Meditations on Redcrosse

Redcrosse is part St. George celebration (and so celebration of England) and part Anglican liturgy. It is a liturgical meditation on English identity and history based on Edmund Spenser’s (c.1552-99) The Faerie Queen and the mythology of St. George, the patron saint of England. It allows for public meditation on what England and Englishness are in a way designed to stimulate thought and counteract propaganda; in a way removed from any party political agendas or racism. It is not accidental that St. George is also the patron saint of Aragon, Catalonia, Ethiopia, Georgia, Greece, Lithuania, Montenegro, Palestine, Portugal, Russia and Serbia [Ewan Fernie, Michael Symmons Roberts, Andrew Shanks and Jo Shapcott, Redcrosse liturgy, 3. All further references will be paranthetical in the text. The liturgy was celebrated at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, on 17/03/11 and at Manchester Cathedral on 08/08/11.]. Or that he is ‘honoured by Muslims, as ‘Al Khidr’, and by Jews, as ‘Eliyahu ha Navi’.’ (3) Nor is accidental that the giant Catalonian figures created for the liturgy have George as a black man in a football shirt. The symbolism is meant to reclaim Englishness from its associations with football hooliganism and to subvert racist nationalism. Its thoughtful nature, which includes significant amounts of apophatic theology (unusual in public liturgy), is meant to undermine the dangerous forms of religious nationalism that the secular modus vivendi so rightly wishes to contain and curtail. Any kind of linkage of national identity and religion could seem prima facie alarming, precisely because of the reactionary social conservatism or outright violence it can so often involve. So this is a risk, but a risk worth taking for at least three reasons. First, it is extremely unlikely in secular Britain 2011 that any form of Christian religious nationalism will gain sufficient social or political power to cause any actual violence. Second, to the extent that socially conservative Christian religious forces do gain political traction it is all the more important for there to be an alternative Christian voice speaking up for thoughtfulness and against propaganda. Third, the issues of religion, civic life and national identity cannot be separated and so must be thought about. How should religious people think of their national identity? And why shouldn’t this be addressed in religious liturgy?A good example of the anti-propaganda nature of the liturgy is the elaboration of Blake’s critique of the Establishment in the introduction: ‘The Church of England being part of the Establishment, he would have seen this event as taking place within such a [satanic] ‘mill’.’ (3) The liturgy’s introduction therefore explicitly invites critique of Christianity. It is, furthermore, a newly composed liturgy, which includes not just new poetry but new music and art. [The music was primarily jazz, the improvisational musical form par excellence, which, whether intended or not, symbolizes nicely the improvisational nature of any understanding of Christianity and civic identity. (For an interesting reflection on the relationship between jazz and the Christian notion of tradition see J. Kameron Carter’s comments here: http://jkameroncarter.com/?p=787. Accessed 09/05/11). Tim Garland, the composer, composed both new music and music that incorporated subtly altered hymn melodies and the liturgical phrases ‘Lord have mercy,’ and ‘Kyrie eleison’.] The Catalonian giants were built by homeless people working with a charity in the Cathedral itself, which symbolizes the liturgy’s focus on a passion for renewal in places of urban deprivation, its openness to other cultures, and its recognition of the rightful multivalency of St. George (and symbols in general). Writing new liturgies itself embodies a certain ethos and theology; in this case one that attempts to be open to the lessons of history (it is dialectical) and open to the involvement of people of other confessions (including atheists) as having something to teach the church. In short, writing new liturgies is a way of recognising that the church is not and has not always been right, that it needs to learn, and that the Christian task is not simply to repeat past behaviours and linguistic formulations but to take up the responsibility of creating new meanings and praxis.

Andrew Shanks has written in Civil Society, Civil Religion of the need for liturgy to be indigenous in the sense of working through those historical memories that are most live for a particular culture or nation. One of the ways Redcrosse tries to build on English history is by incorporating the elements of the forest, air, water and fire into its symbolism. The four elements could be seen to echo the Celtic Christianity that existed in Britain before it was replaced by the Roman form. This Celtic Christianity was more in touch with nature, understood as creation. Indeed, the forest section of the liturgy and its corresponding canticle could be seen as beginning to recuperate some of what was lost when Druidism, with its sacred groves, was marginalised by Christianity. Air (wind/breath/spirit/pneuma), water and fire all have Christian resonances as well, of course, whilst wood principally recalls the cross within the Christian imaginary. By having four elements, the authors are able to make a link between them (as perhaps encompassing all of life) with the four sections of the English flag. This in turn is connected to the red cross of the flag, which is taken to symbolize blood: ‘our own lifeblood, not earned but given us; and of God’s blood’ (15). This blood refers as well to St. George’s wounds in the fight with the dragon, based on one of Spenser’s wounded knights falling into a pool of water but thereby gaining the strength to fight on.

The use of Spenser’s poem enables a vital conceptual and political shift. ‘Spenser’s particular contribution…is to make St. George…a symbol of spiritual life as an unceasing, restless, troubled yet hopeful, quest for holiness’ (3). Following Spenser, the quest is a major theme of the liturgy, which is physically enacted in travelling around to the four elemental stations. Yet what is most significant, in my view, is the re-fashioning of holiness into a form of spirituality concerned with national and civic life, with the attempts to counter propaganda and ideology through thoughtfulness and an apophatic sensibility. Holiness has often been seen as an individual concern with an inward morality, and it is not surprising that ‘holiness churches’ have not always avoided sectarian tendencies. Redcrosse seeks to avoid this danger by understanding the question for holiness (which is in fact an important aspect of Jewish and Christian scripture) as a quest for maximum thoughtfulness and engagement with civic life.

The quality of writing was very high. The musical composition and performance (by Acoustic Triangle and the Choir of Royal Holloway College) was excellent. Redcrosse was a very affecting experience that I will continue to reflect on. I would appreciate comments as an aid to further reflection and conversation.

Ewan Fernie’s demonic brilliance

As I mentioned earlier, on Tuesday I attended a lecture by Prof. Fernie on the demonic in modern literature and culture. At first I was puzzled by the form of the leture but the more I’ve thought about it the more I’ve come to appreciate it. There was no single argument being put together in the usual philosophica mode. Instead the lecture comprised two unequally long sections. The first was a very compressed survey of some demonic themes  in modern European high culture. The range covered was very impressive: literature, philosphy, music. Fernie made a brilliant  observation that the Augustinian tradition has understood evil and the demonic in terms of privation and non-being and that modern individuality understands itself as negation and separation and that there is a strong parallel to be pursued here. He will do this in his forthcoming book on this topic (with Routledge in a year or two). The second, longer section was an exposition-interpretation of Coetzee’s novel about Dostoevsky. What was so striking about this section  was the existential wisdom Fernie displayed. Remarkable. This must be part of his seeking ‘a more experientially honest and intense way of doing and writing criticism. ‘ I’d say he’s succeeding sof ar. I’ll be sure to blog more about the book when it comes out. In the meantime, on May 8th at Manchester Cathedral, Prof. Fernie will be present at a creative liturgical event being hosted that includes new compositions by Tim Garland.