75 Years Ago Today: Coventry Cathedral

The German Luftwaffe bombed Coventry on November 14, 1940, destroying the Anglican Cathedral and the Cathedral is celebrating the 75th anniversary of that night of terror:

BBC Radio 4’s Sunday programme highlighted Coventry’s perspective on the subject of remembrance in a special feature broadcast on the morning of Remembrance Sunday, November 8th. You can listen to it here.

On the evening of Saturday 14th November, the city is planning to create a giant Human Chain of Peace and Light in the city centre finishing at the Cathedral. Each person attending will carry a light along the chain to symbolise communities joining together in a universal message of remembering the past but looking to the future. Join His Royal Highness The Duke of Kent KG GCMG GCVO ADC and listen to LocalVocals as they sing songs from the 40’s. Hear survivor stories and stand shoulder to shoulder with your neighbour and a host of VIPs to remember the Blitz. The event begins in the University Square at 6.30 pm. Bring your torch or mobile phone to light up the square at 7 pm.

The inspiration for the Human Chain comes from Dresden where a similar event takes place annually and attracts thousands of people from across the country.

The Blitz 75th Commemorations programme continues with a concert in the Cathedral at 7.30 pm on Saturday evening with the Saint Michael’s Singers performing Mozart’s Requiem and Solemn Vespers with the Parliament Choir and the English Symphony Orchestra. . . .

On the evening of Sunday 15th November, the Cathedral will be hosting a Civic Service of Commemorationat 7 pm. Everyone is invited to come and join in looking back to the events of 75 years ago in company with representatives from Coventry’s friends across the world – including nations with whom we were at war in 1940.

The destroyed Cathedral, dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel, was of course formerly a Catholic church, built in the 14th and 15th centuries. The first cathedral of Coventry was St. Mary's, a Benedictine Priory. One might note that Henry VIII destroyed St. Mary's in the 16th century (the only cathedral destroyed during the English Reformation) in the course of the Dissolution of the Monasteries--he had offered it to the people of Coventry for purchase, but they could not raise the funds, so he had it razed. The ruins are of course now a tourist site.

St. Mary's was founded in the 11th century and there's an intriguing historical connection:

Leofric, earl of Chester, and Godiva his wife founded the great Benedictine monastery of Coventry in 1043, it being consecrated on 4 October by Archbishop Eadsige. The church was dedicated to the honour of God and His Blessed Mother, and also of St. Peter the Apostle, and of the Holy Virgin St. Osburg and of All Saints. It was endowed by the founder with one-half of the town in which the monastery was situated, and with twenty-four lordships, fifteen of which were in this county, four in Leicestershire, two in Northamptonshire, and one each in Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, and Cheshire. Among the witnesses to this foundation charter were Edward the Confessor, the archbishop of Canterbury, the bishops of Worcester and Lichfield, the abbots of Winchcombe and Pershore, and the earls Godwin, Harold, Siward, and Ordgar. The king confirmed to this abbot and his successors sac and soc and toll and all other liberties.

Yes, that Lady Godiva, who probably never rode a horse naked.

St. Mary's Priory was surrendered to the Crown on January 15, 1539. St. Michael's Cathedral was rebuilt after the Blitz and was consecrated in 1962 with Benjamin Britten's War Requiem premiering. The War Requiem combines traditional parts of the Catholic Missa pro Defunctis with the poems of Wilfred Owen, a World War I poet. Sir Simon Rattle recorded it in 2013 with the Berlin Philharmonic.

Image credit: Winston Churchill visits the ruins of the Cathedral in 1941.

St. Martin of Tours versus St. Francis of Assisi

Via Louisa May Alcott:

Rose in Bloom contains an extended discussion of saints and devotion when Rose and her cousin Charlie debate the merits of St. Francis of Assisi and St. Martin of Tours:

"Some of my saints here were people of one idea, and though they were not very successful from a worldly point of view while alive, they were loved and canonized when dead," said Rose, who had been turning over a pile of photographs on the table and just then found her favorite, St. Francis, among them.

"This is more to my taste. Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows give me the blues, but here's a gentlemanly saint who takes things easy and does good as he goes along without howling over his own sins or making other people miserable by telling them of theirs." And Charlie laid a handsome St. Martin beside the brown-frocked monk.

Rose looked at both and understood why her cousin preferred the soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix. One was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with horse and hound and squires at his back; and the other was in a lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying. The contrast was a strong one, and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight, though she said thoughtfully, "Yours is certainly the pleasantest and yet I never heard of any good deed he did, except divide his cloak with a beggar, while St. Francis gave himself to charity just when life was most tempting and spent years working for God without reward. He's old and poor, and in a dreadful place, but I won't give him up, and you may have your gay St. Martin if you want him."

"No, thank you, saints are not in my line but I'd like the golden-haired angel in the blue gown if you'll let me have her. She shall be my little Madonna, and I'll pray to her like a good Catholic," answered Charlie, turning to the delicate, deep-eyed figure with the lilies in its hand.

"With all my heart, and any others that you like. Choose some for your mother and give them to her with my love."

So Charlie sat down beside Rose to turn and talk over the pictures for a long and pleasant hour. But when they went away to lunch, if there had been anyone to observe so small but significant a trifle, good St. Francis lay face downward behind the sofa, while gallant St. Martin stood erect upon the chimneypiece.

As this site notes, however, St. Martin of Tours did much more than divide his cloak:

He was ordained an exorcist and worked with great zeal against the Arians. He became a monk, living first at Milan and later on a small island. When Hilary was restored to his see after exile, Martin returned to France and established what may have been the first French monastery near Poitiers. He lived there for 10 years, forming his disciples and preaching throughout the countryside.

The people of Tours demanded that he become their bishop. He was drawn to that city by a ruse—the need of a sick person—and was brought to the church, where he reluctantly allowed himself to be consecrated bishop. Some of the consecrating bishops thought his rumpled appearance and unkempt hair indicated that he was not dignified enough for the office.

Along with St. Ambrose, Martin rejected Bishop Ithacius’s principle of putting heretics to death—as well as the intrusion of the emperor into such matters. He prevailed upon the emperor to spare the life of the heretic Priscillian. For his efforts, Martin was accused of the same heresy, and Priscillian was executed after all. Martin then pleaded for a cessation of the persecution of Priscillian’s followers in Spain. He still felt he could cooperate with Ithacius in other areas, but afterwards his conscience troubled him about this decision.

As death approached, his followers begged him not to leave them. He prayed, "Lord, if your people still need me, I do not refuse the work. Your will be done."

It's Not April, But . . .

Two priests in England are leading a pilgrimage to Canterbury:

An ancient trail of pilgrimage runs through south-east England; a pathway along which so much of English identity converges. It is the way of St Thomas Becket, the martyr who stood up to a King and inspired Christendom. It is a route that drew countless pilgrims in ages past, captured the imagination of Chaucer and is reviving in our own time.

This film follows Fr Marcus Holden and Fr Nicholas Schofield as they journey from London to Canterbury. Along the way they discover the story of St Thomas and some fascinating traditions: the Rood of Boxley, the splendour of Rochester, the 'second Carmel' at Aylesford and many more.

By retracing the steps of the medieval pilgrims, this film draws out the rich Christian heritage of England and reflects on what it means 'To Be A Pilgrim.'

When I read The Canterbury Tales in a Catholic High School we certainly did not skip over the faults and foibles of the clergy as Chaucer depicts them. Only the Parson has any of the virtues of his office and vocation: the Monk, the Prioress, the Friar are each corrupt and venal in some way. But the Pardoner, who dispenses indulgences, is worst of all:

With him there rode a gentle PARDONER 

Of Rouncivalle (comrades and friends they were), 

Who'd come straight from the court of Rome. 

And he Would loudly sing "Come hither, love, to me!" 

The Summoner bore him a stiff bass staff; 

No trumpet ever sounded so by half. 

The Pardoner's hair was as yellow as wax, 

But hung as smoothly as a hank of flax; 

In little strands the locks ran from his head 

Till over both his shoulders they were spread 

And thinly lay, one here, another there. 

In jolly spirit, he chose not to wear 

His hood but kept it packed away. 

He rode (Or so he thought) all in the latest mode; 

But for a cap his long loose hair was bare. 

Such glaring eyes he had, just like a hare! 

A veronica was sewn upon his cap. 

He had his bag before him in his lap, 

Brimming with pardons hot from Rome. 

He'd speak In voice as dainty as a goat's. From cheek 

To cheek he had no beard and never would, 

So smooth his face you'd think he'd shaved it good. 

I think he was a gelding or a mare. 

But speaking of his craft, Berwick to Ware 

There was no pardoner could take his place. 

For in his bag he had a pillowcase 

That used to be, he said, Our Lady's veil; 

He claimed he had a fragment of the sail 

That took Saint Peter out upon the sea 

Before Christ called him to his ministry; 

He had a cross of latten set with stones, 

And in a glass he had some old pig's bones; 

And with these relics, when he saw at hand 

A simple parson from the hinterland, 

He'd make more money in one day alone 

Than would the parson two months come and gone. 

So he made apes, with all the tricks he'd do, 

Of parson and of congregation too. 

And yet I should conclude, for all his tactic, 

In church he was a fine ecclesiastic, 

So well he read a lesson or a story, 

And best of all intoned the offertory. 

For well he knew that when the song was sung, 

He then must preach, and not with awkward tongue. 

He knew how one gets silver from the crowd; 

That's why he sang so merrily and loud.

The British Library has more information about the Pardoner's role.

Remembrance Sunday and the Fallen

World War I revived prayer for the dead among Anglicans: the Prayer Book of 1928 included prayers for the dead in funeral services and a liturgy for All Souls Day on November 2. This is the current Collect:

Eternal God, our maker and redeemer,
grant us, with all the faithful departed,
the sure benefits of your Son’s saving passion
and glorious resurrection
that, in the last day,
when you gather up all things in Christ,
we may with them enjoy the fullness of your promises;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Alan Wilkinson notes in his 1978 book on how the Church of England responded to WWI that Cosmo Lang--a former Fellow of All Souls College in Oxford--preached about a new view of prayer for the dead as early as 1914. While he cited the abuses of Tetzel and the "chantry system", he noted that it is natural to pray for those who have died. When so many young men, sons, brothers, fiances, and relatives were dying for their country, it is hard not to pray for them to rest in heaven. As Wilkinson sums it up, "bereavement was sweeping away the latent Protestantism of the English people in this matter"--among Anglo-Catholics, Requiem Masses were celebrated. 

The Church of England certainly did not restore the doctrine of Purgatory, a place of purgation from the attachment to sin and purification before entering eternal paradise, but prayer for the dead almost requires that there is some chance for final preparation after death. The saints in Heaven do not need our prayers; the damned in Hell cannot benefit from them.

The situation of each dead soldier's preparation for death by a holy life, balanced by his sacrifice for his country, raised many questions--would he go to heaven for dying for his country in spite of a sinful life? Did his sacrifice in war atone for personal sins? Wilkinson says that many felt uncomfortable with this "quasi-Islamic belief"--so people prayed for their beloved dead.

Hilaire Belloc and All Souls

In the article/blog post I cited yesterday by Father Lucie-Smith on Purgatory, he highlighted one of the constituent colleges of the University of Oxford: All Souls:

One of the most famous Oxford colleges, All Souls, was founded as a group of clerks who were charged with praying for the dead of the French Wars, in the reign of that most pious king, Henry VI. One of the founders was Archbishop Chichele of Canterbury, whose tomb in Canterbury is so striking. The upper level of the tomb shows the Archbishop fully vested, looking most splendid. The lower level shows a withered cadaver. The message is clear: death is the great leveler. “I was pauper-born,” reads the inscription, “Then to primate raised. Now I am cut down and served up for worms. Behold my grave.” The Archbishop constructed the tomb before he died, and its purpose is to serve not just as a momento (sic) mori, but also as a way of soliciting a prayer for the deceased.
(I visited the basilica of St. Denis north of Paris and saw the cadaver tombs of Louis XII and his wife Anne of Brittany and of Henri II and Catherine de Medici--they do have a great effect!)

Of the history of All Souls, the college website states:

All Souls had two functions. The first, common to all colleges, was religious. The Warden and, originally, forty Fellows were to pray in chapel for the souls of the founders, of those who had fallen in the long wars with France (at the time not being prosecuted with much vigour), and of 'all the faithful departed'. The second function was academic, and in this, then as now, the College was distinctive. Chichele envisaged the medieval equivalent of a graduate college, an institute of advanced study of a very practical kind. With minor exceptions, the College never took in undergraduates. Its Fellows were previously to have studied somewhere else for at least three years and most would already have a BA. Once admitted they were to study or teach for the higher degrees of theology, law (civil and 'canon', or Church, law), and medicine - especially theology and law. The Fellows, all in Holy Orders, had to prepare themselves, not for life in the ivory tower, but for service to Church and government. They were, as Chichele himself put it, an 'unarmed militia', trained for the unashamedly patriotic task of restoring national prestige and good order in the face of heresy at home and stalemate abroad.

Tudor religious changes created much confusion in the College:

The Reformation and the religious changes of the mid-sixteenth century left their mark on the College. John Warner, the Regius Professor of Medicine (Warden from 1536 to 1556 and again from 1559 to 1565) showed notable flexibility in retaining office under Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I (for two years), and Elizabeth I, but some Fellows were deprived of their fellowships in both Protestant and Catholic times. The chapel lost its altars, its reredos statues, its organ, and some of its vestments and ornaments; changes in taste as well as religion caused many manuscripts to be withdrawn from the College library, some of which (thanks to the enterprise of Christopher Plantin) are now in the Plantin-Moretus Museum in Antwerp. Such restoration as occurred under Philip and Mary was reversed under their successor, when the chantry functions of the College became much attenuated and a clean sweep was ultimately made of 'idolatrous monuments'. The religious changes of the sixteenth century also affected the college's academic bias. Greek and Latin lecturerships and a Civil Law lecture (seemingly short lived) were established by the Royal Visitors in 1535, and the Commissioners of 1549 even proposed that the College should become devoted exclusively to legal studies. This did not come about (the twenty-four theology fellowships continued to be formally 'artist' places), but the College's reputation as a nursery of lawyers, and especially of civil lawyers practising in the ecclesiastical and admiralty courts, dates from this period.

All Souls selects its Fellows by offering examinations. Hilaire Belloc took the examination and failed to earn a Fellowship after earning a First in History from Balliol College in 1895. This site suggests that he might have failed because he placed a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the desk before his examination. I can imagine Belloc being so demonstrative about his faith. Remember his famous response when running for Parliament. Asked if he was Papist, he took his rosary beads out of his pocket and said, "Sir, so far as possible I hear Mass each day and I go to my knees and tell these beads each night. If that offends you, then I pray God may spare me the indignity of representing you in Parliament." Belloc was, however, very disappointed not to earn the All Souls fellowship--he probably would have started praying for all the souls of the faithful departed!

Forgetting and Remembering in November

Yesterday I posted the comments from British publications about it being time to forgive and forget the Gunpowder plotters, especially Guy Fawkes, who is still burned in effigy. It does seem from the mainstream media reports in England that many don't know why they are celebrating with bonfires and fireworks--at least this story starts with the questions. It does seem silly to continue the celebrations on the Fifth of November if no one knows why. Clearly we can't forget the conflict and desperation that provoked the Gunpowder Plotters, who wanted the freedom to practice their Catholic faith and believed the only way to obtain that freedom was violence and power: murder the reigning monarch and take over the government.

November is the month for remembering. In the United States, we remember the living Veterans who have served our country on November 11 (Memorial Day is the holiday for remember those who died in the service and defense of the USA; Armed Forces Day is for celebrating current military service members). In the United Kingdom, November 11 is Remembrance Day to mark the end of WWI and signing of the Armistice--the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. In France and other Allied countries, it's Armistice Day.

On Thanksgiving Day in the USA we remember all the people and things we should be thankful for. We recall the history of our founding as colonies of England, the risks and dangers the colonists and pilgrims faced, and the freedom of religion and worship they sought.

Throughout the month of November, Catholics remember the Poor Souls in Purgatory. As Father Alexander Lucie-Smith comments in The Catholic Herald, this remembrance of the dead, praying for God's mercy on those who loved Him but are not ready to be with Him in Heaven, this Catholic doctrine and practice is comforting and charitable:

The Reformation was a revolt against many things, but one thing in particular, the doctrine of Purgatory. Henry VIII destroyed the monasteries, which were communities charged with praying for the dead; he also suppressed the chantries, which were endowments for secular clergy to pray for the dead. There are still chantry chapels in England, but these are places where no Masses are now sung. I find these empty chantries inexpressibly sad, and a poignant reminder of our national apostasy. In the nineteenth century several great Catholics tried to restore this tradition, such as AW Pugin. The greatest modern chantry in the land is that built over the tombs of the Emperor Napoleon III, the Empress Eugenie and the Prince Imperial, at Farnborough.**

In trying to eradicate the doctrine of Purgatory, the Protestant reformers took from ordinary people what must have been their greatest comfort. When someone dies, you can no longer do anything for them, and you may very well regret all the things you should have done but failed to do for them while they were alive. If you can pray for their soul, this means that you have the comfort of helping them after their death, which is a huge aid to those who mourn.

The other comfort about Purgatory is this. We have to be perfect to see God, and we know full well we are not. Purgatory means that we can be purified and purged after death, and thus come to see God. We cannot be sure of salvation, but we can be sure of the mercy of God.

**The former Emperor Louis Napoleon and Empress Eugenie (and their son the Prince Imperial who died in the Anglo-Zulu war, lived in exile in England after France lost the Franco-Prussian War. She had the mausoleum and monastery of St. Benedict's Abbey built, with monks from the Abbey of Solesmes in France. More info here.

Today particularly I am remembering my father who died five years ago this summer--today is his birthday. May he rest in the peace of Christ with all the souls of the faithful departed!

The Fifth of November: Is It Time to Forgive and Forget?

Britain Magazine reflects on the Fifth of November and the burning of the "Guy": is it time for forgive and forget?

The classic rhyme “Remember, remember the fifth of November” features one of the few dates that stick in the collective imagination from our school days. As the headmaster of Guy Fawkes’s old school in York has recently pointed out, the man found by guards underneath the Houses of Parliament with 36 barrels of gunpowder in early hours of 5 November 1605 is “a global brand. Most people with an appreciation of English culture know something about him.”

Arguing in the The Daily Telegraph that it is time for us to forgive St Peter’s School’s most famous alumnus and to stop burning effigies of the guy on bonfires, Leo Winkley suggests that the custom encourages religious intolerance.

There are some surprising twists to the familiar story of Guy Fawkes. For example, while James I was, in fact, the son of a famous Catholic, Mary, Queen of Scots, Fawkes was born in 1570 into a largely Protestant family (although his maternal grandparents were ‘recusant’ Catholics, who refused to attend Protestant services). However, Guy’s stepfather, Dionis Baynbrigge, whom his mother married after the death of his father in 1578, seems to have affected Fawkes’s convictions – Guy converted to Catholicism as a teenager – and thus the course of his life.

Guy and his fellow Catholic plotters were disappointed by James I’s lack of sympathy for their cause. After the long reign of Protestant Queen Elizabeth I, English Catholics were optimistic that the new king would herald change. During Elizabeth’s reign, and particularly after the Spanish Armada, Catholics had suffered persecution: they were forbidden to hear Mass and compelled to attend Anglican services, with steep fines for recusants who refused. However, despite positive signs at the beginning of James’s reign, the discovery of two small Catholic plots in 1603 and an ill-fated conference at Hampton Court in 1604 meant that by February that year the new king went as far as to announce his ‘utter detestation’ of Catholicism. Within days, all priests and Jesuits had been expelled and recusancy fines reintroduced.

Leo Winkley's comments in The Daily Telegraph include:

“Burning a Guy is likely to be seen as an expression of religious intolerance at worst or more likely, an inexplicable historical throwback,” he said. “Consider this: how would we explain it to a seven year old? If we're not comfortable explaining it, we shouldn't do it! Most people call it bonfire night. Time to move on and let the poor soul rest.”

Mr Winkley added: “He was hung, drawn and quartered. That was the full force of the law at his time.”

Fawkes, who with a group of English Catholics who planned to assassinates King James I and restore a Catholic monarch to the throne, has become a symbol of dissent in recent years – his image adopted by activists who wear masks of his face to hide their identity.

Mr Winkley said Fawke’s legacy still had the power to divide.

“It’s debatable whether he was a freedom fighter or a terrorist. Those who argue he was a freedom fighter would say he grew up in a time when about one per cent of the population was openly Catholic and he was therefore part of a persecuted minority,” he said.

“On the other hand, nobody could approve of the act of trying to blow up the instrument of democracy. One can’t condone it even 400 or so years on. You could argue that he’s an icon of the complex and flawed nature of human beings.”

Sometimes the Pope is burned in effigy too; that practice should certainly cease!

Why We Study History

Anna Whitelock writes for the BBC History Magazine:

Has there ever been a better or more important time to study history? The past is alive, dynamic, controversial and hugely relevant. History is constantly being written and rewritten, contested and reinterpreted. History is more than simply looking backwards and studying the past – it is also about critically engaging with the present and the future. It is about individuals, families, nations and the global community.

A history degree is not just for those who want to be professional historians – it is for anyone who is curious about the world around them and who wants to be a critically engaged citizen. It is, in fact, one of the most versatile subjects you can choose to study. Facts and dates are merely the basic building blocks. Historical study teaches us to think critically, analytically and creatively, to read and interpret all kinds of information, to evaluate opinions and to write persuasively. . . .

The study of history is so much more than learning about kings, queens and governments; it is also about societies all across the world and how people have lived over the centuries. It is about justice and injustice, innovation and continuity, freedom and repression. It is about race and religion, ideas and beliefs, about travel, exploration and discovery, about medicine, sex and death, about architecture and art, literature and music. It is, in short, about life. To be a historian is to be questioning, to have a vivid imagination and an insatiable curiosity.

In publishing and in broadcasting, history is a phenomenon that continues to exceed expectations; television shows, films, books, plays and computer games attest to the huge public appetite for all things historical.

She then discusses the challenges of digital communication and social media. Read the rest here.

Shakespeare and At Least One Poor Soul: King Hamlet

You might recall the Ghost's speeches from Shakespeare's Hamlet, in which Hamlet's father, King Hamlet, describes his soul's suffering in Purgatory:

I am thy father's spirit,
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confined to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

You may watch the scene from Olivier's film of Hamlet. The Ghost ends his message with the plea: Remember me!

Stephen Greenblatt (author of the unfortunate The Swerve) wrote about Shakespeare's references to the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory in England after the Reformation:

In Hamlet in Purgatory, renowned literary scholar Stephen Greenblatt delves into his longtime fascination with the ghost of Hamlet's father, and his daring and ultimately gratifying journey takes him through surprising intellectual territory. It yields an extraordinary account of the rise and fall of Purgatory as both a belief and a lucrative institution--as well as a capacious new reading of the power of Hamlet.

In the mid-sixteenth century, English authorities abruptly changed the relationship between the living and dead. Declaring that Purgatory was a false "poem," they abolished the institutions and banned the practices that Christians relied on to ease the passage to Heaven for themselves and their dead loved ones. Greenblatt explores the fantastic adventure narratives, ghost stories, pilgrimages, and imagery by which a belief in a grisly "prison house of souls" had been shaped and reinforced in the Middle Ages. He probes the psychological benefits as well as the high costs of this belief and of its demolition.

With the doctrine of Purgatory and the elaborate practices that grew up around it, the church had provided a powerful method of negotiating with the dead. The Protestant attack on Purgatory destroyed this method for most people in England, but it did not eradicate the longings and fears that Catholic doctrine had for centuries focused and exploited. In his strikingly original interpretation, Greenblatt argues that the human desires to commune with, assist, and be rid of the dead were transformed by Shakespeare--consummate conjurer that he was--into the substance of several of his plays, above all the weirdly powerful Hamlet. Thus, the space of Purgatory became the stage haunted by literature's most famous ghost.

This book constitutes an extraordinary feat that could have been accomplished by only Stephen Greenblatt. It is at once a deeply satisfying reading of medieval religion, an innovative interpretation of the apparitions that trouble Shakespeare's tragic heroes, and an exploration of how a culture can be inhabited by its own spectral leftovers.

Greenblatt references St. Thomas More's The Supplication of Souls, More's answer to Simon Fish's A Supplication for Beggars, often throughout Hamlet in Purgatory. Greenblatt must also address the possibility that William Shakespeare was at least secretly or culturally a Catholic, because the playwright brings up Purgatory and prayer for the dead throughout Hamlet after Purgatory and prayer for the dead had long been expunged from English life. Shakespeare remembered the dead; he recalled to his audience the practices of years and years ago--not just in Hamlet. Henry V has prayers said for the soul of Richard II and prays before the battle of Agincourt that his father's fault not interfere with the success of the battle:

O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred anew;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
Than from it issued forced drops of blood:
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Remember me, King Hamlet's Ghost implores. Remember us, St. Thomas More's poor souls called out during Henry VIII's reign as attacks on prayer for the Poor Souls in Purgatory began. More reminded his readers that forgetting the Poor Souls was forgetting ourselves: we may one day be such. TCM recently broadcast Young Bess again: it contains Henry VIII's death bed scene in which he asked for prayers for his soul. Edward "Ned" Seymour protests that Henry has abolished Purgatory in England! Henry knows he needs prayers, Masses, and suffrages all the same. Of course, he did not get them.

Our Lady's Lutheran Church

Julia M. Klein writes in The Wall Street Journal about the re-building of Dresden's "Church of Our Lady", the famous Lutheran church built on the site of a Catholic Romanesque church which had been built in the 12th century. I am interested in the article because Klein emphasizes that the church embraces history instead of trying to deny it; it was not rebuilt exactly as it was before World War II:

The architecture of contemporary German cities can inspire a trompe-l’oeil confusion of the old and the new. Leveled by Allied bombs during World War II, many picturesque town centers have since been meticulously rebuilt, with only their perfection signaling their inauthenticity. Dresden’s restored Frauenkirche, which on Oct. 30 marks the 10th anniversary of its consecration, has avoided this trap—by embracing rather than erasing history.

The Baroque, octagonal “Church of Our Lady,” where Johann Sebastian Bach once played the organ, has always been central to the city’s image. Designed by George Bähr and completed in 1743, the Lutheran church retained the name of the Gothic Catholic one it replaced. Its outstanding feature—a soaring, pillared dome nicknamed the “Stone Bell”—dominated the city’s skyline and symbolized its artistic splendor.

On Feb. 13, 1945, Dresden was firebombed by the Allies, and two days later the Frauenkirche collapsed. The destruction of Dresden became central to German postwar victimology and was memorialized by Kurt Vonnegut in his 1969 novel, “Slaughterhouse-Five.”

The church was rebuilt ten years ago and has a mission of providing, as the church's website notes, both warning and encouragement:

In the light of the injuries received during the war, largely still visible for all to see, the reconstructed Church of our Lady in Dresden issues a warning, but at the same time also announces the power of a new beginning and of peace. The aspects of remembering, reconciliation and peace create the backdrop and atmosphere for the daily life within the Church of our Lady. As part of the Church of the Cross community, the Church of our Lady feels a strong obligation to tend the special relationship to Coventry Cathedral and its reconciliation, as well as to cooperate with the other Church of the Cross communities both at home and abroad.

Klein provides some details about the "aspects of remembering, reconciliation and peace" built into the new church:

Meticulous as the reconstruction has been—the altar was almost entirely pieced together from shards of the original—there are deliberate reminders that this is not the prewar church. On the altar is a newly forged Cross of Nails, a link to a similar cross at the rebuilt cathedral in Coventry, England, destroyed by German bombers in 1940. The pillars alongside the altar, displaying wartime damage, are missing the angel-head carvings visible elsewhere.

The church’s old pinnacle cross, charred and twisted, sits in the south nave, where visitors may light a memorial candle and inscribe their thoughts. The gilded cross—an exact replica—that now crowns the bell tower was a gift from Britain, fashioned by Alan Smith, the son of one of the bombers of Dresden.

I was disappointed however to see this inaccuracy on the church's website when discussing the name Frauenkirche:

The name "Frauenkirche", which literally translates as "(Our) Lady's church", is by no means unusual: You will find a Frauenkirche or Liebfrauenkirche in around 100 cities throughout Germany, including Meißen, Munich, Nuremberg and Bremen.

They can also be found in other European countries such as Belgium or France, where they are called "Notre Dame", or "Our Lady", and refer to Mary, the mother of Jesus.

The original name of the Dresden Frauenkirche was ‘Unserer Lieben Frauen’, which dates back to the time the church was founded in the Middle Ages. The name was shortened over time to ‘Frauenkirche’ and even retained after the Reformation despite the fact that the Protestant Church knows no adoration of the Virgin Mary.

Thus, a "Frauenkirche" is a church that has been or is consecrated in honour of the Virgin Mary.

It is intriguing that they didn't change the name when they replaced the old Catholic Church, but I think the choice of the word "adoration" is unfortunate. Catholics don't adore the Virgin Mary, and Martin Luther certainly honored the Virgin Mary as the Mother of God and he upheld the doctrine of her Perpetual Virginity, but of course, he rejected any theology of her as a mediatrix of grace. This article provides some careful explanation. 

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