Christianity from the 43 bus: 14. The Bells of St Clements. Perhaps.

Continuing a journey through London on the 43 bus route - with a Christian eye.  The whole series is viewable on the '43 bus route' tag below.

King William Street takes the 43 bus from the Bank of England to the City end of London Bridge, a wide straight road that therefore cannot be old and dates from (unsurprisingly) the reign of King William, immediately prior to Queen Victoria. 

Probably far above the various offices there is a flat or two, but on the face of it nobody seems to live in King William Street these days.  Yet at the other end of it from St Mary Woolnoth is another C of E Church, St Clement.

St Clements Lane, on which corner the church stands, is a tiny apology of a road off Eastcheap.  Eastcheap was one of the main thoroughfares of the old city, long before the likes of King William Street were built.  Eastcheap is seriously old dating back to Anglo-Saxon times!

The famous old nursery rhyme goes . . .

Oranges and lemons

Say the bells of St. Clement's

You owe me five farthings

Say the bells of St. Martin's

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey

When I grow rich

Say the bells of Shoreditch

But is this that St Clements? It is a dispute with St Clement Danes which plays the nursery rhyme tune on its bells to assert its point.

Squeezed between office buildings with next to no residents the existence of this church is a point of remark.  More surprising still in that in the early 1800s - when King William Street was built - there was a cull of City churches.  The population was moving to the new suburbs and there were churches - but not residents - everywhere in the old City.  St Clement very narrowly survived.

An obvious question is what is the usefulness of this church in the 21st century.  From the noticeboard above we can see that, like all City churches, it has its full complement of Alderman, Clerks, Beadle, Priest-in-charge and Councilmen.  Then there is the other noticeboard:

This board is in better shape than most churches I preach in, and quite cool. It is a reminder that the Church of England has operated imaginatively with its City of London church buildings.  A handful operate as normal parish churches but many otherwise.  Both St Mary Woolnoth (previous blog) and St Clement are part of three churches under the Imprint branding, providing contemporary ministry among London's many young professionals.

For me, this illustrates exactly the problem with my own Baptist 'tribe' and other non-conformists.  Under our umbrellas this church would simply have closed, greedy central funds drooling at the real estate value incoming.  St Clement lives on - for God's sake.

Christianity from the 43 bus: 13. John Newton

Continuing a journey through London on the 43 bus route - with a Christian eye.  The whole series is viewable on the '43 bus route' tag below.

Although the 43 bus route has often been changed over the years, and is due to change again shortly, conveniently for my blog it heads down Moorgate into the City of London, passing the west side of the Bank of England.  There it enters King William Street.

There on the first corner it comes to another candidate for the ugliest church in London (see THIS EARLIER BLOG), this time St Mary Woolnoth.   It is one of the almost unimaginable number of Church of England churches serving the City of London (and its population of less than 9000).

What sets St Mary Woolnoth apart is one of its former incumbents, John Newton.  Though famed as the sea captain of slaving ships who was dramatically converted and became vicar of Olney in Buckinghamshire, Newton was latterly the minister of St Mary Woolnoth.  He was famed in his day, and history has given him - and his hymn Amazing Grace, more fame still.

Wisely, perhaps, he chose to write his own epitaph, which to this day is on the church wall inside:

John Newton, 

clerk, 

once an infidel and libertine, 

a servant of slaves in Africa, 

was by the rich mercy of 

our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, 

preserved, restored, pardoned, 

and appointed to preach the faith

 he had long laboured to destroy.

Christianity from the 43 bus: 2. St Peter-le-Poer

This is the second blog on our journey on the 43 bus from Friern Barnet to London Bridge.

The automated voice intones that we are approaching St. Peter's Church.

This is surprisingly prophetic for a TFL recorded voice, because until very recently this was, in fact, St Peter-le-poer Church (which is harder to say). Now the former high church with its Solemn Mass has merged with Grace Church, its evangelical Fresh Expressions tenant, so it has adopted the simpler new name that uncannily TFL had prophesied on the adjoining bus stop.

If, unwarily, you were to assume that a Parish Church is an unchanging pivot in a fast-changing landscape the above paragraph is disarming.  But not as disarming as this church's actual story.

Granted the stone is hard to read, but it tells the story of a City of London Church which was demolished early in the 20th Century.  You can read about it clicking here.

Poer has very many meanings in various languages, some best not dwelt upon.  But in this case it simply is a variant of 'poor'.  This could refer to monks in poverty vows or to the nearby slums.  If the latter, the name ended as ironic for the City parish became fabulously wealthy, today housing office spaces that would rival the cost of almost anywhere on the planet.

And that is not all.  The original church from towards a thousand years ago was itself rebuilt and, then rebuilt again and resited to what is now Old Broad Street.

All of which makes me think, as the 43 bus heads down toward Moorgate (barely a stone's throw from Old Broad Street) that few if any passengers realise that the church they are passing has already done the same journey the other way!

Trump Street

The end of the Trump presidency is at hand.  As typically happens in the current age there is Trump flight going on, building's names being questioned, big tech suddenly finding censorship tools that had magically not existed when it was financially inconvenient to use them, golf tournaments suddenly moving contra-Trumpwards and politicians and pastor-politicians who lauded him, leaving him.

But in one little corner of London . . .

Disappointingly for Donald J. this street was not named for him but for those who made the likes of trumpets and horns, a naming that predates the United States.

For those who remember Donald Trump's election in 2016 and its aftermath of allegations of Russian interference it is worth noting that Trump Street is now only half a street - the other half of it is called Russian Row . . .

Magna Carta

Freedom is a strangely elusive idea.  Instinctively we want it, value it, demand it, yet it is much less clear what it really is.  

Take the striking opening of the Magna Carta, and one of the only four of its clauses that remain in contemporary English Law:

• I. FIRST, We have granted to God, and by this our present Charter have confirmed, for Us and our Heirs for ever, that the Church of England shall be free, and shall have all her whole Rights and Liberties inviolable. 

This might warm the heart, one would think, of any Christian. Yet strangely it did not work out quite as this reads.  After all, it was the Monarchy that effectively changed the Church of England (on account of Henry VIII's marital woes) into a non-Roman Church.  That seems some way short of the Church being free of the monarch as the Charter indicated.

Then there have been the times when, whatever freedoms the Church did enjoy it used against other expressions of church and religion.  You would have to look very hard to find any other longstanding expressions of Church on the actual City of London (which is a double irony as the freedoms of the City of London are also contained as a remaining Law from Magna Carta).

Then there is the irony that the institutional Church of England (which Magna Carta most obviously references) is, in fact, the least free of all expressions of Church with a multitude of things it can't do, must do, must have and may not have.

On the bright side, it offers an early trend toward freedom of religion in a broader sense, and one which is happily still respected (though losing ground through the double whammy of militant Islam and rampant secular Humanism).

What it most confirms - and this I think is truly frightening - is that the basis of what old King John did was under the watchful eye of God - We have granted to God.  A society that no longer believes it is answerable to God and where pockets of it believe in a God of vengeance and violence is not likely for too long to hold dear the idea of freedom.  Oppression is so much more human (as Cain effectively said).