I have a bachelor, clerical friend who will only drink tea made in a proper teapot. He believes that adding water to a teabag in a mug produces an inferior beverage. He also likes the tea to brew for a few minutes before pouring, by which time, he complains, it is no longer hot enough. So last year I knitted the above tea cosy for him, to fit his one cup teapot.
(When I blogged about knitting a few weeks ago he had the cheek to tell me I couldn’t spell “pearl”!)
When he complains that his breakfast egg gets cold and he needs an egg cosy I shall show him this headline from the Daily Telegraph of April 22nd.
“Come on men . . . knit one, purl one and find some inner peace”
Apparently mindfulness and yoga don’t work for men. Only women can meditate successfully. The affect on a man is the reverse of the tranquillity and calm those practices are supposed to induce.
“Since this is only making matters worse, there is no point making the poor sods sit cross-legged a minute longer,” the writer of the article explains and she goes on to make helpful suggestions for alternative activities, such as bubble baths, cleaning the toilet and knitting.
Knitting is an excellent suggestion. In fact, I would recommend it to all clergy and given the state of the Anglican Church in the UK at the moment it could well be the most constructive thing they could do. The results could well be astonishing.
Knitting and the church have a long history. Although the beginning of knitting is lost in the mists of time, possibly having its origin in Egypt, the church has always known a good thing when it saw one. Artists soon had the Madonna knitting.
Where artists went it didn’t take Bishops long to follow. Bishops were wearing liturgical gloves—Greek “chirotheca” handcases—made of white silk as early as the seventh century, by the ninth century they were the “in” thing and by the 12th century instructions for their use were given in the Service Books of the time.
Who knows whether Nicholaus knitted his own gloves. He could well have done if he were anything like Richard Rutt, one time Bishop of Leicester. Rutt was a formidable linguist, acting as a Japanese naval translator during the War, and becoming a noted Korean scholar as a result of his years in Korea where he also became a bishop. On becoming Bishop of St German’s, in the diocese of Truro, he not only learned Cornish but translated the ASB into that language. In 1987 he published “A History of Hand Knitting”, one of the all time great books on the subject.
He was also a memorably good bishop.
In his Times obituary we were told: Dr Ronald Williams, (Rutt’s predecessor as bishop) “was conscious of the status of a bishop of the Established Church; Rutt taught the diocese the function of a bishop…. he had a strong pastoral sense, a serene personality, cared greatly for his clergy and sought to devise a modern missionary strategy.”
As a fellow knitter, though with nowhere near his technical ability, I am quite sure he drew much of his strength from the time he spent quietly knitting. Using the hands with a fairly repetitive task is perfect for encouraging the mind to roam and, at the end, you have a decorative work of art or a useful object. In Rutt’s case both.
I couldn’t find a photo of this mitre in colour but I have been told, by the tea cosy friend, that Rutt had knitted it in gold thread and when the light shone on it it looked as though it had been made of beaten gold.
I wonder if we would have better bishops if they all took up knitting—an art, a craft and an excellent meditation technique.