By Canon James Mustard
In September, I had the privilege, with other Precentors of England and Wales, of visiting Rome, meeting Vatican officials in ecumenism and worship, and having an audience with the Pope.
Clearly, the Vatican is a diplomatic class act: they have an array of facts and anecdotes at their disposal to charm and make you feel, in every sense, at home. Indeed, seeing the burial place, indeed probably the very bones, of St Peter our Patron, only discovered in the 1950s far underneath St Peter’s Basillica, was one of many, remarkable experiences of “homecoming”.
It was shared with us that the very first recorded permanent diplomatic mission from one nation to another was on the Vatican Hill, the Schola Saxonum, founded by King Ine of the West Saxons in 727; in Rome it was called the “Borgo”, a corruption of the Saxon “Burg” or ‘town”. For context, it was Ine who defeated the last Celic King of Devon in 710. At the Borgo, the many pilgrims to Rome from the South of England could find shelter and rest under the protection of the King of Wessex. We were told this was a privilege granted by the Pope, as the English Church was, and still is, seen to be one of Rome’s most successful missionary ventures, led by Augustine of Canterbury: re-converting and unifying a nation, and growing such missionary giants as Saints Willibrorod of Northumbria and Boniface of Crediton. Today, La Chiesa di Santo Spiritu in Sassia (the Church of the Holy Spirit of the Saxon District) stands on its site.
It’s a reminder that our ancient ancestors, our predecessors here, had experience of the world, were well-travelled, understood their place within the geopolitics of the eighth, ninth and tenth centuries, and were well-equipped to understand the challenges of multi-culturalism. For, while big names such as Sidwell and Boniface (called Winfrith in his youth) were Saxons, they still lived among Brythonic Celts, the rump of the Dumnoni Tribe. In this city, Celts lived in the area behind St Bartholomew Street called “Little Britain” until 928 when King Athelstan expelled them, driving the “West Welsh” across the Tamar into Cornwall.
One of the only artefacts from this Saxon culture to survive the Norman Conquest is the Exeter Book, given to the Cathedral in 1072, the largest of only four non-liturgical books in all of England, not destroyed as part of the brutal cultural suppression by the Normans. Can you imagine? Our entire literary culture lost except for four books? The Exeter Book is a reminder that England pre-conquest was far from the “Dark Ages”: it was a time of flourishing art and literature, education, travel, cosmopolitanism and cultural exchange. All of it lost. Thankfully, after only 950 years, the Exeter Book is on public display in our new Treasures Gallery.
The Exeter Book is not a religious book for use in Church, though some of its poems and prose draw upon religious themes. The first sections of the book are called Christ I, II and III, with poems reflecting upon Advent, Ascensiontide and Judgement respectively. Below is one of the Advent poems, a reflection upon the Advent Antiphon “O Emmanuel”, the first verse of the well-known hymn “O come O come Emmanuel”.
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Advent Lyric Christ I
“O Come Emmanuel”
Old English
Eala gæsta god, hu þu gleawlice
mid noman ryhte nemned wære
Emmanuhel, swa hit engel gecwæð
ærest on Ebresc. þæt is eft gereht,
rume bi gerynum: “Nu is rodera weard,
God sylfa, mid us.” Swa þæt gomele gefyrn
ealra cyninga cyning ond þone clænan eac
sacerd soðlice sægdon toweard,
swa se mæra iu, Melchisedech,
gleaw in gæste godþrym onwrah
eces alwaldan. Se wæs æ bringend,
lara lædend, þam longe his
hyhtan hidercyme, swa him gehaten wæs,
þætte sunu meotudes sylfa wolde
gefælsian foldan mægðe,
swylce grundas eac gæstes mægne
siþe gesecan. Nu hie softe þæs
bidon in bendum hwonne bearn godes
cwome to cearigum. Forþon cwædon swa,
suslum geslæhte: “Nu þu sylfa cum,
heofones heahcyning. Bring us hælolif,
werigum witeþeowum, wope forcymenum,
bitrum brynetearum. Is seo bot gelong
eal æt þe anum …… oferþearfum.
Hæftas hygegeomre hider …es;
ne læt þe behindan, þonne þu heonan cyrre,
mænigo þus micle, ac þu miltse on us
gecyð cynelice, Crist nergende,
wuldres æþeling, ne læt awyrgde ofer us
onwald agan. Læf us ecne gefean
wuldres þines, þæt þec weorðien,
weoroda wuldorcyning, þa þu geworhtes ær
hondum þinum. þu in heannissum
wunast wideferh mid waldend fæder.”
Modern English
O God of spirits, how wisely you were
with a rightful name named
Emmanuel, as the angel said
first in Hebrew. That is, interpreted
freely according to its hidden meaning: “Now the heavens’ Guardian,
God himself, is with us.” So the men of ancient times
the King of all Kings and the pure
Priest also truly prophesied;
so the glorious Melchisedech of old,
wise in spirit, unveiled the divine majesty
of the eternal All-wielder. He was the bringer of law,
the leader-in of learning, to those who long
had hoped for his coming here, as it had been promised to them,
that the Son of the Lord himself would
purify the people of earth,
and by the strength of his spirit also would journey
to seek the depths. Now they patiently
waited in fetters for when the Son of God
would descend to the desolate. And so they spoke,
weakened by torments: “Come now yourself,
high King of heaven! Bring healing life to us,
weary slaves in prison, overcoming by weeping,
bitter briny tears. The cure for our great need
depends on you, entirely and alone.
Seek out the sorrowful captives here,
do not leave behind so great a multitude
at your return to the heavens, but show mercy to us
in kingly manner, Saviour Christ,
Prince of Glory; do not let the accursed ones
possess power over us! Leave to us the eternal joy
of your glory, so that they may honour you,
glorious King of hosts, whom once you
fashioned with your hands. You dwell on high
for ever with the Ruler and Father.”
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It’s a poem of two halves. First, it’s within a grand, prophetic tradition; the author is pleased to note the ancient Hebrew origins of Emmanuel. Then, the mysterious priest-king Melchisedek, the giver of law and order setting the scene for God to be with us in his son, and us awaiting his arrival and purification: it sets a high bar for Kings and Priests. Languages, Biblical History, the Human Condition all expressed.
Then, the hinge: “Now they wait patiently…” all the grandiose action of the first half comes to an abrupt halt. That was historical then, this is now: weakened in torments, imprisoned, weeping with bitter, briney tears bitrum brynetearum. Seek out the sorrowful, show mercy, avoid the influence of accursed ones, take us to eternal joy in heaven. The frequent use of alliteration, in every phrase almost, throughout the second half emphasises our breathless yearning: Hæftas hygegeomre hider “seek out [us] sorrowful captives”.
It’s almost Platonic: on the one hand the perfection of history, and on the other, us waiting in a pale shadow of what might be possible. Our Advent waiting is an opportunity to reflect not just upon the past but upon the future to which we are called. And while we can rest upon the laurels of the past, what we do in the here and now really matters, for it is upon the here and now that we shall be judged.
So, may we in this Advent season, reflect upon the past, ready ourselves for the future, and be attentive to those around us. For it is upon that, rather than our grasp of history, that we shall be judged.
