During June my wife and I took a holiday in West Wales and stayed at a cottage on the banks of the river Teifi near Newcastle Emlyn or, as the locals call it, Castell Neudd Emlyn. Whilst there we visited the cattle market and noted that lambs were fetching forty percent more than we got for our lambs in Hereford last year, and so by the time this article is published we shall know if the higher prices are maintained, and if we have made a small profit from our nightly labours in the lambing pens.
Whilst in Wales we also visited the Christian settlement at ‘Glyn Rhosyn’ (later named Menevia from the Welsh Mynyw) but now called St David’s. David founded a monastery about 540AD and so influential was his personal asceticism and teaching that it attracted scholars, and a great educational establishment was created linking Christians in Europe and Ireland.
Alfred the Great took David’s advice, and also gave him protection against attack from antagonistic Welsh kings, and it is thought that some of his bones are still contained in a box in the present Cathedral. However, reverence for his memory did not stop Vikings killing the Bishops of St David’s in 999 and 1080, although in 1071 it did bring William the Conqueror, a descendent of the Norsemen, to pray with the local monks.
Our visit to St David’s was made even better by the excellent lunch and glass of wine served in St Mary’s Hall adjacent to the Nave which, although well preserved, shewed the damage done by Oliver Cromwell, indeed, even in our own benefice, few historical stone buildings escaped the destructive urges of Cromwell’s followers.
Just like St David’s, the visitor books in our local churches show a steady stream of people from around the world who travel to see where their ancestors are buried, and to enjoy the pastoral beauty of our parishes and, although we cannot boast the historical celebrities of St David’s, we do have Dick Whittington, the Dymock Poets, the first British soldier to be killed in 2nd world war, the mother of Barbara Cartland the novelist and Alice, the wife of Sir Edward Elgar.
In addition, visitors see local families who maintain the landscape and buildings for the enjoyment of future generations. They see the tidy churchyards and flowers, and smell the polish applied to pews by ordinary folk who, by keeping our churches open, share our heritage with the future.
Our national history includes legends associated with St, David, St, Augustine, St, Caradoc and Dick Whittington and I sometimes wonder if there are people in our parishes today who will themselves, become part of future legend.
Legends usually surround a truth that has been somewhat exaggerated in order to add interest when telling the story, but there can be no doubt that most people who are legends today thought themselves as ordinary at the time. For example, I don’t expect that Dick Whittington ever thought that he would become a global pantomime icon.
Talking about ordinary people and pantomime however, reminds me of the story I told you in July about the man who gave up what he thought were the jaded pleasures of the Christian West, for an aesthetic life in the Islamic culture of the Saharan desert only to be refused water because he wasn’t wearing a tie.
We again return to the burning desert where we see two starving men close to death, but who suddenly smell bacon. With renewed vigour they struggle to their feet and see a tree upon which are hung rashers of beautifully fried smoked bacon. One says “it’s a mirage” but the other replies “It is the Bacon Tree of ancient legend” and they argue. However, one leaps ahead only to be cut down by a hail of bullets from hidden bandits.
Mortally wounded he crawls back to his companion to gasp out, “We’re both wrong. It’s not a mirage, and it’s not a bacon tree. It’s …. a ham bush”.
View from the Pew 