Mystery Worshipper: Frollo
Church:
St Edmund’s, Hunstanton
Location: Norfolk, England
Date of visit: Sunday, 24 November 2024, 10:45am
The building
St Edmund’s is Hunstanton’s parish church, dedicated to the first patron saint of England. Edmund landed at Hunstanton in 855 and was crowned King of East Anglia. He was captured and martyred after having led the fight against Viking invaders. Built from 1865 onwards by Hunstanton’s entrepreneurial Le Strange family, the 19th century St Edmund’s is – from the outside – something of a trope for many other churches in the area. Classic Norfolk chased flint alternates with red brick on the walls, and the solid impression this creates lends gravitas, if not beauty. Inside, the nave is remarkably airy and light from the clerestory and windows of the north and south aisles. The latter tell the life story of St Edmund in 20th century stained glass.
The church
St Edmund’s has a reputation for being one of the highest Anglican churches in East Anglia. The sacrament is reserved, and six tall candles stand on the high altar, although on the day of our visit, not a whiff of incense was to be nosed. The parish is one of eight within the benefice, which is currently in a rather protracted vacancy. Despite this, and probably as the parish is one of the main ones in the benefice, holy communion is celebrated every Sunday, and on the first and third Thursdays of the month. Online evensong is also held for the whole benefice on Sunday evenings, and there is an informal ‘making space’ session every Wednesday in St Edmund’s church hall.
The neighborhood
Hunstanton is a well populated seaside town on the north-west coast of Norfolk, the result of huge 19th century development as the brainchild of Henry L’Estrange Styleman le Strange, Lord of Hunstanton Manor. The Le Strange family legacy is to be found all over this part of the coast. The ruins of St Edmund’s chapel, built in his memory and dating from 1272, remain high on the cliffs to the north of the town. As one might expect, sizes of congregation in the local churches vary considerably dependent on whether it’s holiday time or not.
The cast
An assistant (retired) priest officiated and preached. A lay person from the congregation read the lessons; the churchwarden led the prayers.
What was the name of the service?
Parish Eucharist.How full was the building?
There were 11 of us humans, in a space that would comfortably hold 250.
Did anyone welcome you personally?
Storm Bert was blowing a hooley as with some effort we managed to open the latch to enter. We were greeted immediately by a golden retriever, whose human was only slightly behind with the welcome and the necessary books. In fact, every member of the congregation, as they arrived, welcomed us to their church. Several apologised for the low turn-out, which, given the blustering winds outside, wasn’t exactly unexpected. A box stood next to the door containing ready-filled hot water bottles, which was a pleasant thought.
Was your pew comfortable?
It was 19th century oak, with an unexpectedly low seat, which caused more than one sharp intake of breath when sitting down after a hymn and suddenly expecting to fall. Otherwise, perfectly comfortable and with plenty of leg-room.
How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere?
Some quiet music was played from the sound system as we gathered. A small congregation isn’t particularly noisy, so with general greetings over, the atmosphere became naturally reverent.
What were the exact opening words of the service?
‘Good morning and welcome to our service of holy communion.’
What books did the congregation use during the service?
A booklet of Common Worship Order 1, and the big orange hymn book, Complete Anglican Hymns, Old & New.
What musical instruments were played?
There was no choir, and no live music apart from our congregational singing. The organ part had been pre-recorded by a retired priest who was at that very moment playing accompaniment for the local Roman Catholic church. It would have been better for us had we had him live; some of the tempos and rhythms were rather wayward for our singing. During the communion, a recording of ‘The Servant King’ was played – in a more tasteful version than many I’ve heard and grumped about in the past.
Did anything distract you?
The aforementioned goldie, beautifully behaved, was lying down with her head in the aisle within easy reach of her water bowl. It was beyond human resistance to check in on her every few moments as she peacefully attended to our worship.
Was the worship stiff-upper-lip, happy clappy, or what?
Pretty stiff-upper. The altar was decked in red, for Christ the King Sunday. The celebrant wore a pleasing red chasuble, with a modern and simple gold embroidered design. The Old and New Testament readings came before the Gospel, but with the forces present on this inclement morning, it wouldn’t have been possible to indulge in the high-Anglican theatrics for which I’d rather been hoping.
Exactly how long was the sermon?
15 minutes.
On a scale of 1-10, how good was the preacher?
8 — The preacher was reading, at first slightly hesitantly, but got into her stride after a minute or two. She spoke clearly, and went head-on at the late-and-current C of E abuse crisis.
In a nutshell, what was the sermon about?
Comparisons between earthly and heavenly kingship. The Old (Daniel) and New Testament (Revelation) readings show the latter, while the Gospel (John) portrays Pilate interrogating Jesus and completely getting the wrong end of the stick, seeing Christ as an earthly king with a power-threatening mission. Do we understand our King as the God of Love? Do we work in God’s name to achieve or maintain power over others? Do we misinterpret, deliberately or unconsciously, to keep ourselves in control, which may lead us in extremis to the abuses of John Smyth and others? Jesus challenged Pilate’s power; the kingship of Jesus challenges us to share love with others.
Which part of the service was like being in heaven?
Many of the pews carry the engraved names of past members of St Edmund’s congregation. Facing them, it was a reminder that our small present numbers are joined with all those names’ eternal worship.
And which part was like being in... er... the other place?
I really don't like intinction of a wafer at communion, whether diocesan instruction is for or against (and I believe here it’s against). Give me a big swig at the common cup and ideally some real bread.
What happened when you hung around after the service looking lost?
A retreating version of the welcome we received when we arrived. The goldie, now in assistance-dog harness, was particularly friendly.
How would you describe the after-service coffee?
There was none. Most people, including ourselves, seemed keen to get home and into some greater warmth.
How would you feel about making another visit (where 10 = ecstatic, 0 = terminal)?
8 — St Edmund’s has been great, and is suffering terribly from being in long vacancy. All manner of things shall be well. It would be very good to attend a summer service with an appointed pastoral team leading.
Did the service make you feel glad to be a Christian?
Yes.
What one thing will you remember about all this in seven days' time ?
The peace of dog which passeth all understanding. (Can't resist it – I'll get my coat.)