St E and Me (Part IV)
In my last post, I told you about how we helped fund St Eanswythe’s new reliquary in Folkestone. But since we had been blessed with our own relic—a cloth that had been blessed on the bones of our Holy Project Manager—we needed our own reliquary. A generous family in the parish offered to underwrite the cost, and so we asked our very own Martin Earle to handle the project.
Here are some photos of the completed piece:
The icon on the cover is an alabaster carving of our saint. The brass frame is adorned with stones that Martin picked up from the beach in Folkestone. The cloth itself is in a wooden case, and the cross that is embroidered on the cloth was done by the same woman who, in 2011, designed and sewed the wedding gown of Catherine, Princess of Wales—which, we thought, was very appropriate, given all the royal connections.
We keep the reliquary in the Holy Place; that means the clergy are able to reverence St Eanswythe’s relic on a regular basis, but we share it with the rest of the parish every year when we serve that All Night Vigil on August 30/31, and whenever anyone wants to pray along with the Holy Princess.
But last fall, we also had an opportunity to pray, not only with St Eanswythe, but also with our new friends in Folkestone. The saint’s new reliquary was to be officially installed in her parish Church, and we received an invitation to the service:
We decided to send the priest with whom I serve at St John’s, Father Andrew Wilson. Part of that had to do with the fact that I could not take time off from my secular job, but, even more importantly, Father Andrew is a really, really likable guy, and we knew he would be able to meet lots of people and make lots of good connections (which is a polite way of saying I’m a total introvert, and, if I had made the trip, the good people in Folkestone would most likely never have known I was there).
So, I’m going to let him pick up the story from here:
I had no idea what to expect from my trip. I didn’t know if the event would be big or small, I didn’t know if anyone outside of the few people I had communicated with would know who I was or why I was there, and at one point, I didn’t even know if I would make it to the service on time.
I stayed with a good friend of our parish community, the English iconographer and icon carver Martin Earle. His house was about two hours away from Folkestone, so we decided to make a day of it. We had a couple of different stops planned on a leisurely drive, but about halfway there we encountered a massive and persistent traffic jam. As we watched our arrival time creep closer and closer to the start of the service, we realized that we were at serious risk of being late or even missing a large part of the service. Martin said, “Fr. Andrew, we better ask St Eanswythe to help us.” Literally, as soon as he had gotten the words out of his mouth, we were in motion again after having sat stock-still for quite some time. Within a minute, we were up to full speed again, our arrival time shrinking until, ultimately, we were about half an hour early (Hopefully you are starting to get a sense of the saint’s personality; I find her to be quite sweet and even playful).
The place, the Parish Church of Sts Mary and Eanswythe, turned out to be packed. This was clearly a community event with far more people attending than just the normal Sunday churchgoers. As is my wont in such situations, I tried to sneak in unnoticed, but Martin was not having it. He announced my presence to the greeters saying that I had come all the way from Texas. It turned out to be a good thing that he did, because the kind people there cried out that they had been expecting us. They had reserved seats for us complete with little name placards, and they ushered us to them. There I got to meet the thoughtful, and by this time retired, parish priest, the Reverend Dr. John Walker, who had sent us the cloth relic of St Eanswythe. He encouraged Martin and me to go forward and see the relics up close before the service started. What followed was surreal. To stand so near the mortal remains of someone who I had read so much about, who had become so much a part of my life, who I had asked to pray for me and my community and then had prayed with for so many years, who I felt like I had come to know in a real way, but who had died more than 1,300 years before.
The service began – a special Choral Evensong for the occasion – at times solemn, at times joyful. In the middle of the service some children from St Eanswythe’s Primary School put on a play covering the major life events and miracles of the saint. Many people involved in the Finding Eanswythe project were given special parts, prayers and readings so I got to put faces to names I’d seen associated with the work and the wider parish: Andrew Richardson the archaeologist, Ellie Williams the osteoarchaeologist, Rev. Lesley Hardy an Anglican priest and the leader of the project, Sophie Hacker the reliquary designer, Tom Bertram the Churchwarden, and Jan Clarke a church council member and volunteer tour guide for all of our parishioners who have made the trip to Folkestone over the years. All of this was organized by the new priest, Rev. Christopher Johnson, as his first assignment after being assigned to the parish (no pressure).
To be honest, I was a bit starstruck. These folks, especially the Finding Eanswythe team, were something of minor celebrities to me as they were the people who had been physically closest St Eanswythe. What I didn’t realize, however, was that the feeling was at least somewhat mutual. I found this out as I sheepishly introduced myself after the service. Their eyes lit up with recognition; they told me that they were really hoping that I was going to be able to make it, and that they were excited to meet me. Our parishioners’ gift of funding the reliquary had meant that their work on the project could continue and helped make the translation service possible. They invited me to come out with them after the service so they could get to know me and our parish community a bit better. But, before that, they made sure that I met Archdeacon Darren in person, and he walked me and the judge who initially approved the project up to the niche by the altar. He opened the locked grate and allowed us to look in and see the place to which the relics had been translated and where they would rest until her next feast day when they would be displayed again.
The night ended as all good nights end in England, in a pub. We walked across the street to the Pullman with the Finding Eanswythe team and spent an hour or two talking and celebrating. They wanted to know how in the world folks from Central Texas knew about St Eanswythe and their work, and why we cared to get involved. I wanted to know what the most meaningful or impactful part or moment of their work on the project had been. Somewhere along the way I realized that, despite having just met these folks, they already felt like old friends. They had been gracious enough to make me feel like an extended member of their team. It was very truly heartwarming. And as I basked in the glow of an event that had turned out to be far more than I had hoped it would be, I realized that this had all, in fact, been another miracle of the saint. It seems to me that bringing people together that otherwise have no reason to be connected is a particular concern and specialty of St Eanswythe. It seems to me that our ongoing relationship with the Finding Eanswythe team and the people of Folkestone is a testament to just that. Holy Mother Eanswythe, patron and protector of our building program, pray to God for us!
You should check out the photos from the event, which the parish church of St Mary and St Eanswythe have shared on Flickr: Photos of the Translation of St Eanswythe’s Relics. Father Andrew is the good-looking guy in a black cassock and clerical hat; he has a beard and glasses—and right next to him is our good friend Martin Earle.
Really, then, instead of St E and Me, this whole series of posts should be titled St E and All of Us. At this point, that Us includes all the people in the parish at Folkestone and all the folks in our parish in Cedar Park, but why shouldn’t it include you, as well? What we have in common with the Holy Princess is a desire to glorify the Most Holy Trinity with a temple that is not only beautiful but that is also built to last for centuries, and, if you’d like to be a part of that effort, there are several ways to do that: You can subscribe to this Substack; you can make a donation on our website, or you can get in touch with us, and we can let you know about even more opportunities.
The princess delivers again. What a lovely story.