Religious bits and bobs

The summer solstice

Have never yet got around to marking the summer solstice in any way, despite being in a prime position for doing so given that Milton Keynes was allegedly set out along a ley line (I am of course sceptical about the actual existence of these, but do find the concept rather fun). Midsummer Boulevard was allegedly constructed to align with the sun on the summer solstice, as mentioned in this Guardian piece published in June: Beyond Stonehenge: the cities built to celebrate the sun.

The historian Tom Holland, whom Ruth came across accidentally on Twitter while trying to locate the actor Tom Hollander, but now follows after discovering she liked his tweets, posted this pic of the sun rising over Midsummer Boulevard on 21 June this year. Far out.

Tweet from @holland_tom

Midsummer Boulevard is the middle of MK’s three central boulevards. Apparently there was a bit of a kick up a few years ago when the ‘Midsummer Place’ shopping centre (it’s now been rebranded ‘intu Milton Keynes’) was plonked in the middle of it, cutting it in two – it’s no longer a through road. There is actually a gap between the newer shopping centre and the older, listed, one.

Whitsun/Whitsuntide

Following earlier comments on this, I asked my parents about it. Both recalled the custom of the Whitsun Treat on Whit Monday, though evidently this wasn't something participated in by Catholics. Mum (raised C of E) remembered going on picnic outings with other children from her Sunday School. Dad (raised Catholic) observed glumly that being a Catholic he never got to go on any Whitsun picnics.

According to the internet, Whitsun is the Anglican term for Pentecost, which commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Christ’s apostles. It falls on the seventh Sunday after Easter (in 2018, Sunday 9 June). ‘Whitsun’ is short for Whitsunday, which in turn is a corruption of White Sunday. The Monday following – Whit Monday – was a public holiday up until 1967; it was replaced by the Spring Bank Holiday on the last Monday in May.

Eucharistic adoration

Not a feast day, but a Roman Catholic practice I only came across relatively recently. It seems to involve prolonged meditative staring at the consecrated host, which has been placed in something called a ‘monstrance’. I assume you’re supposed to spend the time praying, contemplating God’s glory or similar. Some orders of nuns – e.g. those at Tyburn Convent – practise ‘perpetual adoration’, which seems to be a round-the-clock rotation of adorers. Apparently the exposed host can’t be left on its own.

You can, if you are so minded, take part in live online Perpetual Adoration, as with Team Catholify's 'Adorecast', below.

Samhain 2018

As last year, Ray and I celebrated Samhain by lighting candles in memory of deceased family and friends.

Seasonal display

As an extra special touch, I was able to harvest two tiny home-grown pumpkins. I had left 2017’s mini-pumpkin in the garden at the house, thinking it would just naturally break down and return to the earth in time; instead it sprouted quite a sizeable plant that produced two new pumpkins. I thought this was marvellous, though Ruth didn’t quite see it the same way.

Pumpkin actually growing in the garden

I used one of the mini-pumpkins in my table centrepiece and gave the other one to Mum, who displayed it next to a larger pumpkin that Hannah had carved for her for Hallowe’en.

The Christian nativity

Very impressed at my niece Nia playing the role of Mary in her school nativity this year, as I think I was only ever third angel from the left or similar. Hazel published some phone footage of the play to the family WhatsApp group, including some shared by Joseph’s parents, who had got well stuck in up close to the stage, thereby capturing close-up footage of their son adjusting his costume for much of the performance. Nia appeared a model of professionalism, though did seem to turn to the audience and smirk slightly when Joseph fell down in a dead faint on hearing she was with child. As the whole thing was in Welsh I’ve no idea what was said but assume it followed the usual pattern.

Speaking to colleagues this year, I’ve been a bit puzzled by the range of characters who seem to have crept into school nativity plays. I remember these having a pretty stable line-up of Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, the Angel Gabriel and perhaps an innkeeper. However, Judith told me that her great-nephew had been cast as a pickpocket in his nativity play (I did ask whether the teacher doing it had perhaps confused the nativity story with Oliver!) and I’m sure someone else mentioned that her son had been cast as a robot. Are schools just using up whatever costumes come handy?

The winter solstice

Vivianne Crowley, in Principles of Paganism, says:

The Solstice is the nadir of the year, its lowest point in terms of daylight and energy, after which the year begins to turn.

The winter solstice occurs around 21st December and is the shortest day and longest night of the year. As with the summer solstice, I’ve never done a great deal to actually mark it, though have often fleetingly thought that I’d like to.

Crowley quotes a ninth century Irish poem:

In the deadness of winter, the spark of new life.
I have news for you:
the stag bells,
Winter snows,
Summer has gone,
wind high and cold.
Sun low, short its course,
sea running high.
Rust brown bracken, its shape lost,
the wild goose raises her accustomed cry.
Cold seizes the bird's wing;
season of ice:
this is my news.