The pipe organ.
The altar.
Well, I'm a cradle Episcopalian, know the regular services by heart, am a Eucharistic Minister (carry the chalice), am a reader, am on Altar Guild. So part of my touristing is to visit local churches, if they are open. Sadly, even English villages now have to keep their churches closed unless someone is present. Luckily, some were open. And some I visited for services. I take photos when I'm a tourist, but not when I'm a congregant.
On our Jackson Bridge walk, we found Holy Trinity in Hepworth open. It's a small church, made even smaller to turn the back of the nave into a narthex and sort of tot room. But it's lovely. We were glad it seemed to be cleaning day.
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The pipe organ. |
The altar. |
When we took the bus to Huddersfield, we visited the much grander Saint Peter's church. It's near the big open market and just off the mall with all it's shopping. So this church is a nice, quiet refuge.
The nave and altar. |
The empty Easter tomb. |
And we escaped the tourist hordes in Castleton by visiting Saint Edmund's church. I love that almost flat ceiling.
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But it's a sort of leap of my faith to walk into a strange church and take part in a service. So attending Sunday services at two different churches during our fortnight in Holmfirth meant deep breaths and guts.
The parish of Holmfirth has 8 churches, one for each village that isn't "chapel" - Methodist. Somehow, villages have either a Church of England church or a Methodist chapel. Anyhow, that means each little village has its own church - and a village is usually about 10-30 clustered houses, some farms, a little store with a post office, and a pub. Most everyone walks to church - handy because these villages certainly predate cars - and parking lots. So these are small gatherings on Sunday. And a strange Yank (and I am a strange Yankee) stands out.
On April 29, I went to Holy Trinity, at Victoria Square in the center of Holmfirth. I knew it was to be "Upper Room" and would be quite informal from having emailed the Holmfirth parish. Ain't the Web wonderful?
The Upper Room is the Sunday school room - upstairs from the nave, with a horseshoe of tables and maybe 30 people milling around, including about 5 kids. And a few people in the attached kitchen. It was breakfast! But with a sort of service. The churchwarden (sort of like our senior warden, I think) gave me a tour of the downstairs, with details about the altar and how the usual services ran. He introduced me upstairs. They made me feel part of their church family. I think I was introduced to every family there. I was even seated next to the vicar. We drank our orange juice. Then a small silver band (brass, to non-Brits) played a hymn. Then there was a dramatic reading of the gospel by seated parishioners. And really brief sermon, another hymn with the band, and the intercessions. Then, we each wrote the name or names of those for whom we wanted special prayers onto cut-out fish - and tossed the fish into a net that was draped between the tables. The gospel had been the one where Jesus told Peter and crew where to fish, then had a fish BBQ. Instead of a Communion service, the vicar raised a basket with two loaves of fresh bread. He broke a piece off each loaf and handed the piece to those of us on his right and left, saying, "The bread of life." We each ate our piece, broke one off, and handed it to the next person, with the same greeting. It was as moving as our Maundy Thursday foot washing. Another hymn with the band. Then they settled in for scrambled eggs. I thanked them and left, having had a full English breakfast beforehand. But wishing I'd known so I could stay.
The next Sunday, I went to Saint John's, in Upperthong, where Compo (Bill Owen) is buried.
I met the churchwarden and his wife at the lychgate. I was pleasantly surprised when, as sort of part of the sermon, the 5-10 Sunday school kids came out and presented their interpretation of the Gospel, in which Peter was shown animals that he would not normally eat, They had drawn giraffes, whales, lemurs…to toss onto a blue "ocean" blanket. When we passed the Peace, the vicar greeted me by name. No, not the same one from Holmfirth. They each serve several churches. The churchwarden had told the vicar that I was visiting. Wow, it sure made me feel at home. And, after the service, a woman came over because we had met on a footpath when she and her daughter were walking their dog. Once again, everyone seemed to come over to chat after the service.
The friendly, open, welcoming spirit of all the people at both churches made my vacation. I was a stranger, and they welcomed me and took me in as one of them. I felt at home.
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