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Barnes in Commonthe magazine of Churches Together in Barnes
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"Our Lady of the Skip"by Fanny Ward
St Michael's had a 'Murder in the Cathedral' moment just a week before Christmas. Father Paul, unwittingly, took the role of King Henry, and three helpers from our much loved St. Paul's School contingent took the parts of the Three Knights. It all began quite innocently enough with the fervour of the St. Michael and All Angels renaissance. After an interminable 'advent' lasting nearly three years, the birth of the community centre was imminent. A willing gang of helpers set about revealing that which was lost to us all behind scaffolding and hoardings, and as with all clear-outs some things had to go. It was not difficult to dispense with old Sunday school books and broken toys. Also, long defunct paschal candles and faded cloths from long forgotten altars. But the Victorian painting of the Madonna and child in an old gilt frame was questionable. It had been placed in the temporary choir room for the time being while painting work removed the old 'Marian' swimming pool blue from the Lady Chapel, and having lost her place she appeared to have lost her purpose too. I would hardly describe Father Paul as a draconian 'new broom'. But we all have our moments when thoughts turn to words, and in the reverend Father's eyes this romantic painting did not fit in with the general decoration of the church. With casual nonchalance he suggested out loud that perhaps it was time for Our Lady to go. Overheard, or relayed (I am not quite sure) these remarks were met with keen obedience from our three worthy 'knights' from St Paul's School who were happily demolishing the wooden box that had disguised the South Aisle for so long. There was a skip outside and here she found her new and forlorn home. It was not until the Feast of Epiphany when certain 'wise men' (and women) noticed her disappearance, that it transpired what must have happened. It is strange how something can be there for so long that it becomes loved without being revered. This typically Victorian depiction of Mother and Child could be considered sentimental and stylised, but the mother is certainly as young as Mary was, and the robust child shows all the strength needed to survive being born in a stable. As Father Paul spoke the words of T.S. Eliot in his Epiphany sermon, "A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year..." I thought of that painting, so often the focus of my gaze in the choir stalls, and considered the possibility that it could still be within reach. The skip had not been taken before Christmas. Perhaps God speaks. Maybe she was still there. Being a confirmed 'Raider of the Lost Skip', I set about clearing soggy debris from its innards, outside the community centre, observed by a number of amused people from the congregation. They were not aware of my mission, probably fired by my realisation as a child, that my name originated from the Saint of 'lost things'. My dear friend Michael soon joined me announcing his longfelt fondness for the painting. Soon two more stalwart members of the congregation joined us in our quest. It was highly appropriate that Michael, the true antiquarian of our congregation, should spot the edge of the gilt frame hard up against the front edge of the skip. Half an hour later we eased the frame, with shattered glass, out of the skip. For those who, like me , believe in divine intervention, the painting was, incredibly, whole. Damp, yes. Covered in dust, yes. But restorable and complete. Carried into the church, in prodigal fashion, Our Lady of the Skip was saved from loss. Father Paul, mortified at his casual dismissal of her value to a few fragile souls, like mine, welcomed her back and vowed to restore her, with non-reflective glaze. Unlike T.S.Eliot's Thomas a Becket and very much in keeping with the 'Journey of the Magi' we experienced a new birth. But this re-birth has all the joy of our eclectic, companionable mix that makes St. Michael's the rightful place to house 'Our Lady of the Skip'. |
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