It was the year
of the Great Covid Panic. The Church of England
had hastily decided to close all its churches,
without perhaps thinking through the consequences
of its actions. Of course, it might well be that
the worst pandemic for several generations would
not have been a time when lots of people might
have been grateful for the chance to sit in a
church and talk to God about it. Various churches
enthusiastically advertised their on-line
presence, as if this was the evangelistic
opportunity they had been waiting for, but for
those of us who are not members of any particular
congregation but who visit churches for a variety
of other reasons, perhaps bringing a great grief
or worry before God, or wondering at the powerful
sense of the numinous that a visit to a church
can bring, streamed
internet services and zoom prayer meetings would
never be a sufficient substitute. Of course, most of Suffolk's country
churches are open all day every day under normal
circumstances, and it must have caused
churchwardens and their local communities great
sadness to be told to close their churches
against the people of God (the several that I
know of who refused to do so have great riches in
store). But it probably didn't worry the
congregation at Witnesham too much because this
is a church that over a number of visits in the
last quarter of a century I have never found
open.
You might wonder at this,
because Witnesham is not a small place. It is basically outer Ipswich
suburbia, but from the busy main road it appears
two quite separate villages, either side of the
Fynn valley. Both sides are quite attractive, but
the road in between is a wide, steep race track,
and not at all recommended to cyclists. At the
bottom of the dip is a narrow lane leading off
into the woods and fields, and you are suddenly
plunged into deepest rural Suffolk, with an old
school, a field of horses and an overgrown
churchyard. It is like stepping back a hundred
years.
Although
the church underwent a considerable 19th Century
restoration, this was done fairly early on, and
this is still substantially a large church
typical of the 14th Century, with a clerestory
raising the roof on the eve of the Reformation. A
small aisle is tucked neatly into the side of the
south-facing tower which doubles as the porch, as
is common in the Ipswich area. The north side is
starker, and if an aisle was planned beneath the
clerestory, it was never built.
This
remains one of fewer than a dozen Suffolk
churches that I have not seen inside. Sam
Mortlock suggests that the interior was restored
with more taste than imagination, for the font
was recut and the floor relaid. The woodwork is
attributed to the great Henry Ringham whose fine
work can be seen nearby at Great Bealings (the
church there is already open daily again after
the Great Covid Panic, incidentally). An
interesting survival of the 18th Century is the
set of painted texts in panels on the walls, as
at Hemingstone.
One
more thing. On the gate of the churchyard was a
sign saying Sorry the church is no longer
open for private prayer. I was very
surprised to see this because I had not thought
Witnesham church had ever been open for private
prayer. Had there been a brief moment that I had
not known of? Wondering if I had missed my
window, I headed off to cycle back up the hill.
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