An enduring love legacy

With the close of February it seems right to leave the Agapemonites behind (see my previous posts this month).

But perhaps before I go I'll turn to the Daily Express last November.  For in a quiet media corner amid the arrival of a new American presidency the living constituents of the family of Mr Smyth-Pigott came to court in London.  Now the nature of bloggery is that links do not necessarily last - as I write you can read all about it by clicking HERE.

In the interests of a more lasting record we note first of all that, as any 21st century media would, the whole emphasis is placed on S - E - X.  Now to be fair to Smyth-Pigott this is unlikely to prove his main problem at the Last Judgment for despite this juicy reporting, repeating some efforts from the media at the time, there is little evidence that Smyth-Pigott had multiple sexual relationships - perhaps just the child-bearing one outside his 'official' marriage.  He certainly did have a harem of adoring and communal women followers.

There seems something hugely appropriate that the court case turns out to be all about one of the three great vices.  Here, in memorial of a man who claimed divine Messianic power and who consequently enjoyed an indecent width of sex or sexual interest, is his 21st century resurrection as an issue in court - and it's all about vice number three, money.  Money, Sex and Power.

What happened next?

Well, the family lost the case.  Thus the £1 million is to be distributed by the Charity Commissioners to charities that most resemble the Agapemonites.  Now there's a challenge.

An important footnote is that neither I nor our Church have been approached by the Charity Commissioners on this matter . . .

Of gods and men

People have been noticing that whereas in previous years there was an unpredictability about the news, now there is guaranteed at least one daily news item involving the word Trump.  Though on reflection there has probably not yet been a day with only one such item..

My attention was caught by the superfan of Donald Trump who prays every day in front of a cardboard cut out of his hero. A thousand comments flood my mind but for now I return to Upper Clapton and The Ark of the Covenant of the Agapemonites I referenced last week on this blog.

On September 7 1902 Smyth-Pigott, the leader of the Agapemonites (and still a priest of the Church of England which he had banned from his newly built church building) replaced the Communion table with an elaborate chair on which he sat. 

And then he stood.

And then he infamously said (as reported in the Hackney and Kingsland Gazette) that his predecessor had prepared the way and that

'I am that Lord Jesus Christ who died and rose again and ascended into heaven; ... Yes I am he that liveth and behold I am alive for evermore.  The Lord from heaven and the life-giving Spirit to those who know me and come to me.

... I am the Son of Man and you, each one of you, must be judged by me . . .'

Most of the congregation agreed with this astonishing revelation.  The cardboard cut out of God had his followers.

The locals were less happy and near riots ensued whenever Smyth-Pigott appeared thereafter.  He decamped to Somerset with his several spiritual brides.

Which, I contend, only goes to show that you can fool some of the people any of the time.

The Abode of Love

Valentine's Day brings us to but one subject - love. 

London has an endless supply of weirdness for those who have a mind for such things. On Valentine's Day I can think of no more deserving place to ponder than the Georgian Orthodox Cathedral whose vast steeple overlooks Clapton Common, these days surrounded by synagogues of the Stamford Hill Jewish community.

Unsurprisingly perhaps, this was not always a Georgian Orthodox Cathedral.  Just one look at it tells you it was formerly a Church of England parish church (or just possibly a Presbyterian, Congregational, Methodist or less likely Baptist imitation of one).

Wrong.

Notwithstanding its appearance, this building has never been any of those kind of churches and has written into its former trust that it can never be used by the Church of England or the Salvation Army.  In the early 21st Century it passes for just another old religious building, but at the end of the 19th century it was, to put it mildly, the centre of attention.

This 'Ark of the Covenant' as it was called, was the London location of the Agapemonites.  Together with a vast communal estate in Somerset and various minor outposts in Britain and Europe it represented the influence of an End-Time preacher who centred his followers on the Song of Solomon.  Mr Prince's followers included several wealthy Victorian merchants and several more Victorian single and separated women. 

Like countless before, contemporary with and following his day, Mr Prince gathered a following of those who knew they would not die for they were the last generation.  As it was to turn out they did die and so did he, but that was just the start: into his shoes had stepped the ample figure of Mr Smyth-Pigott, formerly of the Anglicans and Salvation Army (note above) under whose charismatic auspices this phenomenal building was erected.  And later besieged by rioters.

The Abode of Love (the community) and this building (the Ark of the Covenant) gave the Victorian press plenty of juicy speculative material of preachers with multiple wives (spiritual brides) and various goings on imagined.  Well, not entirely imagined because a spiritual bride fell pregnant . . .

As the Church of England worries itself sick about same sex marriage it might look a little closely at a building from which it is banned in Upper Clapton and figure that even a church with a high steeple is not enough to give spiritual dignity to an entity that has misunderstood the kind of love the church should really be talking about to the world.

Bless

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

We thought about these words on Sunday.

We ended with this remarkable prayer from a Serbian bishop and a World War II concentration camp:

Bp. Nikolai Velimirovich was a Serbian bishop in the last century who spoke out courageously against Nazism until he was arrested and taken to Dachau. This is a translated extract of his famous prayer:

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.
Enemies have driven me into your embrace more than friends have.
Friends have bound me to earth, enemies have loosed me from earth and have demolished all my aspirations in the world.
Enemies have made me a stranger in worldly realms and an extraneous inhabitant of the world. Just as a hunted animal finds safer shelter than an unhunted animal does, so have I, persecuted by enemies, found the safest sanctuary, having settled myself beneath your tabernacle, where neither friends nor enemies can slay my soul.
Bless my enemies, O Lord. They, rather than I, have confessed my sins before the world.
They have punished me, whenever I have hesitated to punish myself.
They have scolded me, whenever I have flattered myself.
They have spat upon me, whenever I have filled myself with arrogance.
Bless my enemies, O Lord, Even I bless them and do not curse them.
Whenever I have made myself wise, they have called me foolish.
Whenever I have made myself mighty, they have mocked me as though I were a dwarf.
Whenever I have wanted to lead people, they have shoved me into the background.
Whenever I have tried to build a home for a long and tranquil life, they have demolished it and driven me out.
Truly, enemies have cut me loose from the world and have stretched out my hands to the hem of your garment.
Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

One hates his enemies only when he fails to realize that they are not enemies, but cruel friends.