Ancient Secrets at St Gregory, Heckingham

 

St Gregory, Heckingham, lies tucked away down a narrow lane. Just as at its ‘sister’ church at nearby Hales, an ancient track (now a public footpath) that is aligned with its south door, runs into the distance in the fields opposite. Walk up the small hillock approaching the graveyard entrance and you will see a plain wooden bench on which - with an enigmatic reference to the surrounding landscape - the following words are carved:

 

‘Ancient church. 

Marshes know far older secrets’

To be honest, although ‘older secrets’ may well lie buried in nearby marshes, I have no idea what they might be. What I do know, however, is that this lovely church has some secrets of its own to reveal. 

There is, for instance, the story of two daughters of John and Elizabeth Crowe - both of whom were named Mary. At the west end of the north aisle is a ledger slab on which is carved a grimly grinning skull. Here we learn that Mary Crowe died in 1659. Meanwhile, the other Mary Crowe lies interred under an almost identical stone at the east end of the aisle, she having died in 1666. Clearly, the name Mary held a special place in the hearts of her parents and was, as was quite common, re-used within families. Even though several centuries lie between me and these deaths, my heart goes out to these poor grieving parents. 

 

Along the same aisle you will find an ostensibly nondescript ledger slab set into the floor near the wall. I assume it marks the final resting place of some anonymous person. But if you look closely and carefully you will notice some crosses etched into the stone. The position and style of these crosses strongly suggests to me that this a palimpsest: a re-cycled mensa slab that, in the pre-Reformation church, would have been the altar within the churches chancel. 

Stepping into the graveyard for a moment, another ‘secret’ is revealed: namely, the tragedy of countless anonymous poor folk who died in the nearby ‘Union Workhouse’ at Hales. These individuals are commemorated with a modern grave marker to the north of the church - a nice human touch in my opinion. 

 

Back inside the church, as I look at the re-used medieval tiles that form the raised floor at the east end of the north aisle, I think of the nameless folk who have walked on them. I think too of the tiles drying in the brickyard in the summer sun some long gone day ago. Perhaps, as at Salle, kitten paw prints might be found imprinted on their surface, or fingerprints perhaps (as at Blickling or in the porch at Frenze). 

 

At present a wooden funeral bier stands immediately next to the late Norman font, a reminder of the cycle of life and death which this church has been witness to. How excited John and Mary must have been as the priest baptised their Mary’s in this very font. How many children, ‘time out of mind’ (as pre-modern documents sometimes say), must have had their heads wetted at this font. Cold old stone and the flow of warm life and Love - these are some of the layers of meaning that reside here. 

And looking at the blocked stair well to the north of the chancel arch, we are reminded of the sweep of huge impersonal historic events that played out here, in the most humble and rustic of settings. The Reformation swept away the rood screen here - most likely ending up on a bonfire in the churchyard, or, perhaps, being recycled into a local home or farm building. 

Now, let me say something about the outstanding treasure of this  church;namely, the richly carved Norman south doorway dated from the mid-1100’s. This is a dazzling display of Romanesque carving: chevrons, crosses, zigzags, bobbins and a hood-mould with wheels. It really is a wonder; one that never ceases to impress me no matter how many times I revisit the church. 

An open door

I think we would all agree that 2020 has been a terrible and testing year. The tragedy of the global pandemic with all its resulting death and disruption is a backdrop against which I write this short piece. I know that I am not alone in having struggled with poor mental health during these testing times. Hats off then to the Churches Conservation Trust for enabling the doors of this church to be open. Unfortunately, a pervasive risk averse culture seems to have swept this country when it comes to keeping churches open - especially, Church of England ones (with noteable exceptions like the Hempnall Group, all of which are open). The fact is that where this is a will there is a way when it comes to open churches. 

 

Within a church like Heckingham we can escape the tribulations of the wider world for a while. Whether you come to pray or to explore; to sit quietly, or to talk about some things that really matter with friends (or some combination thereof!) - whatever your reason, that open door really means something. It is part of a culture that says, 

‘Here (at least), you are welcome’. 

Within, we are able to heal. 

Stillness within

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© Ragged Ramblers, 2020