful horse, and with each stroke of his implement, he incised a spell into the carving.
 
Lovingly he fitted its diamond eyes. This was to be his masterpiece, specially commissioned by the Emperor Tseen-Kang.
 
Li Ting Po was seeking revenge on the avaricious Tseen-Kang because this Emperor had confiscated his farms to change into part of the Imperial gardens. The spell of the horse would be his revenge on the Emperor.
 
The horse was to be presented to the Emperor, and Li Ting Po carried it carefully into the Hall of Audience. The Hall of Audience was a vast marble construction with a gold roof inlaid with precious stones. The Emperor's throne was made of rose quartz and gilded wood, his magnificent robes were of multicoloured silks, embroidered with exquisite patterns and scenes.
 
Li Ting smiled inscrutably as he presented his masterpiece to the ever treasure-hungry Tseen Kang. The Emperor was greatly pleased with this wonderful work of art.
 
Then the Emperor ordered the carving to be placed in his bedroom.
 
The following morning, the Emperor was found dead, in his bed, and a blinding ray of light seemed to come from the eyes of the horse; while on the wall was written "those who own me, shall never live to see" - meaning that those who own the horse will be blinded with such pain that it would kill.
 
Tseen-Kang was buried in the family vault at the Temple of the Thundering Winds. Li Ting Po, still smiling inscrutably, called at the tomb to pay his last respects.
 
 

Don't ruin a body that was to give everyone a voice to be heard

Once again, Deputy Wimberley's letters are missing from the JEP online version, so if you don't get the JEP, here's a place to read them. Online space is cheap compared to print, so why are some letters chosen and others not - there seems to be no rhyme or reason outside of the editor's own bias.

This letter is on States Reform. We hear a lot about Senator Bailhache being elected on a "platform of reform", and therefore being the person most suited to lead the task. This is a new argument, as when Senator Vernon Tomes entered the States, also on a platform of reform, he was sidelined to the back benches until he had given up on the idea. The same is true of Stuart Syvret, Ted Vibert, and going back in time, for those of us with long memories, John de Carteret.

Time and again we have been told that just because the public places someone on top of the poll, that gives them no special privileges or legitimacy. That is something which has been singularly lacking on the debate about Senator Bailhache's suitability, and instead, we are told that as a poll-topper, he has a special mandate to do this which should be complied with by the States.

Moreoever, the policy of reversing decisions recently past and changing the terms of reference of the review surely opens up a whole can of worms. If a precedent is set that decisions by the previous States, passed less than six months previously, can be put asunder, what is to stop re-opening the debate about spending cuts, especially the draconian measures taken and approved with regards to sports in Jersey?

As Senator Bailhache is the first to admit, he has expressed opinions. He argues that does not commit him to a particular position. But surely an independent commission would remove all shadow of doubt on that score, so that he would be free to make his own submission, with no perceived conflict of interest?

Don't ruin a body that was to give everyone a voice to be heard.
From Daniel Wimberley.

THE version of the Electoral Commission put forward by the Privileges and Procedures Committee is a complete and utter mockery of the original proposal passed by the States.

Deputy Le Hérissier amendments, though welcome, do not go far enough. The question now is: can the commission be saved?

The commission was there to serve Islanders. Its job was to make democracy better in Jersey, to give fair representation to all (at the moment, the country is vastly over-represented and the urban areas are under-represented), to try to reflect shades of public opinion accurately in the States (which our first-past-the-post voting system fails to do), to allow voters to influence who gets to be in government, and thus to improve accountability and get away from the appalling mantra of 'I don't vote, it does not make any difference.'

The commission was to be independent and was to look at all the issues in the round before coming up with a package to be put to a referendum.

The commission would lead a debate across the Island on the issues. External experts would ensure that the process was kept free from bias, and give advice on technical issues. All perfectly straightforward - All perfectly fair. The Island gets what it needs at a cost, incidentally, of less than 4p for each resident for each of the 50 years the new elections system should last.

So what do Privileges do? They butcher the proposals. In so doing, they appear to put vested interests above the public interest, and they put at risk the reputation of the States itself.

Privilege's proposals are extraordinary. They want to put three States Members onto the commission, one of these being the chairman, to remove any external oversight of the process and to cut out half of the terms of reference.

In doing so, they have destroyed the commission's independence, they have ensured that the public will mistrust the results, and they have made its job impossible.

To his credit, Deputy Le Hérissier amendment tries to undo the damage. It would remove the politicians from the electoral Commission and restore the terms of reference. This is good as far as it goes, but it does not go far enough. It does not tackle the removal of outside expertise, and this is the real prize for those who are intent on killing off the commission.

Outside expertise is vital. Last year Privileges correctly pointed out the danger of any commission with an all- local lineup: 'This option has the disadvantage that the local members may all come with predetermined positions and it may be difficult to identify local residents who would have the necessary interest and expertise in this subject without bringing strong preconceived ideas about the way forward.'

There is nothing wrong in this, but it does point out the need for checks and balances, for external eyes. Our police, social services and the prison are inspected from outside, and we get outside advice on our fiscal policy. And all for very sound reasons: to ensure impartiality, transparency and best practice.

The outside experts should not sit on the commission itself, but form an independent advisory panel. This cuts out the expense of travelling and accommodation, adds flexibility and opens up a bigger pool of expertise for us to choose from.

Each major step of the commission's work, for example, the overall outline plan for public consultation, or their initial statement as to what the issues are, should go to the panel for comment.

This comment would be in writing, open and public.

The response of the commissioners, accepting or rejecting that advice and giving their reasons, would likewise be in writing, open and public. Any technical advice would also be on the record. This transparent external quality assurance is the people's guarantee that the process is not being manipulated in any way.

Anyone looking at this episode from outside the Island, (which may very well happen, given the great interest in tax havens and offshore finance centres these days) would quickly conclude that the establishment has been trying to rig the process of reform for their own advantage. This must not be allowed to happen, for the sake of democracy and for the sake of our reputation.

I hope that a States Member proposes a further amendment to ensure that the process has independent outside scrutiny and technical advice. Nothing less is good enough for a commission whose work will set the framework for our democracy for the next 50 years.

Valentine Memories

In memory of Annie...

Valentine Memories
 
Do people think "Even now, after all this time?"
Yes, even now, for those moments were sublime;
I cannot forget, and even that moment at the end,
When you were still and cold, my lover, my friend,
And I kissed you one last time, cold lips on mine,
The passion remained. You drunk of the dark wine
And were lost to me, in pain, and grief, and tears;
But the memories remain, despite all my fears
Of forgetting, of fading away, all passion spent
I don't hold on, or try to keep alive, in cement
Those times of joy and sorrow. But as a gift
I have moments of epiphany, when that deep rift
Between the living and the dead is suddenly no more,
And it is almost like the opening of a bolted door;
I see you again in my minds eye, feel your touch;
Is it possible to love someone so strongly, so much?
As I see the couples walking on the beach, hand in hand
I see that time trickles away from us, like grains of sand
You were lost to me only yesterday, but at times I know
It feels as if you were lost so very, very long ago.

Prayers in the States

We are survival machines - robot vehicles blindly programmed to preserve the selfish molecules known as genes. . . . They swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots . . . they are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence. (Richard Dawkins)

A man has got as much right to employ in his speech the established and traditional facts of human history as he has to employ any other piece of common human information. And it is as reasonable for a man who knows no French to assume that Villon was a good poet as it would be for a man who has no ear for music to assume that Beethoven was a good musician. Because he himself has no ear for music, that is no reason why he should assume that the human race has no ear for music. (G.K. Chesterton)

Our politicians say them in French at the start of every States sitting, but after a High Court judge ruled prayers at council meetings unlawful, should they be removed from the States chamber too?

Recently I heard on the radio, Dr Reg Le Sueur, a humanist, argue that the prayers should be removed as irrational and irrelevant, as nonsense. He thinks prayers have a place, in Church, but not in a modern secular democracy.

A strange inconsistency is that prayers with mention of God precede the States, but even an expression like "godforsaken", which is quite acceptable in the UK Parliament, is forbidden in States debates, and when last used, brought a stern rebuke by the Bailiff to the offender!

But this is part and parcel of the "keep religion out of politics" - members cannot refer to other members beliefs, even if it is patently obvious, as in debates on abortion or homosexuality, that the hidden reasons stem from those beliefs. As a result, debates on such matters seem curiously lop-sided, as spurious arguments are thrown up in place of real arguments.

But Dr Le Sueur has a very strange idea of what is irrational or irrelevant. It seems to come down to what he thinks is irrational or irrelevant. He is the "rational man", and he can see what is rational and what is not.

Does he celebrate his birthday? If married, does he give her a red rose on Valentine's day? These - like States prayers - are not really rational, but we are human beings, not machines, and we need legacies of the past to remind us of that. Romance is not rational, prayers may not be rational, but neither may be irrelevant. Does Dr Le Sueur ever whistle as he walks, or is he too rational for that?

Mary Midgley in "Beast and Man: The Roots of Human Nature" argues that we must be very careful in how we understand rationality, and the interplay between reasoning and emotions:

It includes a definite structure of preferences, a priority system based on feeling. Now that kind of structure is not peculiar to the human race, but is also found in the higher animals.

So to say something is "rational" in the way that Dr Le Sueur does is to make value judgements about it, from his own vantage point, and priorities some feelings he has about how the world should be ordered. It is not something that could be derived as a kind of bare mathematical proof, which would be true regardless of who was considering it.

If you read the literature of the 18th century, instead of "rationality", we have "Reason", invariably with a capital "R" and often as the subject of a sentence. "Reason says....". As Midgley remarks:

"Reason" is not the name of a character in a drama. It is a name for organizing oneself. When there is a conflict, one desire must be restrained to make way for the other. It is the process of choosing which that is rightly called reasoning.

And she says the mode of thinking which uses "rationality" or "reason" as an argument is in fact part of a way of thinking and not as transparent or obvious as the user might think. This she says is an "essentially colonial picture"

in which an imported governor, named Reason, imposes order on a chaotic alien tribe of Passions or Instincts. The colonial picture, which is Plato's, was handed down through the Stoics, Descartes and Spinoza, to Kant.

She contrasts that with "Bishop Butler's (and to some extent Aristotle's) picture, to talk of what Butler called 'the whole system, as I may speak, of affections, including rationality, which constitute the Heart.', and argues that we must regard reason as "growing out of and completing a natural balance of parts"

Chesterton, too, talked about the imbalance in reason, and sees this as a a distortion of the natural balance, where the

explanation of a thing is always complete, and often in a purely rational sense satisfactory. Nevertheless he is wrong.  But if we attempt to trace his error in exact terms, we shall not find it quite so easy as we had supposed.  Perhaps the nearest we can get to expressing it is to say this: that his mind moves in a perfect but narrow circle.  A small circle is quite as infinite as a large circle; but, though it is quite as infinite, it is not so large.  In the same way the insane explanation is quite as complete as the sane one, but it is not so large.  A bullet is quite as round as the world, but it is not the world....He is in the clean and well-lit prison of one idea:  he is sharpened to one painful point.  He is without healthy hesitation and healthy complexity.

Midgley comments that:

Obsessiveness unbalances people's tastes against biological advantage. In no species do instincts form a perfectly balanced, infallible set, a smooth machine, such as human envy supposes animals to have.

and she returns to Bishop Butler:

Reason alone, whatever anyone may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man; but this reason joined with those affections which God has impressed upon his heart.. Neither is affection itself at all a weakness; nor does it argue defect, any otherwise than our senses and appetites do.. Both our senses and our passions are a supply to the imperfections of our nature.. But it is not the supply, but the deficiency, as it is not a remedy, but the disease, which is the imperfection. (Bishop Butler)

Should there be prayers before the States begin? And in French, which may not even be understood by some States members? Seen as part of an irrational continuity with the past, perhaps they could be considered dispensable. But they harm no one, and they can also be seen as part of an emotional continuity with the past, that countless Jerseymen have sat in that Chamber, and heard those words.

We tamper with the fine tapestry of the past at our peril. There may be occasions where it is threadbare, where it actually causes harm, and needs repair with modern work, but at other times, if we pull that tapestry apart, we will never put it together. There will be a loss, not a loss that can be quantified and weighed, any more than one can quantify and weigh a piece of sublime music.

Pride is unlucky. And it was in insolence and contempt that you set yourself to trample on the traditions or the follies of humbler men; so that you have come to trample on a holier thing at last.

References
Beast and Man: The Roots of Human Nature. Mary Midgley, 2002
Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton
The Poet and the Lunatics, G.K. Chesterton
Fifteen Sermons Preached at the Rolls Chapel by Joseph Butler

Picture Postcard Jesus

"It's about all the Christian charity you'll ever get out of these priests," cried Cockspur bitterly. "That's their only idea of pardoning a poor fellow for a piece of folly; to wall him up alive and starve him to death with fasts and penances and pictures of hell-fire. And all because a bullet went wrong."

"Really, Father Brown," said General Outram, "do you honestly think he deserves this? Is that your Christianity?"

"Surely the true Christianity," pleaded his wife more gently, "is that which knows all and pardons all; the love that can remember - and forget."

(The Wisdom of Father Brown, G.K. Chesterton)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously said "Who is Jesus Christ for us today?", and the popular imagination has constructed a kind of "folk Jesus" who answers that question. This is the Jesus painted as a goodly child by the Victorian hymns:

Christian children all must be
Mild, obedient, good as He.

The cattle are lowing
The poor Baby wakes
But little Lord Jesus
No crying He makes

What is notable about this portrayal of Jesus is that people are all to ready to tell you "what Jesus said", which often turns out in practice to be what they think, and by a remarkable coincidence, is in agreement with Jesus. As Richard Robinson, author of "An Atheist's Values"(1975), puts it: "Jesus never recommended anything which we think bad".

The opening passage, a quotation from a Father Brown story, illustrates this well. Lady Outram has her own idea of the "true Christianity", and it is very much her own picture of what Christianity should be about; Christianity with all the hard edges smoothed away.

Robinson illustrates his own thesis by takes the example of the saying of Jesus about thrift and worry for tomorrow:

Then Jesus said to the disciples, "And so I tell you not to worry about the food you need to stay alive or about the clothes you need for your body. Life is much more important than food, and the body much more important than clothes. Look at the crows: they don't plant seeds or gather a harvest; they don't have storage rooms or barns; God feeds them! You are worth so much more than birds! Can any of you live a bit longer by worrying about it? If you can't manage even such a small thing, why worry about the other things? Look how the wild flowers grow: they don't work or make clothes for themselves. But I tell you that not even King Solomon with all his wealth had clothes as beautiful as one of these flowers. It is God who clothes the wild grass---grass that is here today and gone tomorrow, burned up in the oven. Won't he be all the more sure to clothe you? What little faith you have!
(Luke 12:22-28)

And he cites a Commentary by Dr Longsdale Ragg which shies away from the sense and say that "it cannot really be intended as a a counsel of improvidence". Robinson says: "It is obvious what reason he had in his mind: he was saying to himself: 'Improvidence is bad, and Jesus never recommended anything bad; therefore he never recommended improvidence; therefore this passage is not really a recommendation of improvidence though it seems to be."

Robinson notes that: "in interpreting the gospels so that they always agreed with our valuations, we should be teaching Jesus rather than learning from him"

And this is precisely what the "picture postcard Jesus" does. It is not a historical portrait of Jesus; it is a religious or spiritual portrait of Jesus. So it softens or tones down anything that doesn't fit, because the abiding principle is that Jesus cannot be wrong. This is at the heart of the problem: a belief about Jesus can present a barrier to understanding Jesus historically.

But this is not a problem that is wholly related to Jesus. The rise of "New Age" Spirituality and NeoPagan beliefs have the same kind of conundrum.

Owen Davies in his book on Paganism (2012) makes a quite valid differentiation between the Ancient Paganism, and its modern reconstructions. There are similarities, but also differences that are quite notable: ritual sacrifice of animals is not widespread today, and post-70 AD, Judaism also has no blood sacrifice. The stench of blood would be something that we would quite repellent, and the temples would stink as strongly of that as any abattoir. In a way, it would be like having a religious ceremonial ritual in an abattoir. But to the people of that time, the smell of blood from slaughtered animals would be part of the experience, and something beautiful.

Also different is the kind of idol worship, with the construction of carved emblems of deity in stone and wood to prostate oneself before which were so common in the Ancient Paganism. While symbols such as Artor the Great Bear, Epona etc may feature in modern Pagan rituals, they are not seen as aspects of mighty forces to be placated with votive offerings lest the gods become angry and destroy the harvest.

So the mismatch between the ancient and modern is not unique to Christianity, because those elements of Ancient Paganism that people find unpleasant are often also forgotten or dismissed as those parts which historically conditioned by their time. There is a "picture postcard Modern Paganism" as well.

How do we deal with difficult passages in the gospels? For believers, it is very difficult to say "if Jesus intended to say that, and it is reported correctly, then I think he was wrong."

Another other option is to take the road of literal exactness, and to conform one's life to what one thinks one reads in the gospel passages. Here is a path which fundamentalists take, where intolerance and bigotry is not seen as such, because it has a religious justification. Not many Christians go as far as the Puritans in Cromwell's Protectorate, where one Puritan, a Mr Barbon, was named "Jesus-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Wouldst-Be-Damned Barbon", but the attitude beneath the surface is the same.

[Incidentally, on the restoration of Charles II, he sensibly renamed himself Nicholas Barbon (d. 1698)!]

But should we take - as Robinson does, and the commentary he cites does - everything that Jesus said as precepts to follow? Give the oblique and strange nature of the sayings, perhaps this is more akin to a Zen saying, something intended to provoke thought, rather than a precept for living.

There is a strong tendency to read the gospels as a set of precepts for living, no doubt because of the dominant effect of the "Sermon on the Mount", and perhaps Jesus just threw out statements to challenge preconceptions, to make people think. Certainly, there is evidence that his own ministry, though itinerant, was supported by wealthy patronage, and it would have been rather hypocritical to bite the hand that was feeding him.

But there are other passages which are not so easy to understand or accept:

And if some home or town will not welcome you or listen to you, then leave that place and shake the dust off your feet. I assure you that on the Judgment Day God will show more mercy to the people of Sodom and Gomorrah than to the people of that town! (Matthew 10:14-15)

Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; whoever does not believe will be condemned. (Mark 16:16)

What are we to make of these? I'm not providing any answers, but these are the questions that have to be considered if we are to answer Bonhoeffer's question, and I would pose this question: for Christians, can they be understood outside of the Picture Postcard Picture of Jesus, or apart from the Fundamentalist response?

Death

Death

The black knight rides upon the field slowly on

Beneath the visor, the sightless sockets here upon

Gaze from a skull, the bony hands hold the reigns

As it moves relentlessly over all remains

The king has fallen beneath his deadly pace

For none can live and see him face to face

The child is cowed on bended knee

For there is no escape, no place to flee

Black armour on a white charger moving here

The maiden falls, turns away her face in fear

He clasps the banner signed with mystic rose

A sight of final ending now bestows

And now the Bishop prays, awaits his end

For there is no halting, no way to defend

Transit moving over all the earth

Only in the distant sun, rebirth.

Funny Old World 12

Health Warning: what follows is not news, any more than the middle section of Private Eye is news, or The Impressionist is news, or Spitting Image was news. It is a light hearted spin on the real news, which can be found on genuine news sites, such as BBC Jersey. Other news sites are available. This is not one of them. None of the individuals mentioned have ever said anything quite like the words attributed to them. Which is perhaps a pity.

There has been a rise in complaints about Jersey Police. There was a rise in the number of objections to the excessive use of punk, reggae, and jazz which the public are forced to watch. "It's harassment and abuse of authority." said Pierre La Cloche from St Saviours, who was himself involved in a tribute band, "The Honorary Police" until recently

The States' old-age pension pot will be drained within 30 years, according to a new report by the UK government's pension experts. The actuary's report said that part of the problem was that more and more people were living longer, and gobbling down the Jersey Pension bean crock. Jersey is not the only jurisdiction having trouble with a pension pot. Apparently, with mounting debt and the euro crisis, the Republic of Ireland is getting into a bit of an Irish stew over it.

New rule to encourage repatriation of pensioners. Foreign pensioners will be given free Irish stew under planned new rules aimed to encourage them to apply to transfer back home. With a Pensioner Repatriation Law expected to receive Privy Council assent this month, Home Affairs Minister Ian Le Marquand wants to change the rules so that pensioners eating into Jersey's pension pot can be sent back to the jurisdictions in which they were born.

A new sewage plant could cost as much as four times the estimate provided by the Transport department, the Environment Minister has warned. Deputy Rob Duhamel said that "'We need the best available technology to deal with our liquid waste, rather than getting rid of the existing type of plant and replacing it with old-fashioned technology". The original Sewage plant cost Six Million Dollars, and was constructed under the management of engineer B. Day of Boggs and Co, who was nicknamed the Six Million Dollar Sewage Plant Man."

Deputy Duhamel said that "The Six Million Dollar Sewage Plant may have been state of the art in the 1970s, when it was constructed, but today we are looking at a Two Hundred And Fifty Million Dollar Sewage Plant. Gentlemen, we have the technology. We can rebuild it.". However, critics have pooh poohed his idea, and said it would be a waste, even if tax critics from ATTAC say it could be paid for by recycling slush funds.

A number of Iron Age coins including some thought to be Roman have been found in a field in Jersey by two men using metal detectors. Mr A. Digger and Mr D. Tector started searching for the coins 30 years ago.

The 60 silver and one gold coin are thought to have come from a small village around 50 BC where one Gaulish tribe was still resisting Julius Caesar's conquest of Gaul. The coins bear the head of the Gaulish Chief Vitalstatistix, and on the reverse a druid's face is visible with a cauldron of potion. It is thought they may relate to a manuscript lost in the dark ages, which was entitled "Asterix in the Channel islands".

MoT-style vehicle safety tests are likely to be introduced in Jersey in the next few years. Jersey's Transport and Technical Services Minister said the pressure to change the rules would come from outside the island. He said that change was likely to come in the future: "As things stand, you could go to the UK with a complete wreck and cause an accident. Or you could leave your mother in law behind and take your car instead."

MoT or Mother in law Testing was pioneered in the UK by Les Dawson.

The National Trust for Jersey is against plans to develop a house at Petit Port in St Brelade into apartments, claiming it would affect views on all sides. But the architect said he did not think it would spoil the area at all. He said: "I believe it will be a big improvement, the existing buildings on the site are by no means great pieces of architecture, so anything will be an improvement, and this will certainly be a whole lot bigger!"

The Dean of Jersey will represent the Channel Islands at a meeting of the Church of England's ruling body this week to discuss plans to introduce women bishops. Those with more "traditional views" in Jersey believe that the Bible "dictates" that women should not hold such power and question whether a woman should be allowed to ordain male bishops and priests. They've got a new hymn, specially written to voice their protest and hold up "traditional views" on women:

Onward, Women Bishops, let's open up the door
Not in backwater Jersey, the status as before
The water is too cold, for dipping in the toe
Once more, vote against, once more banning go

At the sign of triumph, some clergy will flee
Jersey holding out now, against a victory
Lovely little backwater, all set in our ways
Brothers, lift your voices, loud your protests raise.

Like a mighty tortoise moves the church of God;
Marching different ways, step on toes they trod
We are all divided, all one conflict we,
And if it is passed, some of us will flee

Crowns and thrones may perish, kingdoms rise and wane,
But change in Jersey, comes slowly, more in vain
Women bishops here will surely not prevail
We have our Clergy's promise, and that cannot fail.

Onward then, ye people, join our happy throng,
Women bishops, whatever next, bikinis and a thong?
Women just for marriage, for putting on the ring
This through countless ages men and bigots sing.

A Game of Chance, Call the Midwives

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Chance is a brilliant film, cleverly lifting the odd line verbatim from the books, Robert Downey does a very good and very different period Holmes, lots of humour and some big panoramic vistas. He maps out fight sequences in his head, calculating moves, before it actually takes place.

We forget that Holmes, in the original stories, is not above fighting, and indeed in "The Final Problem" we know that is how he survived. Although he is often presented as handy with his fists, pugilism is not his only fighting technique. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was aware of Bartitsu, and puts it in one story. So the idea of martial arts being used by Holmes is not as far fetched as the critics make out; they probably are not careful devotees of the original stories.

 

Bartitsu was a kind of martial art system originally developed in England during the years 1898-1902 by Edward William Barton-Wright, which he said combined the best elements of a range of fighting styles into a unified whole. The name was a mixture of  his own surname "Barton-Wright" and  "Jujitsu", hence "Bart-itstu "

It is mentioned, or more exactly, misspelt and mentioned in "The Empty House", the first story in the return of Sherlock Holmes (in 1901).

Holmes explained his victory over Professor Moriarty in their struggle at Reichenbach Falls by the use of "baritsu, or the Japanese system of wrestling, which has more than once been very useful to me"

A Game of Chance also has Stephen Fry as an excellent Mycroft Holmes. There is a comic scene in which he walks around his stately home - stark naked! Fear not, viewers, the camera used discrete angles to avoid giving cinema goers the fright of their lives.

"Call the Midwives" is shaping up to be a very good snapshot of life in the 1950s, before the optimism and hippy culture of the swinging sixties came to define the following decade.

In one recent episode a policeman warned Fred, the chap who looked after the boilers at the nurses home that he was breaking the law with his sidelines of quails and toffee apples. This even then a health and safety issue in the 1950s, demanding official intervention, because Fred was slaughtering and plucking of quails in a kitchen where he was also making toffee apples - so that feathers and blood on some apples!

But rather than arresting him, he told him that even now the public health officials were on their way to investigate, and he was breaking the law - and the best thing he could do was get back sharpish and clear it all up before they got there. Result - no health and safety hazard, no officials with fines and endless paperwork, and the Fred knew not to do it again. That's how policing used to work at its best - preventing people breaking the law, but doing it softly softly.

Last week, an even stronger episode followed. It was the story of the husband whose wife dies of pre-eclampsia, was very strong, and the part when he was just sitting beside her dead body on the hospital bed was very sad; but while he was shy, he came across as perhaps just too slightly reserved at that moment. I think lots of men looking at their young wife - however peaceful they looked in death - would be howling with grief and tears. Perhaps people were more buttoned up in those days; I'm not wholly convinced.

The other story was of the stolen baby, taken by a woman whose own baby had been taken from her from adoption; if ever there was a lesson against forced adoption, it was here. Whatever criticism people level against single mothers (and there is unfortunately a growing number of people and papers - like the Daily Mail - sounding off against them), this shows that the 1950s system of wrenching a mother apart from a child and placing them in adoption because the State knew best was not good either. It was heartless, and it gave no consideration of the trauma caused, which in this story, nearly ends in tragedy.

Faces

In the New Avenger's Story "Faces", the brilliant plastic surgeon, Dr Prator, recruits drifters from the Mission for the Distressed and Needy and replaces prominent government officials with

their perfect double.

Steed meets a politician he knows well, but the man walks straight past him - and when questioned, he has no idea who Steed is. Then Steed learns that other leading figures in the government have also been acting strangely. When one of them dies from an illness he didn't have, the clues lead Purdey and Gambit to an establishment in the East end of London run by a cosmetic surgeon.

But it is happening in real life. According to a secret police file, code named "Operate Xerox", the man above could be replaced with a Look A Like? Indeed the transformation might have already taken place. Look for strange changes in behaviour, like the call for a States run Reform Commission rather than an Independent one, and it is obvious.

Why has Johnny from X-Factor mysteriously disappeared? Does X-Factor stand for Xerox-Factor? Look below, and you will see a startling resemblance.

And word reaches me that a second candidate with political experience is also being groomed to sing from the same song sheet.

Seen from a Train

Here is a another short story from Annie Parmeter, written when she was 11, and in year 6 at Moorestown College, St Peter - an independent school that, like so many others in Jersey in the 20th century, is now closed. A friend of mine who was also at Moorestown has a memory of her from those days:

"She was older than me though, but I remember her as being great fun and people wanted to be around her. She was also very attractive and dark."

Regarding the subject in the text - the mountain. In English, the mountain is known as Mount Fuji. Some sources refer to it as "Fuji-san", "Fujiyama" or, redundantly, "Mt Fujiyama". "Fujiyama" is a less-common alternative reading of the Japanese characters used to spell the name of the mountain. However, Japanese speakers generally refer to the mountain as "Fuji-san". The meaning of the word "Fuji" is unclear, but a text of the 10th century Tale of the Bamboo Cutter says that the name came from "immortal". It is one of Japan's "Three Holy Mountains"

This is a fine piece of short descriptive writing, especially as when writing it she had never been to Japan...

Seen from a Train
by Annie Parmeter

As "Kodama" pulled out of Tokyo, I could look at the neon lights and skyscrapers - only eight storey ones - as far as the eye could see. This is Japan of today.

As our electric train glided, as if one air, through the suburban areas, the neon lights and skyscrapers became fewer and fewer. Finally, we reached the countryside, with all the cherry and almond trees in bloom, pretty girls in Kimonos and Pagodas and Paper Houses. This was real Japan.

As we glided past a rice field the workers waves and point to the train as if they knew us.

Presently we came to a mikan or tangerine grove, but I only caught a glimpse of it,  because my attention was distracted to the other side. There I became aware of the most beautiful sight I have ever seen - Mount Fujiyama, with her beautiful turquoise cloak, the collar trimmed with white fur, a steady column of smoke rising as straight as a die up into the cloudless blue sky.

As Fujiyama's ethereal form faded into the far distance, more rice fields began to roll by; I knew why the Japanese called Fujiyama their "sacred heavenly mountain."

As the setting sun began to make her graceful arch down into the hills, we drew into Kobe.

That was the most heavenly journey I have ever made.

Meades on France, and Let's Take Manhattan

I haven't caught up with the final installment of Jonathan Meades yet. But I managed to see the second part of his presentation on TV about France, entitled: "A Biased Anthology Of Parisian Peripheries" .

There was some brilliant exploration of the French style of architecture - neoclassical with gothic on top, and no sense that one could not mix styles. French colonialism also loomed large, with the backlash from French colonies being assassination of French officials, although two were passed off - unbelievably - as suicides. Believable only if you think someone can kill themselves by shooting themselves in the side of the head - twice!

There were also some very weird looking tower blocks, very distinctive and almost organic. Highlights included also included a taxi tour round the rich Parisian dwellings where it seems almost every dictator from Africa has a home from home, punctuated by the taxi driver mentioning they met President Obama, and a posed shot of the dictator with President Obama, of all people. This was repeated around five times, with the taxi driver chuckling. I suppose these State visits entail these kind of dictatorial photo-opportunities, but I can't say it says a lot about Obama's credibility as a moral leader, giving almost an endorsement of their regimes by doing so.

Here are some examples - quite incredible:
http://muqata.blogspot.com/2012/01/us-administration-refuses-to-meet.html
 
French colonialism loomed also in the way the French empire was transmitted. Unlike the British Empire, where the natives knew or were put in their place (as seen in Passage to India, for example) and class was rampant, the French Empire exported Frenchness. It was Fraternity, Equality, and the Liberty - to be French. So children in French colonial Africa and elsewhere would be learning minutiae about all the districts into which France was divided, something they would probably never need to know in their entire lives!

France also harboured Ayatollah Khomeini prior to his establishment of an extremist theocracy in Iran. Giscard-Estaing, who came across as extremely odious, let him stay in exile when all his advisors said it would end in tears. It did.

Meades also delivered a neat dig at multiculturalism - the British solution. It produces ghettos of people who don't see any need to integrate with their neighbours. France's solution is that all religions are equally fine as private pursuits, but not as public and divisive, which is why private displays of religion behind closed doors or mosques are left alone, but public displays are banned. It is the outcome of a French legacy of destructive wars of religion, where the French slaughtered each other in a frenzy over religious differences, and given that history, it is understandable.

There's a wonderful description of Meades in the Independent: "The last time I saw Jonathan Meades he was gate-crashing a party, already well refreshed. In fact, he turned up legless, but by the time he left he was miraculously sober, a curious inversion of the norm." Somehow that doesn't surprise me; it fits the peculiarly offbeat way in which he presents documentaries.

"We'll Take Manhattan" was a BBC 4 drama about photographer David Bailey and model Jean Shrimpton, starring Doctor Who's Karen Gillan with a posh English accent - with a different hairstyle and voice, and an English persona she was almost unrecognizable - a tribute to her acting skills.

The film focused on their trip to New York to do a photo shoot for Vogue Magazine. Excellent cast and production values made me wonder why this kind of drama is tucked away on BBC4 and not on perhaps BBC2. Aneurin Barnard was also very good as the brash young Bailey seeking to inject life into a photoshoot and not go for the conventional and stale conventions of the time. Helen McCrory as Lady Clare provided class conflict, and was sure she knew Bailey's stuff would fail, and wanted conventional shots; as it turned out, the vivid freshness of his photography meant she had to eat humble pie. Some stunning shots of the cast against the backdrop of New York too, with familiar buildings and bridges from the skyline. Evidently the film makers really sided with Lady Clare!

La Mer

I was listening to "La Mer", a song written by French lyricist Charles Trenet (1913-2001), on my MP3 player yesterday. Music can be very evocative of the past, and as the lyrics drifted into my consciousness, it took me back to my early teenage years, when I was around 12 or 13.

La mer

Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs
A des reflets d'argent
La mer
Des reflets changeants
Sous la pluie

La mer
Au ciel d'été confond
Ses blancs moutons
Avec les anges si purs
La mer bergère d'azur
Infinie

In the early 1970s, my parents became friends with the Regal family - the family business Regal Construction is still going run by their son Stephen Regal, who we saw from time to time. He had a drum kit at their house, and I think dreams of being part of a small local band. I never found out if anything had come of that.

Alf Regal had a boat which was a converted small navy boat, which he had repainted, and which he called Alfay (his wife's name was Fay). which had two bunks in the back, and four in the front, and in weekends in the summer, they used to invite our family to go to St Malo with them.

We'd set off in the boat on Friday nights, and arrive at St Malo in the dark, often gently gliding in and mooring beside the harbour walls. On the Saturday, we'd probably find a fresh berth though the docks, where there was a marina with many boats.

St Malo in the 1970s was a place of small restaurants where you could get a good meal for a relatively cheap price, and we would all go out when we arrived for an evening meal. The meal in France was something not to be rushed, but to be savoured over several hours, with a seafood hors d'oeuvre, with langoustines, winkles, whelks, oysters, prawns, followed by a good steak with petit pois and pommes frites, simple but well cooked. French cuisine always seemed so different, so foreign and tastier than English fare.

The adults would have wine; we'd sip a bit, but would mostly have Orangina, which came in small round bottles, the stem attached to the bulb of a bottle that was almost orange shaped. In those days, supermarkets in Jersey did not sell orangina, so it was a very French drink. If you don't know, it is a carbonated citrus beverage made from orange, lemon, mandarin, and grapefruit juices, and under a slightly different name of Naranjina, it originated at a 1936 Marseille Trade Fair.

And almost always in those evenings, sitting beneath the awnings of the restaurants, we would be serenaded by strolling musicians, entertaining the diners with songs, and hoping (and usually receiving) francs for their musical skills; they would have their own repertoire, but would often ask for any requests, if they knew them, and invariable someone would ask for La Mer.

Voyez
Près des étangs
Ces grands roseaux mouillés
Voyez
Ces oiseaux blancs
Et ces maisons rouillées

La mer
Les a bercés
Le long des golfes clairs
Et d'une chanson d'amour
La mer
A bercé mon cour pour la vie

Later, we'd make our way back to the boat, and settle down for the night, listening to the water lapping against the side, and feeling the gentle rocking of the boat in the tidal currents. Sometimes, another boat would moor alongside ours, and we'd be woken by revelers returning later in the night.

The boat had a small dining table, and a small cooker, and in the morning, we'd usually have bacon and eggs for breakfast, with toast; Alf and Fay being Jewish of course did not eat bacon, but she always got some it for us and cooked it, which was exceedingly generous and hospitable. In the day, we'd all go shopping in St Malo at the markets, getting French rolls for lunch, along with camembert, some French yoghurts and fresh peaches. One of Alf's party tricks was to walk on the key side, balancing a whole tray of peaches on his head. As children, we had been given some francs and centimes, and would often buy some French sweets, candy shaped in the form of fish or stones, and again so different from English sweets that we had.

Some of the time we'd be left to our own devices. I'd often be found in a small ledge on the side of the boat, reading away - no change there. But at other times, we might watch the playing of boules outside the city walls, or wander up and down the marina looking at the boats and yachts, and enjoying all the variety of shapes and sizes, the names - some evocative, some quirky - and the different places they all came from. Perhaps a crueler sport was to take small stones and dry to drop them on jelly-fish, but youngsters don't really think about every action of theirs.

It was on those strolls that I actually caught my first and only glimpse of a British Prime Minister in the flesh - it was, of course, Edward Heath, with his yacht Morning Cloud. I remember thinking he looked shorter and fatter than on television. We might also see the Condor Hydrofoil arrive - a small boat, not like the vaster Wave Piercers of today; it can still be seen on the DVD of the 1980s Jersey Detective show "Bergerac".

Walking through St Malo, or along the ramparts around the city walls, was not perhaps as good for our French as it should have been. It is surprising how a small stock of phrases does the job, and gets you by. Perhaps the names of the shops, especially those depicting the kind of trade - l'épicerie, la boulangerie, la pâtisserie, la charcuterie, le marché etc - were those we got to know best, with their exotic sounding names. And back in the early 1970s, when people didn't travel as much, France was an exotic place. We forget that now tourists can hop on a plane, and travel the globe with ease.

I used to enjoy also seeing well know brands but with all the wording in French. Now, of course, much of what you get in a supermarket has perhaps one language dominant, but also other languages such as French, but back then, well known brands like Kellogg's Cornflakes, would have an English version only in English; a French version in French.

But all too soon, it would be time to leave. Alf would call up Jersey Radio - the Jersey Harbour's radio channel (not to be confused with Radio Jersey!) - and give our time of departure and expected time of arrival, and we'd be off. Sometimes the journey was choppy, and we'd hang on for dear life as the boat rose and crashed down on waves. Sometimes it would be calm, and Alf would be at the helm at the wheel above, while in the cabin below, the inside wheel would also move in synchronization, and we could mime steering the boat.

We would arrive back, usually in the dark, seeing the red and green lights in the approach to the harbour, and would sleep soundly that night, with dreams were punctuated by memories of St Malo, of good food, and singing, of the sea, of La Mer.

And if you've never enjoyed La Mer, here it is sung...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fd_nopTFuZA

And the English translation is as follows:

The Sea
That one sees dancing along the clear gulfs
Has silver reflections
The Sea
Changing reflections
Under the rain

The Sea
In the summer sky merge
Its white sheep
With such pure angels
The sea, shepherdess of azure
Infinite

See
Close to the ponds
These large wet reeds
See
These white birds
And these rusted houses

The Sea
Has rocked them
Along the clear gulfs
And with a song of love
The Sea
Has soothed my heart for life

The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man

Upon the cross of wood, but upside down

An aura round my face, like a crown

I hang here, not dead or dying now

But just dangling down upon the bough

Yet not in life, but displaced in time

This is suspension so unknown, sublime

Entrancement veiled beneath my sight

I see the beyond, the infinite.

Funny Old World 11

Health Warning: what follows is not news, any more than the middle section of Private Eye is news, or The Impressionist is news, or Spitting Image was news. It is a light hearted spin on the real news, which can be found on genuine news sites, such as BBC Jersey. Other news sites are available. This is not one of them. None of the individuals mentioned have ever said anything quite like the words attributed to them. Which is perhaps a pity.

Chief Minister, Senator Ian Gorst, is proposing to introduce legislation designed to stop vultures from pursuing inequitable payments through Jersey's courts. The decision to propose a new law was taken following a public consultation on the subject, which closed in December 2011.

The proposed legislation would aim to limit practices that would allow vultures to fly in and out of Jersey's courts. Senator Gorst commented: "By bringing forward a law to discourage these vultures from flapping in and out of our courts looking for mice and other small furry mammals, Jersey will be sending a clear and positive message that we are a well-regulated jurisdiction which will not permit trained vultures stealing third world mice from our Courts."

Meanwhile, the new strategy from the Ramsar Management Authority aims to protect Jersey's offshore reefs wildlife. They will affect Ramsar sites at Les Minquiers, Les Ecrehous and Les Dirouilles and the Paternosters. The codes of conduct includes outlawing the use of trained vultures to seek out rabbits and other furry mammals living on the Island.

Discussions are taking place between the States police and their honorary colleagues to use a speed camera to crack down on speeding motorists. This camera photographs the number plates of speeding vehicles. It caused controversy last time because it records every speeding object moving too fast - even vultures flying  at just a few miles over the speed limit.

Jersey Post stop priority service from March. Jersey Post said they would be ending the two-tier postal service from March. It introduced a priority and a delayed post at a reduced rate in November 2010. It was decided to shelve the priority post. In future every letter will go by pigeon post rather than eagle express. A spokesman said, "We have concluded that a much fairer system would be for all post will be delayed at the same rate."

The 11th Great Garden Bird Watch takes place this weekend, Saturday 4 and Sunday 5 February.  Watch the birds in your garden for any period between 8 am and 11 am on either the Saturday or the Sunday. Note the highest number of each species of bird that you see together at one time during that period. Fill in the form below:

Robin
Blackbird
House Sparrow
Great Tit (or States Member)
Pigeon (whether or not carrying letters for Jersey Post)
Vulture (with or without funds)

Jersey Enterprise has helped a number of firms move to the island including mining, oil and gas companies. Oil companies were recently looking at the prospect of surface oil spilling out on the ground near Val de La Mare Reservoir. And there are believed to be rich seams yielding natural gas in the vicinity of the States Chamber.

Now Senator Alan Maclean said he wanted to attract more high-tech and online gambling firms. The minister said: "We don't want lots of people, we are an island, what we do want is individuals who will contribute a significant amount in terms of tax take.". It is understood that the well known high-tech gambler, Mr Fred Goodwin, is interested.
 
There is a new system for GPS on way.  Doctors would support a move away from Jersey's system of charging patients for a consultation, according to a representative of the Island's GPS. "With improved satellite technology, the GPS - Global Practitioner System - should be able to locate Doctors who are out playing golf, and  a 'blended' system would be best for both patients and doctors, where Medical Surgeries could be set up on the 19th hole".

Jersey's Housing Minister will be asked if there are plans to use some of the thousands of empty homes in the island. The latest census showed there were 3,103 private properties lying empty. The breakdown of ownership is as follows:
 
1,000 luxury flats which were unwanted Christmas presents from millionaires to their children
1,000 houses falling to bits, which aren't really empty if you are a rat looking for a home
500 houses owned by Windfall Developments Limited
500 houses which are in small back roads in St Ouen, and were lost along with a Manor in the 12th century
101 Safe Houses, held on behalf of MI5 and MI6. Interrogations take place in "House 101"
1 House which is owned by the Borrowers, little people about an inch tall.
1 House which is owned by a consortium of vultures, looking for extra funds.

February - The Diary of a Country Parson

This year I'm looking at some of the entries in the "The Diary of a Country Parson". This was a diary kept by an English clergyman, James Woodforde (1740-1803). Woodforde lived in Somerset and Norfolk, and kept a diary for 45 years recording all kind of ordinary incidents which paint a picture of the routines and concerns of what Ian Hislop terms "the middling folk" of 18th century rural England.

February sees some planting and pruning, but a recurring theme in most Februaries as the years go by is the brewing of beer. A hogshead of beer is mentioned - that is a large cask of liquid of round 54 gallons.

Beer brewing was serious business in the 18th century aside as a commercial venture - it is estimated that by 1750 almost 1,500 barrels of beer were being exported by the East India Company from England to Asia generally, and this rose to 9,000 barrels by 1800! Alongside this went technological innovation. Large London breweries pioneered the construction of large storage vats, the use of the thermometer (about 1760), the hydrometer (1770), and attemperators (about 1780).

But the late 18th century also saw a progressive taxation on beer, with three gradations -  "table", "small" and "strong" beer. So perhaps there was a degree of incentive for James Woodforde  to brew his own beer. Drink also is mentioned in the diary of 1770 - Thomas Barnes had been a "long time killing himself by Liquor'.

Elsewhere there is frosty weather, and bets made, and a masquerade ball. The term "cum multis aliis" mentioned here simply means "with many others":

Masquerades flourished in eighteenth century England as one of the primary forms of entertainment and social life...All masquerades, regardless of their location or attendance, carried with them a strong atmosphere of the "carnivalesque"  Set in the late evening hours, the masquerade ball environment was festive, noisy and gay. Music and lavish food and drink played a crucial role in establishing this atmosphere.(1)

The "commendatory prayer" mentioned is in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, a "commendatory Prayer for a sick person at the point of departure", from the Order for the Visitation of the Sick:

O ALMIGHTY God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made perfect, after they are delivered from their earthly prisons: We humbly commend the soul of this thy servant, our dear brother, into thy hands, as into the hands of a faithful Creator, and most merciful Saviour; most humbly beseeching thee, that it may be precious in thy sight. Wash it, we pray thee, in the blood of that immaculate Lamb, that was slain to take away the sins of the world; that whatsoever defilements it may have contracted in the midst of this miserable and naughty world, through the lusts of the flesh, or the wiles of Satan, being purged and done away, it may be presented pure and without spot before thee. And teach us who survive, in this and other like daily spectacles of mortality, to see how frail and uncertain our own condition is; and so to number our days, that we may seriously apply our hearts to that holy and heavenly wisdom, whilst we live here, which may in the end bring us to life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ thine only Son our Lord. Amen.

It comes as a shock to realise that the Anglican Church had a form of public penance in Church even up to the 18th century! Charles Cox, (1843-1919) describes this in his book "The Parish Registers of England":

Penance of a public character by no means came to an end with the Reformation. Its prevalence during Elizabethan,  Stuart, and post-Restoration times depended largely on the  vigour with which the archdeacon and his officials carried on their duties. For the most part the archidiaconal courts were held with regularity, and the churchwardens urged to make due presentments. On conviction for divers of the less serious offences, such as non-payment of tithes or Easter dues, or for the non-observance of Sundays or Saints' Days, offenders were admonished, and if obstinate excommunicated ; but in such cases absolution and discharge could  usually be obtained on payment of a fine. In proved cases of slander and of incontinence, humiliating public penances were, however, as a rule exacted. The ordinary penance for such offences was the standing in church during service time (and occasionally also in the market-place) and reciting a form of confession.

In the eighteenth century the custom prevailed in London diocese, and probably elsewhere, of penance for slander taking place in the vestry, immediately after morning prayer, when the offender confessed and asked pardon of the slandered person in the presence of minister and wardens and a select number of other witnesses. The white -sheet penance before the whole congregation was reserved for incontinence.

It is of no small interest to note that a man did public penance in Ashingdon church, Essex, in 1717, for the now civilly legalised sin of marrying his deceased wife's sister.

The form of penance varied, but the case of that performed by Margaret Tyler of Culworth gives an idea of what was involved where sexual misdemeanors were involved:

"Thes cl Marg. Tyler shall upon ye Sunday next after ye divine service stand before ye minister's Reading Desk appareld in a white sheet from head to foot and in ye presence of ye congregation there assembled make her confession as follows : Good People, I confess I have grievously offended Almighty God by falling into ye foul sin of Fornication and thereby given an evil example to my neighbours for wch I am most heartyly sorry and do earnestly beg pardon of Almighty God and of all others that I have offended by this my evil example and I do promise (by y e grace of God) never to offend in y e like again. And I do also promise before God and this congregation to live herafter more soberly and godly in all other respects as a good Christian ought to do. And that I may perform my vows and promises made before this congregation, I do most earnestly desire y or prayers."

And one which is like that described by James Woodforde is as follows:

"1728 (Uxbridge, Middlesex). N.B. On July 7, Unity Winch did penance at morning service for May 26. [On the 26 of May is an entry of the baptism of the illegitimate child of Unity Winch.]

The practice certainly continued throughout the 18th century, and we can be glad that it doesn't exist any more, although Bishop Charles Gore, writing in 1930, seemed to lament the fact:

In the Church of England confession is required of no one, and public penance has almost ceased...the result is this, that most of our members do not seek the judgement of the Church upon their lives, but are content to trust their own consciences; and we must leave them to the judgement of God. But this is only tolerable if we are doing our best to instruct their consciences and let them know what the mind of the Church is, as on other matters, so on the sexual relation. It is both foolish and sinful, now that sexual mysteries are matters of common conversation in all classes, to avoid plain speaking in religious instruction.(3)

February - The Diary of a Country Parson.

1764 FEB. 20. . . . I have been very busy all this day in planting my Peas and Beans and Radishes, and Spanish Onions, in my garden at Babcary. . . . I was sent this afternoon to a Poor Woman that lives by the Church, to come and pray by her -- which I did. . .

1765 FEB. 5. Breakfasted, dined, supped, and laid at Babcary again. I have been busy to-day in pruning the apple trees in my garden there. .

For laying a wager with Betty Crich my old Woman's daughter concerning frosty weather last Thursday, and losing with her paid. . . 0. 0. 6

1766 FEB. 17. . . . One Robert Galpine, an old School Fellow of mine at Winton College [Winchester College], who was expelled genteely from it, and whom I have not seen this ten years, called upon me this evening at Parsonage and spent the former part of the evening with us there. . . .

1766 FEB. 20. . . . Galpine (I believe) is in the capacity of a servant to Mr. Meach of Serne in Dorset an Apothecary.

1767 FEB. 3. . . . I spent the evening and supped at Ansford Inn, there being a Masquerade Ball there this evening, and very elegant it was, much beyond my expectation in all respects. . . . Parson Penny, Gapper, Baily, Witwick and Overton and myself were the Clergymen that were there. . . . Brother John [was in the character of] a Counsellor, Brother Heighes, King Richard the Third; John Burge, Othello; Sister Jane, Shepherdess; Sally Clarke, Diana Trapes . . . cum multis aliis, all in very rich dresses but in no particular characters. . . . I did not dance the whole evening. We had good musick viz., four Violins, a Bass Viol, a Taber and Pipe, a Hautboy and French horn played by Mr. Ford.

1767 FEB. 9. . . . I got up at 3 o'clock this morning to brew a hogshead of strong beer. . . . I was busy all day at the Lower House, and therefore stayed there the whole day, and did not go to bed this night as we could not tun our liquor till near two in the morning.

1767 FEB. 12. I got up before one this morning and brewed a 3 quarter barrel of strong beer and some small beer and had it all cool and tunned by four o'clock in the afternoon. . . .

1768 FEB. 3. . . . One Sarah Gore, came to me this morning and brought me an instrument from the Court of Wells, to perform publick Pennance next Sunday at C. Cary Church for having a child, which I am to administer to her publickly next Sunday after Divine Service [which accordingly was done after the sermon on Sunday Feb. 7th].

1768 FEB. 17. . . . As I returned from Church [it was Ash Wednesday] I went into Ansford Inn and read the Commendatory Prayer to poor Mrs. Perry, who was just departing this life and who died just as I had finished. She went off extremely easy, without any visible emotion at all. I hope she is gone to unspeakable joys of Eternity. Lord, make us wise to consider our latter end and live good lives.

1770  FEB. 13. . . . To a wager with Brother Heighes that he could not walk the Scratch this night at 10 o'clock, lost o. o. 6.

1770 FEB. 2 8. . . . I buried poor Thos Barnes this afternoon [who had been 'a long time killing himself by Liquor'] at Cary, aged 48. A great many people attended him to his grave. He was, I believe, no man's enemy, but to himself a great one. .

Links
(1) http://www.umich.edu/~ece/student_projects/masquerade/commonalities.html
(2) http://www.archive.org/stream/parishregisterso00coxjuoft/parishregisterso00coxjuoft_djvu.txt
(3) http://anglicanhistory.org/gore/contra1930.html

The Path to Spring

February 2nd is Imbolc (also Imbolg), or St Brigid's Day, an Irish festival marking the beginning of spring. Here is a meditation for that day.

The Path to Spring
 
The snow was coming down more heavily, a white blizzard that I struggled through; I was wrapped up with a thick coat and scarf, yet still was felt the chill of the wind, and the cold seeping up from the ground below as my feet crunched the powered snow.
 
I had been on straightforward path, well mapped out to my destination, a home where I could expect a warm welcome from friends. At some point, I must have taken a wrong turning. As the snow settled on the stone walls and the thin skeletal branches of trees, the whole landscape became different, and the track beneath my feet disappeared from my sight.
 
The winter had been a time of dark overcast skies, and short days, and I was tired, worn out, and in need of rest. And now it was starting to get dark once more, a purple hue creeping over the land. Whatever track I was now on was climbing uphill, and I was in need of a place to rest.
 
The birds had long ceased to sing, and the land around was silent except for the soft sound of falling snow. I felt that I was completely alone; it was as if I had crossed into a strange twilight region, another world with no people, no birds or animals. It felt like a silent land, that seemed to be on the threshold of some momentous change.
 
As the path twisted through fir trees, I happened to look up the hill, and there I saw a dwelling, a lodge house of some kind, with light shining from its window, and smoke drifting from its chimney. There was some kind of shelter, and the promise of warmth and hospitality, a relief for any weary traveller. My pace quickened.
 
I rang the bell, and an old man answered the door, and invited me in. He welcomed me, and took me down a short corridor into a large living room. Gas light burned brightly from mantles fixed to the walls, bookcases filled with ancient books lined one wall; at its centre was a large granite fireplace, with a blazing fire, and sparks cascading up the chimney. There were three comfortable if old fashioned looking arm chairs beside the fireplace, with a large harp beside one.
 
He bade me sit by the fireside to warm myself, and dry my damp clothes, while he went off. Presently he returned with a mug of warm rich vegetable broth, which I sipped hungrily, while he sat quietly, puffing away on a pipe, and sending smoke rings towards the fire.
 
After I had eaten my fill, a young girl entered the room, and he introduced her as his daughter, Brigid. She sat, and began to play the harp, and this is the song she sang:
 
Now the green blade rises, from the buried grain,
East brings the cold winds, and the freezing rain
Love lives again, with feathered touch unseen
Opening the east, comes time to spring up green.
 
In funeral pyre now burning, and beyond all pain
South brings the fires, ends where death has slain
Ashes scatter on the wind, incense sweet and clean
Opening the south, after firestorm, spring up green
 
Now the green blade rises, from the buried grain,
West brings the snowfall, and then thaws to rain
Love lives again, with pure water bubbling clean
Opening the west, herbs now spring up green.
 
When our hearts are saddened, grieving or in pain,
North brings forth rich soil, winter's gods are slain
Salt brings its flavour, light of the world now seen
Opening the north, like wheat that springs up green.
 
The last notes played on the harp faded away, and the old man rose and showed me to a bedroom where I could sleep. It was warm and cosy, snuggled beneath blankets, and listening to the friendly creaking of the house around me. There was a candle on the bedside beside me, and I blew it out, settling down in the darkness. Then a deep sleep fell upon me, and in my sleep, I had a dream.
 
In my dream, I was standing in a forest clearing, with a bright full moon in a clear sky above. In the dark shade around its edges, I saw rippling moonlight on the ground as the cool breeze blew the branches. In the centre of the forest clearing, I saw a stone well, and a handle to crank to get water from the well.
 
There was a stone beside the well, and there I saw a young woman, seated, with a green shawl wrapped around her, and a red dress. I saw that she was holding a child in her arms. She had a pole with a lantern on it beside her, its candle burning strongly and her face shone brightly in its yellow light.
 
I approached her, and she spoke:
 
Take this candle to light the way
To take away the darkness of the past
May it be a light to enlighten you
To guide you through difficult times
And shine on the path you seek
 
Take this candle to light the way
To take away the darkness of the past
May it be a fire within you
To burn out the pride and selfishness
And shine on the path you seek
 
Take this candle to light the way
To take away the darkness of the past
May it be a flame to bring warmth
To your neighbours and family
And shine on the path you seek
 
Take this candle to light the way
I cannot stay long with you
In leaving this candle
I give something of myself
To shine on the path you seek
 
And she hands me the lantern, and tells me to let love and compassion burn within ny heart, for then I will find the path to eternal spring.
 
I take the candle and bow to her, and as I do so, I hear a cock crow; it is dawn, and the dream is gone in an instant. I awake in my bed in the lodge. I got up and dressed, and went to the living room, but the fire was out, just grey ashes, and no sign of anyone. On the table beside a chair, there was a note. I picked it up and read it, and it said "Go with joy and hope.".
 
I stepped outside, and headed down the path. The snow had stopped falling, and the ice was beginning to thaw. Further down, I heard the sound of water, and came across a stream running over a rocky bed. I bent down to cup some of the water in my hand. It was ice cold, but so fresh and pure to drink.
 
When I looked up the hillside, the lodge had gone, and in its place, only the ruined shell of a building, bricks covered with moss and ivy; it looked as if it must have that crumbled away over a hundred years ago. Yet I was sure it had been there, a place for the weary traveller, that perhaps came when need called forth the past.
 
I carried on walking. The signs were there that Winter was slowly ending. The woods rang with the cries of starlings, serenading their potential mates; I saw the sun break out from behind the clouds, catching the starlings in flight, green whirls of plumage in a blue sky.
 
A time of transition was in progress, and the music of the birds sang of new life, of seeking nesting for the Spring to come. Snowdrops were rising from the ground. There might be more cold days, and some bitter, but I knew that the reach of Winter was slipping.
 
Then all at once, I saw where I had turned off the main track, and took once more the path to spring. I did not have the lantern from my dream, but the memories of the night, remained, and the candle light burned deeply within me.

St Helier in 1932 - Harbour and Town Church

A few more extracts from the 1932 Guide Book to the Channel Islands...

It is interesting to see a grumble about the "unattractive, bare-looking Harbour approach" - we've had that in the last 20 years, especially when the reclamation work was all going on. It's a lot better now, with a fairly nice avenue past the roundabout and Cineworld car park, but the chief problem today is that it is a long way to go, especially for foot passengers. Guernsey has always had an advantage in this respect - from Harbour to St Peter Port is a short distance.

I remember the Weighbridge Gardens with the statue of Victoria, all shifted to make way for the bus stops. The open space that exists now is perfect for open events, but looks rather bare the rest of the time. It seems a shame that a garden could not have been restored, especially as there is photographic detail of how it looked.

The Post Office is still in Broad Street, but the train offices are long gone, alas!

The history of the Town Church seems to be quite deficient. It certainly doesn't date from "the middle of the
fourteenth century" - the choir and a small part of the nave which show clear evidence of early Norman, tenth or eleventh-century architecture. And the date of the church can be placed before 1066, because William, Duke of Normandy (not yet King of England) endorsed his father's gift of half its revenues to the Abbey of Cérisy la Forêt.

What is more, the North Chapel has a stone-built half-vault which is unique in Channel Island Churches. So much for the dismissive "little architectural interest" of the guide book. The other note that "unlike nearly all the other parish churches, it has retained its square tower". One can only assume that the author of the guide was basing his architectural comparisons on English churches, not Jersey ones.

The restoration of 1863 is covered in more detail on the Parish Church website:

In 1865, The Revd. Philip Filleul Rector and Vice-dean, with the support of the Constable and parishioners, undertook a thorough restoration. A south transept and western extension to the nave, both with galleries, were built, the chancel, altar and font replaced and the church furnished with uniform pews. An organ was installed in the north chapel, which had been used for many years as the town mortuary. In 1930, the choir was raised and new stalls erected and over the years the organ was enhanced to become a first-class instrument. (1)

It is interesting to note that 142 years later, more restoration has taken place, and the burial site of Major Peirson, mentioned in the guide book, has actually been uncovered.

The Town Church is currently undergoing a period of restoration. During 2007-2008 the exterior has been completely re-pointed and re-roofed. Starting in 2009 the focus of the restoration work has moved inside. The work will include the installation of under floor heating, re-plastering, maintenance of the wall monuments, and lighting.

I've not been able to find any major reasons for the mention of tombstones, except that one was a little over 4 years, and the other one over 100 years old. Jean Laffoley, born in 1659, dying in 1759, would have lived though the end of the Republic, when Richard Cromwell was forced to resign, and through the reigns of Charles II (1660 - 1685 ), James II ( 1685 - 1688 ), William and Mary ( 1689 - 1702 ), Anne ( 1702 - 1714 ), George I ( 1714 - 1727 ) and almost to the end of the reign of George II ( 1727 - 1760 )!

---

IN THE TOWN.

Having reached the landward end of the Harbour from the landing-stage on the pier, one passes between the Western Railway Station and the Weighbridge Gardens, a small grass-plot with beds of flowers relieving the unattractive, bare-looking Harbour approach, and containing a Statue of Queen Victoria, erected in 1890.

Facing the sea hereabouts are some of St. Helier's many hotels. Extending to the left is the fine Esplanade. To-
wards the right rises Fort Regent, at which we will presently look more closely, and ahead, leading into the town, are two thoroughfares. That on the right, MuIcaster Street, goes to the Parish Church and to the immediate neighbourhood of Royal Square, both of which can also be reached by way of the left-hand thoroughfare, Conway Street, which ends at Bond Street on the right and Broad Street on the left. A few steps along the latter is the General Post Office. In Bond Street are the offices of the Southern Railway and the Great Western Railway. On the right also is

The Parish Church.

The town church of St. Helier is one of the twelve parish churches of the island. It dates from the middle of the
fourteenth century, but is of little architectural interest.

In 1863-7 it was thoroughly restored. Unlike nearly all the other parish churches, it has retained its square tower.

Stained-glass windows display Biblical subjects. At the eastern end of the south wall is a tablet to the memory of the gallant Peirson, who was buried under the tower.

On the west wall of the south aisle is a tablet removed from the floor near the north door, in memory of Maximilian Norrey, who died in 1591 while serving in the army of Henry IV of Bourbon, King of France and Navarre. The inscription is in Latin. French and English translations are given on adjacent slabs. The Norreys, whose arms are on one of the gateways of Mont Orgueil Castle, were buried in a vault in this church.

The organ, placed in the church in 1922, is the finest in the Channel Islands.

In the churchyard, against the east wall of the church, is a flat tombstone recording in French the death of P. H.
Durell, Jun., on the 31st April, 1755, aged 4 years and 8 months.

On the north side of the church, in a line with the west front, is an upright stone inscribed : " Icy repose le corps de Mtre Jean Laffoley decede le 30eme Jeanvier, 1759 age de 100 ans et quatre mois."

Links
(1) http://www.townchurch.org.je/st_helier_town_church_town_church_jersey_history.htm