And a certain young man was following along with him, wearing a linen cloth over his naked body. And they arrest him. But he cast aside the linen cloth and fled naked. (Mark 14:51-52)
Wednesday 25/4/2018
Distance 24km Total Distance from Canterbury 616.7km
It is the feast day of St Mark the Evangelist. The first person to write a gospel. I don’t really want to say it is the best gospel, but it is definitely in the top four. I have spent a lot of time teaching it and at one time knew it more or less off by heart, though no longer. Alec McCowen recites it, though sadly I never saw him do it. It has a beginning, a middle and an end. It is about 20 pages long. If you have never read it through in one go, I encourage you to do so. You may be surprised. And if you cannot make sense of why I chose the quotation above, watch the first few minutes of Alec McCowen on Youtube.
Another fairly gentle day, though a very long day’s walk tomorrow begins to loom ahead. But as Matthew tells us: Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. (Matt 6:34 KJV)
I used to go to a weekly photographic club, about 40 mins drive from where I live, a slightly hair-raising trip sometimes in the winter but I always enjoyed the club immensely. I learned a lot about photography from very nice people. The guiding principles seemed to be sharing and enjoyment and generosity. There was a league which ran throughout the year, which was technically a competition, but it was a very friendly competition. About once a month you submitted a couple of photos, generally one in colour and one monochrome, on a theme, and a visiting judge would go through them, with no one at this stage knowing whose photo was whose, awarding marks and making helpful critical comments. I cannot remember the subject matter but I once submitted a photo of which I was rather proud. It was of Kilkenny Cathedral, the Church of Ireland one. I had spent most of an hour lying on the floor with a tripod one Saturday afternoon to get the right angle, and I had taken a panorama and, if you know about these things it was an HDR shot, and I had converted it into monochrome. So the final presentation incorporated about 45 different shots (only for the geeky, this was a 3×3 panorama with five images each time for HDR as there was a lot of extreme light and shade). I had spent quite a lot of time in ‘post-production’ which is a posh way of saying using Photoshop. And finally I was happy and dare I say quite proud of it. Up it went, projected on to the wall for all to see at the club meeting. A man in the row in front of me leaned into his neighbour and whispered, quite loudly enough for me to hear “You’ve seen one church, you’ve seen the all!” Well that put me in my place, though I have to say the judge was a little kinder. Here it is:
So at Mormant there are the remains of an old abbey, and my B&B was directly opposite the remains. Its origin dates from the 11th century, the time of the First Crusade. It was founded by the Bishop of Langres and given into the care of the Augustinians. It suffered a ‘spiritual decline’ and in 1307 the Pope Boniface VIII placed it in the care of the Templar knights, important historically in protecting pilgrims to the Holy Land and to Santiago de Compostela. The history of the various chivalric orders is far too complex to cover here. So it was a very important building in its day. All that remains is the Maison Dieu, which has been partly restored, and a couple of monastic farm buildings and outhouses along the way, one of which is now a private residence.
Here is the Maison Dieu and a little modern reminder of the Knights on a gateway in the village (which consists of essentially four or five households). But I have to say I felt a bit ‘Meh! You’ve seen one pilgrim hospital and you have seen them all’. Which is really not fair, and I regret now not finding the key to go in and have a look at the restoration work which has been done. I applaud the work of those who maintain such buildings and make the effort to inform us of their history.
My guidebook gave fairly clear directions for today’s walk, which has its own curious potential confusion. You can pass through a tiny place called Leffonds on your way, and it is signposted. Towards the end of tomorrow’s walk you can pass through a place called Leffond. They are less than 20km apart, but they are very definitely not the same place. And of course, as you know well, the ‘s’ is silent, (as is the ‘d’) so that is no help. Mme Michelet at the B&B told me that people do occasionally make a mistake… Anyway, she had a helpful map, with photographs, suggesting a different way, avoiding the first Leffonds altogether. I loaded a copy onto my phone and headed off.
The way went through a forest – I told you yesterday that forests divide into two types, those you get don’t get lost in and those you do. Inevitably I suppose, this ultimately turned out to be one of the latter. I began by climbing over an electric fence, which should have been a bit or a warning really. I liked the sign, for an ‘electric enclosure’ which sounded a great mix of the monastic and the up to the minute. An enclosure is that part of a monastery or convent where the public are not allowed. (It can also simply mean electric fence.)
The instructions seemed simple enough. In the wood go straight ahead until you get out and join a road. This was not quite that straightforward and as I got further into the wood with a bewildering array of other paths crossing mine, I began to feel lost – a feeling which is of the essence of forests. It didn’t say how far to go but it turned out to be about 5 km. French forests are really big. When I saw the sign telling me I was trespassing on private property it was too late to turn back.
After a while I came upon a hunting lodge. Not the kind of smart country house that princes and dukes use. No but rather a very large shed with hundreds of empty beer and wine bottles stacked up outside it. And an ominous humming noise from what looked like a deep freeze. Or perhaps a mortuary. I was feeling once again that I was somewhere between being a material witness and a piece of evidence. I did not feel brave enough to take a picture of it. An encouraging friend told me in real time on FB that hunting was ‘unlikely’ during the breeding season. I replied that this was fine, but that ‘inconceivable’ or ‘unprecedented’ would have been even better. Well obviously I got out! Eventually. And found my way to Marac and popped into the church. Two Joan of Arcs – she is very popular really.
There were was also a sad little detail, in two adjacent things. A little note with the necrology, or list of the dead of the parish, growing steadily.
And right next to it the baptismal font, which somehow looked dusty and neglected, and I felt had not been used in recent times. A very tangible illustration of two of the ‘signs of the times’.
The most exciting thing in the church was an electronic control panel for the bells and a set of instructions. I was very tempted!
There was a helpful signpost along the way if you wanted to go somewhere other than Rome:
And in Marac a building erected, a cousin informs me, to commemorate a little known visit of the Everton football team.
See:
So after an illuminating day in which I was not shot either deliberately or accidentally by hunters I arrived at Langres, a place distinguished by having lots of shops. And of course on the way, as happens every day without fail, I was greeted by an honour guard of cows. I have an awful lot of pictures very similar to this one, but I will spare you.
These are the signs that will be associated with believers: in my name they will cast out devils; they will have the gift of tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and be unharmed should they drink deadly poison; they will lay their hands on the sick, who will recover. Mark 16:17-20 Encouraging words if you are going to walk through a scary forest….
It wasn’t me. I think.