Biography -- John Mason Neale

Few have heard of John Mason Neale and yet everyone benefits from his genius. Neale was an Anglican priest, scholar, and hymnwriter who wrote and translated hundreds of Christian texts including previously unknown medieval hymns, both Western and Eastern. Among his most famous hymns is the 1853 favourite ‘Good King Wenceslas’.

Neale was born in London on 24 January 1818. His father Cornelius Neale was a clergyman and his mother Susanna was the daughter of John Mason Good, a writer on medical, religious, and classical subjects. His parents named him after the Puritan cleric and hymn writer John Mason (1645–94), of whom his mother Susanna was a proud descendant. His younger sister Elizabeth Neale (1822–1901) founded the Community of the Holy Cross.

Neale was educated at Sherborne School in Dorset then Trinity College, Cambridge, where (despite being the best classical scholar for years) his lack of ability in mathematics prevented him taking an honours degree.

At the age of 22, Neale was made chaplain of Downing College, Cambridge. While there, he became greatly influenced by the Oxford Movement and particularly interested in church architecture.

Neale helped found the Cambridge Camden Society (afterwards known as the ‘Ecclesiological Society’) which sought to introduce more ritual and religious decoration into Anglican churches, and was closely associated with the so-called ‘Gothic Revival’.

Neale was ordained in 1842 and was briefly Vicar of Crawley in West Sussex but felt compelled to resign owing to a chronic lung disease. The following winter he lived in the Madeira Islands, where he was able to research for his first book History of the Eastern Church. He returned and, in 1846, became warden of Sackville College, an almshouse at East Grinstead; he held this appointment until his death.

In 1854 Neale helped found the Society of Saint Margaret, an order of women dedicated to nursing the sick. Many contemporary people were deeply suspicious of religious orders returning to the Church of England and, in 1857, he was attacked and mauled at a funeral of one of the Sisters. Crowds threatened to stone him or to burn his house. Thereafter he received no honour or preferment in England and his only subsequent award was a doctorate from a College in Connecticut.

Neale was the principal founder of the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, a religious organisation founded as the Anglican and Eastern Orthodox Churches Union in 1864. This organisation resulted in Hymns of the Eastern Church which Neale edited and published in 1865.Neale translated a great many Eastern liturgies into English, but is chiefly known as a hymn-writer and, especially, translator, having
enriched English hymnody with many ancient and mediaeval hymns translated from Latin and Greek. For example, the melody of Good King Wenceslas originates from a medieval Latin springtime poem. More than anyone else, he made English-speaking congregations aware of the centuries-old tradition of Latin, Greek, Russian, and Syrian hymns. The 1875 edition of the Hymns Ancient and Modern contains 58 of his translated hymns; The English Hymnal (1906) contains 63 of his translated hymns and 6 original hymns by Neale. They include ‘All Glory, Laud and Honour’, ‘All people that on earth do dwell’, ‘Of the Father's Heart Begotten’, ‘O come, O come, Emmanuel’, and ‘Sing, My Tongue, the Glorious Battle’.

Aged only 54, Neale died on 6 August 1866, the Feast of the Transfiguration, so the Anglican church commemorates him the following day, 7 August.

Poetry in the Bible

The Jewish people loved playing with words. Unfortunately, it’s often not easy to see this in modern translations because the text has been rendered into straightforward English.

The vocabulary of the Hebrew language is limited, so words have to be stretched and arranged in calculated ways if any precision or colour is to be gained.

For these reasons, the ancient Jews loved poetry, and delighted in sophisticated word play. The Bible, and particularly the Old Testament, abound in clever puns and alliteration, and colourful metaphors. In this way, the meaning of the words comes alive.

 The Bible also abounds in poetry. Most of the prophets used poetry extensively; or, at the least, their speeches readily lent themselves to written preservation in poetic form. This use of poetry is sometimes indicated in modern Bibles by the typesetter’s layout.

One of the most powerful techniques in Hebrew poetry is parallelism. Here, a sentence states a fact. The very next sentence says exactly the same thing but in different words and images. Consider Psalm 19:1 ‘The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.’ The two halves of the verse say the same but in wholly different ways.

At other times, though, the second sentence manages to expand the first, which helps explain the meaning. Consider Psalm 23:2, ‘He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters.’ The second half tells us why the pastures are green: the grass is irrigated by water! Incidentally, the creation of men and women in Genesis 1:27 is best understood when read in this light. It says, ‘God created man in his own image … male and female he created them.’ By recognising that Hebrew poetry employs parallelism, we are to understand that God’s image in humankind is made complete when there are both male and female. To address God as ‘he’ is simplistic.

Some books of the Bible not only use poetic language but are collections of poetry and song. In the Old Testament, these books are located after the histories and before the prophets. They comprise: Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs.

Job is probably the oldest book in the bible. It comprises a philosophical study on the age-old question of suffering. Some of its poetry is gemlike: try Job 19.

Psalms is the longest book of the bible at 150 chapters. Perhaps as many as half were penned by King David. Other writers include King Solomon and the shadowy King Lemuel. The psalms describe every possible human emotion from blinding anger, via contrition and pain, to bliss.

Proverbs is traditionally regarded as the work of King Solomon, but the actual book itself suggests several other additional authors. The book is philosophical by nature and filled with short, pithy sayings. Its aim is to educate its readers, guarding them against moral error.

Finally come Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs, which are also ascribed to King Solomon, although Song of Songs is anonymous, and Ecclesiastes only mentions ‘the teacher’ and ‘son of David, king of Jerusalem.’

Hebrew does not have the word ‘very,’ so biblical Hebrew repeats itself for emphasis: the most holy place in the temple is ’the holy of holies’ and Jesus is ’King of kings and Lord of lords.’ It’s a very Jewish way of emphasising the biggest, best, or most important.  As 1 Kings 4:32 describes King Solomon writing five thousand and five songs, it was perhaps natural to name the best of them, ‘The song of songs.’ Similarly, the book of Ecclesiastes explores the ‘vanity of vanities.’

Ecclesiastes is one of the more surprising books in the Bible. It is difficult to judge whether the book contains the views of a man so used to pleasure he has become cynical and bored, or whether it is intended as a philosophical treatise. At first sight, its dismissal of life seems to come from someone who’s seen it all—and then rejected it. Indeed, it’s a dark reflection on the apparent futility of existence: as the author says repeatedly, ‘everything is meaningless.’ But Ecclesiastes also includes moments of humour, lightness, and passages of startling and startling beauty.

The book begins with a bang: ‘ “nothing makes sense!” cries the teacher “Everything is nonsense”.’ It’s saying life seems pointless and can be boring (1:8).

The Song of Songs says that humankind can reach satisfaction through love. As a further example of parallelism, Ecclesiastes then tells us that we cannot obtain satisfaction through knowledge alone.

Arrow prayers

It best to prepare before praying. But sometimes a situation arises and we need to pray straightaway. Perhaps we are in danger or scared; perhaps we fear for someone we love.

God created in us the instinct to seek His help, and a short prayer escapes our lips unbidden. It’s usually an unconscious thought rather than a thought-through sentiment. Perhaps it remains secret in our heart but if said aloud, it will probably sound something like, ‘Thank you!’ or ‘Help!’ or ‘Lord save me /him / her!’ or ‘Do something!’

The prayer flies from our lips and heart just like an arrow winging from a bow that points heavenward. And like a bow, the force of the prayer comes from the tension behind a bow: the prayer is sincere in proportion to the emotion of the situation causing the prayer.

Scripture reports many arrow prayers. Probably the most famous is vocalised by St Peter when he tried walking on water

Early in the morning Jesus came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’

Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. When Peter noticed the strong wind, he became frightened and, beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’             Matthew 14:25–30

Peter’s ‘Lord save me!’ here is a perfect example of an arrow prayer. Scripture also records Jesus praying arrow prayers. Two examples from the Cross include, ‘I thirst!’ (John 19:28) or ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matthew 28:46).

These arrow prayers all seek help, but they could offer praise or thanks instead. They reflect the underlying mind set of the person praying at the moment when they prayed. Perhaps this observation explains why arrow prayers are rarely scripted because so often they arise from the unconscious.

Did you know -- prable of the Prodigal Son

Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them … The younger son returned. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.’ Luke 15:11–32

Jesus’ ‘parable of the prodigal son’ is one of his longest in the Gospels, but possibly also the easiest to misunderstand.

The word ‘prodigal’ means the younger son was prodigiously wasteful. The parable’s old title of ‘prodigal’ son is therefore misleading because the real force of the story centres around the father figure.

The story starts when one son asks to receive his portion of the inheritance early, before his father had died. To a Middle-Eastern audience, this son was saying that he wished his father was already dead.

Near the end of the same parable, Jesus describes the father running toward the son when he decided to return. In fact, any respectable first-century man would never even think of running in public: it showed a state of being unprepared, fright, or merely poor morals. It meant shame. That the father ran toward his son therefore emphasises the father’s complete and urgent desire to re-establish the bond of love.
Jesus told the parable to ordinary people, and it’s quite likely it could apply to us. Its message is that we, too, can behave and live as though God was dead, not wanting to wait for Heaven but preferring to living in a state of ‘here and now’. But, Jesus assures us, even if we do live that way, God desires us, yearns for us, and looks for us. At the first hint of our returning to Him, He will meet us more than half way: He will do any-
thing to demonstrate His overwhelming live.