And in that part of mind where I am youngest,
Sumac bleeds and crimson cracks like thunder
through maples incandescent with the reason
there are no red leaves this yellow season,
and I, admiring Magdalene Tower, wonder 
how the age has scraped Christ’s blood from everything.

This is the first stanza of a poem by Paris Leary from Shreveport, Louisiana, a priest, poet, and English professor at Bard College at Annandale, NY. Paris was also a cherished friend of my parents when he came as a young priest, fresh out of General Seminary, as a curate at St. George’s Church, Schenectady.

In this poem, he is lamenting the increasing secularization which was descending on the western world in the late 1950’s. In the midst of the post war surge in Church attendance, he perceived a faith of convenience and not of the heart.

He grieves the loss of a “Christian world,” which has grown cold to Christ and the Christian inheritance. Even in Oxford, the city of spires and ancient monastic foundations, it seems “Christ’s blood has been scraped from everything.” The ancient stones and altars ceased to evoke a living faith.

Have you felt that nostalgia yourself, for another, more faith-filled time? I can get in touch with this longing in myself, walking the streets around our Salisbury Hotel, named after saints who laid down everything to walk with Christ and societies that were structured around the rhythms of frequent worship.

But “the ages of faith” we sometimes long for had their deep flaws, too. You used to have to have your Vicar certify that you were a church-going Anglican who would swear to the Articles of Religion in the Prayerbook to be admitted to an Oxford College. The poet and priest John Donne, who held London spellbound preaching at Paul’s Cross, had to submit to the Church of England before he could advance in his career. 

The “ages of faith” were often intolerant, exclusive, filled with cruelty, colonialism, racism, and inquisition. We would not wish to return there. But the Good News is we don’t have to “go back” if we wish to encounter God 

Episcopalians believe in the Real Presence (spelled with a capital “R” and “P”). This means, in the Sacrament, as in life itself, we believe, “Jesus is Really There, in the Present!” as he promised, though we don’t define how. 

Thus, God contradicts our religious nostalgia. Christ isn’t found by returning to a mythical “golden age of faith.” His last promise is: Lo, I am with you always, all days, until the end of time (Mt 28:20). We don’t need to go back, we need to go forward, with eyes and heart wide open.

City of Chapels and Colleges

John, our bus driver, picked us up at 9 a.m. and drove us up the M4 to Oxford. Tom Stockwell, our friend and guide, met us and gave us a one-hour walking tour. He led us through the charming gardens and meadow walk, right next to Christ Church Cathedral, which also serves as the chapel of the Christ Church College.

We cut left and saw the elegant tower of Magdeline (pronounced “Maudlin”) College. Tom told us that on May Day singers from the chapel choirs stand in the tower and sing madrigals. A huge crowd gathers for this annual event. 

Tom explained that there are almost 39 colleges which make up Oxford, each a “mini-university” with its own faculty (“dons”). Students read for their courses and meet with their tutors. But all the exams are administered in one building, which has served this purpose for centuries.

Students take their exams with an academic robe on. When seniors complete this process for the last time, they exit the building and are met by their friends who “trash” their gowns by throwing flour, mud, eggs, just anything to celebrate! 

We had a welcome stop at a public rest room, adjacent to a bustling marketplace. Then, we snaked our way along bustling sidewalks to the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin. Jen, Liz, and I dropped out to visit this church because of its significance.

In this pulpit, at a university-wide service on July 14, 1833, John Keble delivered a fiery sermon called “National Apostasy.” It caused a sensation. It is widely considered to have launched the “High Church” Oxford Movement. At first, it was a defense of the Church as a Divine Institution and gift of God, and not merely a department of state. But the Oxford Movement ultimately led to liturgical innovations which we take for granted today: candles on the altar, processional crosses, vestments on choirs, chasubles on priests, and the centrality of the Eucharist.

We stayed for an excellent lunch at the St. Mary’s cafe, eating in the garden until the bees began to circle enthusiastically around our desserts of scones with cream and strawberry jam.

In the afternoon, we went on the “Harry Potter” tour, led by a well-prepared and vivacious young person. She narrated many wonderful tales about college life, including past college pranks. She showed us the places in New College where scenes in Harry Potter movies were filmed.

And she waxed poetic on how the author’s experience at Oxford shaped the imaginative Harry Potter saga, from secret passes between buildings to the scar on Harry Potter’s head (which is on a sidewalk).

We met everyone back at the bus at 6 p.m., exchanging our own views of the Oxford Colleges and dozing on the two-hour ride back to Salisbury.

Good night and be well, friends near and far,

Greg+