A surprise

Firle Church

The footpath leading to Firle Church looks promising. It’s lined on both sides with a thick beech hedge. The brown leaves shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. In English, conifers are sometimes described as ‘evergreens.’ As I walk toward the church, I wonder why there’s no word, in either English or Dutch, for shrubs that are green in summer and remain a beautiful, warm brown in winter. “Brown-greens” doesn’t sound very good; “browngreens” sounds a bit better.

Firle is the village nestled in the South Downs where a good number of the Bloomsbury Group are buried. The church itself is also remarkable, although I seem to have a minority opinion in this regard. Nikolaus Pevsner, the pope of British architectural history, didn’t consider the thirteenth-century flint bell tower, nor the not-much-later remaining portion of the church, remarkable enough to include in his Sussex volume of “The Buildings of England.”

What a wealth of other choices he had to not even have to mention this charming, centuries-old church. I think this as I shuffle along the aisle and see the charming needlework cushions where the parishioners kneel at appropriate times during the service. I wonder if all the cushions are used during Sunday services.

That’s quite possible. Peter Owen-Jones is the pastor of this church, and Peter Owen-Jones is a phenomenon. I’ve never heard him preach, but I’ve read numerous books by him. My companion, N., with whom I’m taking this walk to Firle, once heard him officiate at a wedding of friends.

It’s a pleasant church. The visit is made even more enjoyable when friend N. sits down at the piano and performs a magnificent Ave Maria by Charles Gounod. I recorded his performance on my phone and showed it to his 95-year-old mother when we visited her later in the day. She immediately declared that wasn’t Gounod, but the Prelude in C major by J.S. Bach. Of course, she’s right. On the way home, I tell friend N. that I’d like to be as lucid as his mother in five years - just 65 - as she is at 95. N. replied, “So do I!”

The biggest surprise in Firle Church lies hidden behind one of the doors. My 1965 edition of the Pevsner guidebook didn’t even know about it. It’s a stained-glass window by the artist John Piper. He is best known for his stirring pen and ink drawings/watercolors of churches mostly located in the South of England.

This window, however, is different. Even on the grey Sunday afternoon we visit, the window sparkles as soon as we open the door. It’s the tree of life, rendered with great liveliness and it is very touching. The moon shimmers in the evening while it’s still light, and the sun promises summer, even in the greyest of winters. But the sheep are the most beautiful. They seem content in all seasons. Perhaps that is the message.