Richard III Remembered With Embroidery

Yesterday the body of England's King Richard III was reburied in Leicester cathedral, over 500 years after his defeat and death at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Archaeologists found his makeshift first grave under a parking lot in 2012. (It's deliciously ironic how "found under a carpark" is now the phrase that must appear in all news coverage of a man who once wore a crown.) Although Shakespeare and history books have focused on Richard's bloody role in the War of the Roses, the proceedings this week were about his historical significance and also his vulnerable humanity.

Perhaps most poignantly, earlier this week Roman Catholic Cardinal Vincent Nichols said a special requiem mass for the dead king. A moment of remarkable Anglican-Catholic cooperation, it also symbolized how even the most powerful people on earth still need God's redemptive grace.

Better still, Cardinal Nichols wore an historic chasuble believed to be from Richard III's royal wardrobe. Dating to the late fifteenth century, the embroidered robe is now in the collection of former Catholic seminary Ushaw college. The UK Catholic Herald described its embroidery detail:

The Westminster Vestment is an example of Opus Anglicanum (English work), the rich, complex and beautiful works of ecclesiastical embroidery for which England was famous during the Middle Ages. It has been made from velvet cloths of tissue linked together with silver-gilt brocading thread, with the figures cut from coloured silks and attached to a golden background. The chasuble depicts the Crucified Christ with the Roman soldier Longinus expressing his belief that Jesus is the “Son of God”. It features depictions of St Nicholas, St Catherine and St Pancras, the teenage Roman martyr whose relics were brought to England by St Augustine of Canterbury.

Image via Catholic Herald

It's truly magnificent, and a great example of church vestments of its era. Velvet, metallic thread, and highly symbolic embroidered scenes are all hallmarks of opus anglicanum. The motif of angels collecting Christ's blood in chalices while He hangs on the cross is a particularly popular recurring image, emphasizing the Eucharist's connection to calvary.

Intricate chasubles and copes fell out of favor after the English Reformation. Centuries later, as I discovered in my master's thesis research, Anglicans and American Episcopalians would rediscover the beauty of medieval English needlework and try to replicate its prestige in their own churches. 

It's interesting how the black pall covering Richard's simple coffin while it was on view this week also featured embroidered figures, including a six-winged seraph. It appears that opus anglicanum has come full circle, once again an important element of royal religiosity in England. As Cardinal Nichols pointed out in his homily, Richard III lived and died as a Catholic, whatever his sins. While some of his successors would have cringed to see such liturgical ceremony, he would have acknowledged the symbolic significance of copes and chasubles.

Whether Richard and his Gilded Age imitators were using that liturgical beauty to pad their own egos is definitely possible. But in the end, everyone dies and ends up helpless under a liturgical cloth.    

Via Getty Images

Today opus anglicanum pieces are treasured artifacts in museums, including the V&A in London and from the same time period, like this elaborate velvet chasuble, at The Cloisters in New York City.If you ever visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art's castle on the upper West Side, be on the lookout for this velvet chasuble and other amazing vestments.

7 Starting Lent Quick Takes

1. As a New Orleanian, the Southern Baron firmly believes that revelry beforehand is a key part of preparing for Lent. One day we'll make it back to the Crescent City for Mardi Gras, but for now we hosted a party for church friends with lots of jambalaya.
   
2. Fat Tuesday ended up being a date night near Times Square. We celebrated junk food by eating dinner at Shake Shack and then killing time at the M&Ms store. At this three story temple to American sugar consumption you can get candies in every color decorated with personalized stamps, or buy everything from t-shirts to baking equipment. But no Jedi candy dispensers - they only carry Empire characters. 



If there's not enough candy for you,
you can go to their rival Hershey across the street. 

3. Then we saw Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart in Waiting for Godot, which turned out to be perfect for the night before Lent. The bare set was focused on an almost-dead tree, and we both loved catching all the crucifixion references. One of my favorite parts was at the beginning when the two leads debate the different Gospel narratives about the two thieves who died alongside Jesus. "One of the thieves was saved...It's a reasonable percentage."





View from the cheap seats. 

4. On Ash Wednesday we went to 7am Mass before work and got our #ashtags. This is mine after a full day of work. Every year this makes me realize how much I touch my face during the day.
   
   
   
   
5. I love how commuting into the city makes Ash Wednesday such a public holy day. The pastor of the Episcopal church in our town was giving out ashes at the train station. When I asked if I could take her picture, she said "Sure! Only if you take one with my phone too!" Then I told her about my vestment research, and she informed me her current purple chasuble was from Peru.
   
   
   
   
6. There were two other men in my office wearing ashes, and I only had three awkward "There's something on your face" conversations with strangers. My favorite was the young guy in my elevator on the way home. He gave me a concerned stare, and then shot a reproachful look to everyone else in the car.
   Kid: "Really? None of y'all gonna tell her? That she's got stuff on her face?"
   UPS Lady (rolls eyes): "C'mon, it's Ash Wednesday."
   Kid: "Oh, thank goodness. I was worried she ran into a chimney or something!"
   
7. One of my goals for Lent is to read more books and to review more Bible movies. On Tuesday our parish's young adult group is going to see Son of God. I will be sure to report back. In the meantime, here's my first post on Jesus movies if you're looking for some Lent viewing. 

Visit Jen at Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!

Rest In Peace, Peter O'Toole

He's led a long, full life, but it was still saddening to hear about Peter O'Toole's passing this weekend at age 81. I came to his films only recently, but just one brush with his astounding work is enough to make you a huge fan. With his delicious British diction and ethereal confidence, the man is a boss.

Really, if you've never seen Lawrence of Arabia, what are you doing with your life? Epic ambitious desert journeys are especially good viewing in snowy weather like this week's blustery days. I'm just saying. 

Peter O'Toole also gave not one, but two incredible performances as Henry Plantagenet, a king of England often overshadowed in historical narratives by his wife (Eleanor of Aquitaine), his sons (Richard the Lionheart and John), and the saint he had killed (Thomas Becket). O'Toole makes Henry II compelling, holding his own against Richard Burton in bromantic Becket and then Katherine Hepburn in The Lion in Winter. The second film is the ultimate depiction of family holiday drama and possibly the Southern Baron's favorite Christmas movie. You can bet we will fire up that DVD in the coming days.

"HA! What shall we hang, the holly or each other?"

Even though I live for British costume dramas, I actually first met Peter O'Toole through only his voice in a cartoon. He was the hard-nosed food critic in Ratatouille, back when Pixar made clever material culture reflections on the power of objects on memory and identity. He could make a voiceover about a rat cooking casserole with Janeane Garofalo sound like the most profound reflection on the meaning of art.

Towards the end of his life, O'Toole did small roles in a few religious films, such as the prophet Samuel in One Night With the King. Instead of the powerful monarch, he was a cleric challenging a corrupt government. (He still hacks a man apart off-camera, though, in that Esther movie, in case you forgot.) The most poignant of these was his role as Fr. Christopher in For Greater Glory, the story of the Cristero war in early 20th century Mexico. (Spoiler alert: basically everyone in this movie dies.) As political conflict is heating up, the humble Padre mentors a mischievous-but-goodhearted boy and then quietly goes to his martyrdom wearing black vestments. It's as if he's saying his own Requiem, offering himself to God's mercy.

KofC.org

Peter O'Toole's miscellaneous saintly cameos have fueled some speculation about his attitude towards the Church at the end of his life. Who knows? God understands the souls He created better than we can, that's for sure. So I'll say a prayer for Peter O'Toole's soul this week, and maybe one for Lawrence and Henry as well. Those men might still be finding their way home. 

7 Habemus Papam Quick Takes

1. Where were you when they announced the new Pope? My sister and I had a pact that whoever heard first would text the other. I was determined to keep up my streak of seeing Habemus Papam announcements live, even though there is no TV or video streaming access in my office. So when the words "White Smoke!" exploded across Facebook, I ran for my museum's education computer lab. I watched database training videos with the Vatican YouTube feed on in the background. The only other person in there was watching RuPaul's Drag Race and probably thought I was the biggest loser ever, but I don't care. 


2. To add to my earlier analogies, I realized that getting a new Pope is like when a new baby is born into a family. Even though you have no idea about this stranger's personality or talents, you love them immediately, and know without a doubt that they belong to you all. There is something about putting on the white cassock that makes a random cardinal instantly beloved.


3. Or maybe it's the adorable awkwardness. Did you ever notice how nervous a new Pope is at first? It's not like he's a presidential candidate who's been doing photo ops for months beforehand. At Benedict XVI's inaugural Mass eight years ago he looked super tense and unsure of how to bless the cheering crowds. 


4. So when Pope Francis came out on the balcony and just stood there, I thought "Oh no, he is scared to DEATH." But then he started smiling. And cracking jokes. And talking with his hands. How could we not fall in love? He's going to do just fine.
   
   

   

   L'Ossorvatore Romano

5. The Betrothed was educated by Jesuits in New Orleans, so of course he's overjoyed that the new pontiff comes from the Society of Jesus. Right now we're  both chuckling over all the Jesuit conspiracy theories coming out of the woodwork. We're also shaking our heads at the Rad Trad internet freak-outs that a Jesuit Pope will start teaching heresy and stripping churches of anything traditional.
   
6. With all this talk of humble simplicity and Cardinal Mahony crowing on Twitter about how glad he is to be "LOW Church" again, I have only one very silly concern - *whisper* I really hope the vestments aren't ugly.There is already an entire papal sacristy of beautiful liturgical treasures that give glory to God and were crafted in love and devotion. Papa Francis could "shop his closet" for years without spending a thing.  There's a great Downton Abbey reference in this situation.
   
7. Overall I am just thrilled, excited, and overjoyed with goosebumps going down my arms. You can be sure I'll be geeking out for the inaugural Mass on Tuesday, the feast of St. Joseph. We have a new shepherd, and he comes from the Americas. He rides the bus and doesn't put on airs. He took the name of a peacemaker saint, the man to whom Christ said "Rebuild my Church." There is much rebuilding to do, and I can't wait to see how Papa Francis does it.

Road Trip Quick Takes

Thanks as always to Jen at Conversion Diary for hosting this link-up.

 The Betrothed and I just spent the last three weeks of June on an epic road trip visiting many friends and relatives across the Central time zone. Here are some of the funny and interesting things we saw at each of our stops.

This is what it looks like when two nerds  revisit childhood road trips. 

1. A store along the highway in Tennessee proudly proclaimed, "JESUS IS LORD" and "WE BUY GUNS."


2. The tiny town of Morrisville, AL is only nine square blocks. It was cute, but not as much of a time warp as  my doctor's office Southern Living December 2009 made it out to be. 



Quaint, but overrated. 






Fathers' Day Mass at my future sister-in-law's Florida parish featured the "Knights of Columbus Chorale" - basically Dads in matching Knights polo shirts leading the hymns. Adorbs. 






My fiance took me to a bayou nature preserve outside New Orleans, where the air was thick with humidity and cicadas. The alligators were hiding from view, but we did see lizards, a million dragonflies, and a crawfish crawling around in the the dirt. He threatened us with his claws.






Don't worry little guy, we won't eat you. 






There are a ton of historic plantation houses down River Road outside New Orleans. Evergreen Plantation is still privately owned, and so not jammed with tourists. Hollywood has found them though - apparently Quentin Tarentino has been filming scenes for Django Unchaned there. We only saw intact slave cabins, though, no movie stars.






Can't begin to describe how seeing these buildings blew my nerdy mind. 





A bumper sticker on a truck outside Dallas informed us that "Kids who hunt and fish don't steal and deal." Ok then. 







While visiting grandparents in Chicago, I did some archival research of old family photos. Check out the fantastic vestments at my great uncle's diaconate ordination. (Rest in peace. Fr. Kevin.)

Seriously, check out that man-lace. 

I hope we come back soon, Chicagoland. 

Man is a giddy thing

It's Latare Sunday. How is it time to break out the rose vestments already? Didn't Lent just start? Almost every year around this time I start to worry that I don't feel penitential enough, that my Lent needs to be harder, that I should have piled on more things to give up. If I'm not miserable I must be doing something wrong. Does this ever happen to anyone else? I guess it's a sign that I need to involve God more in my thesis drudgery.

A nineteenth-century rose cope at St. Ignatius of Antioch, NYC

Brother #3 is turning 17. How has it been that long since he was born? Wasn't I just 17? It can't have been that long since he was born on a Holy Saturday evening. I still remember the cooing compliments from the nurses when we all came to meet him the next day in our Easter clothes. My sister and I had matching dresses (my idea), but I also remember my 9 year old hair-styling skills being not that great. When Mom and the new baby arrived home the next day, our next-door neighbor kid climbed up on the garage roof to meet them. I'm so proud of the outgoing, ardently Catholic young man my little brother has become since that day.

Yesterday was the 6th anniversary of Pope John Paul II's death. Has it really been that long since I watched all the news coverage of crowds gathering to mourn in St. Peter's Square? That weekend was a very emotional one for me. I've idolized JPII since childhood, and as his sickness and pain ended, my own journey into suffering was just beginning. The circulatory condition that would eventually make me drop out of college for a year was just starting to flare up. Grief over the Holy Father combined with frustration at my body slippping out of my control and I ended up crying in a heap on the laundry room floor. Normally I don't cry when people die, but that day I felt like I was finally getting it right. I'm grateful for what I learned that year about suffering and trusting God, and for how much stronger I've gotten in the past 6 years. I like to thing that JPII may have put in a good word for me up there.

I guess what ties all three of these things together is that since time keeps moving us forward, there will always be more opportunities to keep growing into the people God wants us to be. I love how this song explains that with a little help from Shakespeare.

Sigh no more, no more
One foot in sea, one on shore
My heart was never pure
And you know me
You know me

And man is a giddy thing
Oh man is a giddy thing...

Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment to cry,
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be

Vestment thoughts of the day

Sorry about the silence; I won't be posting too much in the coming weeks since we're in the throes of thesis draft finishing. The atmosphere in the library has already reached the level of giggling and pencil-case-throwing, so who knows how much sanity will be left when we reach by April 4.


I start giggling whenever the books I'm reading about Anglican church embroidery sound so very ... English. For example:
In 1920 Hinda M. Hands (tell me that is not a made-up name) warned about all the crazy silk colors available to modern altar guild ladies, since “without a cultivated ‘colour sense’, an embroider can run riot among an embarras de richesse with most disastrous results!” *Gasp.* My gracious! Although if you've ever looked at the blog Bad Vestments, you know this to be true. 


Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin (his awesome actual name) started the Gothic revival in the 1830s and was never tacky. He also eventually became Catholic, sadly disappointing Team Anglican. As a 1980s publication told me:  "Pugin – “that wonderful man” as [William] Burges always thought of him – had tainted the [ecclesiological] movement with a whiff of incense. [John] Ruskin supplied an anti-papal deodorant." Because Speed Stick is always a good analogy when talking about church aesthetics. 


In honor of St. Patrick, I'll leave you with some of my favorite green vestments I've studied. They're all stoles for some reason.

At St. Ignatius of Antioch, NYC

At Church of the Transfiguration, NYC

At St. Mark's Philadelphia

And so Lent begins

I was born on an Ash Wednesday, and the day often feels more like a new beginning than my actual birthday. It's really the most refreshing holy day - it forces you to stop what you are doing and really assess the type of person you want to be. I'm all bogged down in mid-semester busy times, feeling like my life is getting out of control and wondering if I am doing anything right at all when BAM - here comes Ash Wednesday to remind me that there is a spiritual reality beyond today. That there are things more important than creature comforts and the luxury of cable tv. That nobody is perfect - in fact, we do bad things sometimes. That God is merciful, and that there is joy beyond suffering. That God made us "to know, love, and serve Him in this life, and to be happy with Him in the next." All He wants is for us to offer Him ourselves with all our confusion, weakness, and unhappiness.

My resolution for Lent is generally to be more mindful of these things. I won't keep the TV on mindlessly in the background; in fact, I won't watch Glee or Pretty Little Liars at all. I won't read so many fashion or pop culture blogs. I'll go to two daily Masses a week. I'll read more spiritual books.I'm actually a little excited to de-tox from the world. (The Beau shares my enthusiasm for Lenten self-improvement, just reason #457129 why I love him.)

Goodness knows I need fewer distractions right now. After getting ashes on my forehead, I'm spending the day with embroidered vestment motifs, and then art of colonial Spain, and then Hudson River Valley paintings. I'm awfully fond of the purple and black vestments in my thesis right now.

How about you? Do you like Ash Wednesday or dread it? What are you giving up this year?

St. Mark's sneak peek

Here are a few photos I took on my semi-disastrous outing in Philadelphia. St. Mark's Episcopal Church really has some amazing embroidery, especially on altar frontals.

Modernist Monday - Art Nouveau Vestments

On one of my "sacristy raids" on Thursday I found something quite remarkable - Art Nouveau vestments! Since Art Nouveau was only really popular for a decade or two at the turn of the twentieth century, I feel fairly confident dating the set to that period. This set is also unusual because it is made of black silk. Black vestments can only be worn for somber occasions such as All Souls' Day and funerals. Most Catholic and Episcopal churches today don't use them, instead favoring white vestments that point to the Resurrection. Despite their dark coloring, the Art Nouveau vestments are full of signs of new life. Embroidered panels on the black damask and green orphreys feature butterflies, pomegranates, a peacock, and even a PHOENIX. The text at the bottom of a dalmatic (deacon's robe) reads "Requiescat in pace."

These are so rockin', I wish I could have them worn at my own funeral. Is that too morbid? Eh, these are too lovely to care about such things.

Update May 4, 2012. I feel quite honored that Shawn Tribe of the New Liturgical Movement blog linked to this post today. Welcome new visitors, and many thanks to the comment informing me about Arts and Crafts embroidery. If you are interested in my master's thesis research on Episcopal vestments, you can read more posts about it here.

If I can make it there I'll make it anywhere

Last week I not only got some major thesis research in, I went to New York City all by my big girl self! Navigating New Jersey Transit and the subway made me nervous at first, but everything went fine. From the upper west side to Grand Central Station to Times Square, I visited three historic Anglo-Catholic parishes and fit in lunch with a college friend as a bonus.

Since I've settled on Episcopal vestments as my thesis topic, I'm rediscovering the pros and cons of using parish churches as a resource. It can be tooth-gnashingly difficult at times. There are no finding aids that lead to tidy cabinets of acid-free boxes. Clergy are super busy dealing with worship schedules, committee meetings, Sunday's sermon, and homeless people knocking at the door; they are not waiting at a reference desk to take your call. Even a church possesses antique vestments, they might not know what or where those garments are.

But when things finally work out, it's amazing. Priests may be busy, but they are also in the business of being kind to strangers. Once you get in the door, they love showing off the history of their church's building or the beauty of the rarely used rose vestment set. They'll unlock cabinets and make connections for you. At one point on Thursday afternoon, as an adorable Episcopal nun led me to an attic room where chasuble-draped tables sat in rows like a hospital ward, I remembered why I love being an historian.

Modernist Monday - with special effects by the moderator of the Church of Scotland

Yesterday while dipping into my roomie's Monty Python DVD set I discovered this hilarious fictional tv theme sequence. One could argue its design significance as an example of 1970s spy action film motifs. Also, The Bishop is wearing a pretty sweet cope with coordinating stole. You Tube wouldn't let me embed the entire sketch, but you can watch it here for even more sweet crosier smiting action.