These three sisters lived as ascetics on a mountain. Many of the ill and infirm in the region were being healed by their prayers. The local governor was not terribly keen on this effective marketing strategy, and had the women summoned, and demanded that they abandon the faith. Naturally they refused, and were tortured and killed around AD 304.

According to legend, after their deaths, the governor, Frontonius was struck by lightening and died.

The sisters were buried at a hot-spring in Pythias.

The connection with the spring and the virgin martyrs is not uncommon. In this instance the fact that they were healers compounds the association. The sites of springs were healing places, both for mind and body because in addition to the benefits of hot-springs, and mineral springs, they are often found in places of pristine beauty, or “charis” (grace). An idea embodied by virginity, and the virgins themselves. See for example the frequent literary connection between Paradise which is beautiful and fruitful without the soil ever having been worked, or tilled.

As early as the late fourth century the Theotokos began to be closely associated with springs – there is a famous icon of her sitting in a fountain (no it’s not a late antique wet T-shirt competition!). Earlier, more abstract imagery (one example in the British Museum) shows a fountain flanked on either side by deer. It is not uncommon to encounter sites, named in the medieval period for their spring, still bearing a name associated with Mary. An example not too far from where I am now “Ladywell” comes to mind. Sadly the actual spring is now under a pub carpark!

After many months of indecision I have finally published my MA thesis on the emergence of the Virgin Mary as a figure of female asceticism in the third and fourth centuries. You can pick up a copy by clicking here.

Primarily through the writings of Origen and Athanasius I trace the development of the image of Mary from a young virgin to the paragon of female asceticism.

If you are interested in early developments in the image of Mary, or early ideas behind asceticism (and early monasticicsm) you might be interested in this essay.

There has been a mini-media storm here in the UK cultivated by a number of Christian figures and organisations claiming that “we” [Christians] are persecuted in Britain. Um . . . er. . . . yeah. . . .not so much, no. When I consider that Chinese Christians are imprisoned, Indian Christians are murdered, and Iraqi preists have been murdered, and Pakistani Christians imprisoned, and even executed I cannot take seriously the shrill complaints of some of my co-religionists that they are “persecuted” in a relatively liberal western industrialised state.

Over the past decade I’ve observed, both in the US and in the UK, how some Christian groups employ the term “persecution” as a cipher for “they don’t like us”. This raises some other interesting observations and questions about how Christianity is lived in today’s world of competing religious ideologies and “Christianities”.

It does seem that this shrill complaint about Christian persecution is simply one way of drawing attention to one’s particular Christianity, an attempt at scrambling to the top of the pile. There are however, negative consequences to this method, including an ever-increasing marginalisation of the authentic “voice” of Christianity – the voice of substance and praxis, rather than of perceived slights and hysterical screeching. A brief scan of recent media reports on the perceived slights decried as “persecution” demonstrates that no one is actually listening, rather they are gawking at the silly freaks on the street corner moaning about how nobody likes them.

The fact is – we ought to be looking to those in the faith, regardless of their tradition, who are in fact true confessors, and yes, even modern martyrs, who under the strain of true persecution continue to live the faith, and confess their conviction that the teachings of Christ are transformative.

Over the past few weeks Channel 4 has offered a series they call “Christianity A History” where different personalities from different perspectives explore a particular element of Christian history.

The series began with Howard Jacobson’s look at “Jesus the Jew”. Michael Portillo’s installment examines the interplay between the church and the Roman empire. Robert Beckford looks at the conversion of Britain to Christianity. Rageh Omar asks if an understanding of the history of the Crusades offers insights into current Christian-Muslim relations. Anne Widdecomb’s look at the Reformation highlights both the positive and the negative results of this tumultuous period in Western Christianity. Kwame Kwei-Armahe bears witness to the effects of other cultures on Christianity – especially in light of today’s growing diversification of “Christianities” within former colonial outposts. Last night’s installment was Collin Blakemore’s look at the emergence of the battle between science and religion. Next week, the final part in the series, is Cherie Blair’s look at the future of Christianity.

With the exception of Rageh Omar’s installment we’ve watched them all. Each one has been worth viewing; even Colin Blakemore’s almost childish rant against religion. You can view all the episodes online for the next few weeks by clicking here. Be sure to post your thoughts on those that you’ve viewed.

This is one of my quick “sketches” in preparation for something more patiently done, or as in this case, exploring a new technique or tool. Sometimes, words are . . . . not quite right – I’m all for images!

I’ve been thinking about this bus driver who, last week (I think it was) refused to drive one of London’s new “Athiest busses” because he’s an Evangelical Christian. The story has been reported now on both sides of the Great Pond, but here are two references (A and B) for you to look at and ponder. We’ve talked about it a bit here at GCHQ and while I’m still sitting with some of the questions it raises I wonder: did he also refuse to drive busses advertising abortion services? What about busses with adverts celebrating Diwali and Ramadan? I could go on for another two or three dozen lines with these type of questions. Is this an act of hypocrisy, or is this “drawing the line” somewhere in the sand, and what is that line, what does it say about his expression of Christianity, more importantly, how does it reflect on other Christians – like us?

—- Here too is an NPR report on “Advertising Atheism” – I’ve not listened to it in full yet, but hey, its NPR you know it’ll be good. —

For God had to manifest himself in a new way – this is how one of the Fathers describes the incarnation. Theophany has come – the manifestation of the Trinity, and of Christ’s purpose in the World. God has come to us in a new way a physical way, one that demonstrates his inexorable solidarity with us, with creation.

This is the feast day on which we celebrate the annual blessing of water – an ancient symbol, with a rich repertoire of meaning. For the moment, however, I want to sit with the idea of the physical presence of water; for Just as God came to us in a new way, a very physical way, we employ this physical substance to restore and refresh the very places where we live, and work, and play. The blessed water brought to our homes, is a conscious bridge between the worship in the temple, and the mundane, and the extraordinary events of our lives; a reminder of how these things converge to shape who and what we are as disciples of Christ.

Finally, let us consider how the blessing of our homes sweeps away the worries and burdens, the anger and resentments, the sickness and despair of the past twelve months. We gather together in one another’s homes to celebrate the blessing of that home – usually with a party – looking forward to a fresh beginning, a clean slate for the coming year.

I’ve been doing some sketches for an ikon I’ve got it narrowed down to two – Ignatius of Antioch (one I’ve always wanted to do and never have), and a Theotokos.

Who knows, I might do both.

Yesterday the Times carried an article stating that Cardinal O’Connor “called for the National Gallery to surrender a Renaissance masterpiece [the baptism of Christ by Piero della Francesca] – because it is a “work of faith” rather than art.” He went on to comment that works such as this 15th century painting ought to be restored to their proper context – a church. Hmmmm . . . .

This is a tricky one. The Cardinal points to something I’ve been talking about here and that is that religious art is not merely “about” faith, but it participates in the life of that community. I remember well the first time I saw an extensive icon exhibit in Washington DC many years ago – how strange I felt seeing these images disconnected from the congregations and homes in which they were an integral part of living the faith. In this light, I think that I can well understand the Cardinal’s overarching point.

On the other hand . . . . As Rachel Campbell-Johnston highlighted in her response to the Cardinal’s comments the idea is a bit mad: “our British clerics are not as rich as Medici popes. Surely the Church has more important priorities than paying for the sort of security systems and climate control mechanisms that an artwork of this enormous historical calibre would need if it were not to mildew and crumble, end up the subject of a ransom demand or be attacked by some attention-grabber.” That is to say that many of these wonderful spiritually charged images would have been lost long ago – especially in England where iconoclasm destroyed vast swathes of the country’s cultural heritage – had they remained in, or been restored to Roman churches across the land. What is more – would they necessarily go to “Roman” Catholic churches, or would they naturally go to Anglican (“English Catholic”) buildings? So now we’re off to the races fighting over a painting that was meant to instill in the viewer higher ideals and a better approach to his/her fellows.

Cambell-Johnston makes another equally valid point, that is what is to say that in a fine museum like the National Gallery one cannot pause, reflect, and be refreshed by the experience? She notes: “if the Archbishop thinks that just because a picture is in a church, people will recognise its specific religious import, then he clearly has not been to St Peter’s in recent years. The Angelus bell rings. Do the crowd bend their heads in respectful silence? No. The cameras keep whirring, the jaws go on champing gum. In fact, the possession of a great artwork is more likely to lead to the desecration of a sacred space.” I was in St. Peters last year and her point is well chosen. I remember standing before the relics of St. Peter – and in the din, and the shoving, the clicking, and whirring, over the noise of audio guides and iPods – it was well nigh on impossible to just have a moment to reflect and appreciate this one place. But you don’t have to go to Rome to see Cambell-Johnston’s point in action – one need only visit St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey (and its Roman counterpart the cathedral) to experience the same concept. These are not so much “sacred” spaces anymore, but with their unique architecture, and the many pieces of art within, they are themselves works of art – tourist attractions. I’m not suggesting that they ought not to be so – they should, indeed they must be, because they say as much about the history and heritage of our society as they do about the religious faith that produced them. But there is an unmistakable “desacrilisation” that one experiences in these places.

Actually, one witnesses a tension between the desire to encounter the sacred, and the desire to encounter great works of creativity; both among the crowds, and even – within ones self. If anything what this article and response raises is an equally interesting discussion about the nature of sacred space. What constitutes sacred space? Can it be temporary? Can an item that is “sacred” make the space around it sacred? Likewise can displaying a sacred item in a “profane” space desacrilise that work?

Can these works, now disconnected from their original context, continue to participate in the life of faith and not become desacrilised images “about” religion? In their current place – in the National Gallery – can they not work in a new, possibly even better way to draw people to re-consider what it means to believe?

There are various ways that we “commune” with people not physically present at liturgical celebrations – and by this I mean that we establish, or re-enforce our relationship with them – this is, afterall what sacramentalism is all about – connecting with another.

Inspired by Jordan Stratford’s recent posting of the Advent Conspiracy vid on Facebook, I would like to propose an ISM Christmas Communion so to speak. It dawns on me that with the multitude of small communities and isolated individuals in the movement this is an opportunity for us to share in one communal event, and make an act of communion with “the other” the stranger, the unknown person.

My proposal is simple – to get as many parishes/communities, and isolated individuals across the OC/IC/ISM spectrum as possible to choose a charity (one that helps the poor, the sick, the lonely), and make a communal gift to that charity in commemoration of the Incarnation. The gift does not have to be money – if you or your community are lucky enough to be near to a centre or organisation that helps local people – it could be a commitment of time (and who knows it may actually start a whole new expression of ministry in your community).

I think it would be great if, for those communities and individual clergy and laity who have web pages and blogs, we could have a blog-badge and an agreed upon tag so that it becomes a demonstration of communion and cooperation within the OC/IC/ISM community; as well as an encouragement to more of our compatriots to join in the project. Because there are so many of us, hidden away (or hiding – grin), even by personal contact and word of mouth I’m not sure we’d reach everyone . . . .well, maybe John Plummer can (sorry John, that was just too easy – he he he).

Additionally – many charities now have a way to donate online – those communities and individuals with a web presence could possibly “up the ante” by putting a direct link to this facility on their site.

We don’t have to pick the same charity. The idea is that we come together, for the sole purpose of collectively making a donation to a charity that we’ve chosen with our local community during, say the period 6 – 24 December. I think it would be helpful if as various communities chose their charity they shared it at some central place – perhaps here, perhaps a blog/web page (which could be set up in a matter of minutes) – solely to give those communities having trouble deciding inspiration.

To my mind the beauty of this is that with the wide spectrum of praxis and belief in our movement – this is something we can all do together without ever stepping on one another’s toes. Peace on earth, good will towards your fellow ISM!

If you or your community want to join in – please leave a note in the comments below.