I've read your posts, Stanley, and find them most thought provoking. It seems you have been seeking for a long time and (as Jesus Himself promised) have found, or are on the point of finding. No, I didn't mean to imply anything one way or the other in the bit you quoted, other than to point out that the verse of the hymn by JSB Monsell appears, to some degree, to run contrary the reputation of the church he was rector of. Of course well over a century has passed since his time, and I have practically no information on what went on in the intervening years. My (rather rambling) post was motivated more by Carol's comments a couple of days ago than anything else.
But I do find what you have been saying very interesting, indeed instructive. In some ways there is a parallel between your experience and mine, in the sense that we have both experienced a movement in what would commonly (but simplistically) be seen as the direction low -> high. My roots were in the Open Brethren, as I mentioned (I don't know if you know of them, they're fairly well known in the USA). I cherish those early years for several reasons, but for other reasons I'm pleased to have moved on. Anything vaguely suggestive of symbolism was anathema to the Brethren - even a lace cloth on the communion table was considered idolatrous! The problem with the Brethren was (and to a large extent, still is) that they cannot distinguish between an icon and an idol. Hence robes of office worn by clergy ('elder' is the only office in the Brethren, though most now appoint deacons as well), stained-glass windows, a lace cloth for the communion table - even a wooden cross - is shunned. They are definitely neo-iconoclasts! It is only since I've 'become C of E' (it's official, I was confirmed!) that I have recognised the enormous value of symbolism. The Brethren's notion is that there is nothing of a visible or temporal nature that is either necessary or desirable in the worship of God (except of course the Sacraments themselves, which were specifically introduced by Jesus), but I have definitely moved away from that line of thinking. There is one particularly outstanding example in my recent experience, but I need to give a bit of background before relating it.
I live in a village called Cranleigh in the south of England. Although it's really too large to be considered a village in the usual sense (about 14,000 population), it is a self-contained rural community, separated from other nearby towns and villages by countryside, and a real sense of 'our local community' prevails. Because of this, and because it's in England, the local C of E Parish Church is considered by most to be 'the church'; virtually all those who only go to church on special occasions like Christmas and Easter, automatically go to the C of E. It wouldn't enter their heads to go anywhere else - we're English, so naturally we go to the Church of England (if we go anywhere at all). The C of E is still very much the church of the establishment in the minds of the English, particularly in rural and semi-rural areas. At one time of course it was the only church in Cranleigh: it was built in 1170 and there wouldn't have been any other sort of church here before the 18th century (though there may have been a small Roman Catholic following by the 17th century, just not sure; BTW website is ). But of course nowadays there are others: quite a lively and well attended Roman Catholic church, also a Baptist and Methodist, plus one or two small independent groups.
During the morning service on Good Friday, a massive wooden cross (8 or 10ft tall) is carried down the aisle and laid at the front of the chancel. Then someone, usually one of the youngsters, comes up to the cross and slowly hits it several times with a large hammer. The atmosphere this creates is quite amazing: it's as if we can sense the unimaginable tragedy of our Lord being put to death. Of course the feeling of tragedy is swept away on the Sunday, when the theme is naturally, Hallelujah, Christ is risen! After the service on Good Friday, the cross is carried by a couple of physically able men down the path to the lych gate, where we meet up with our Roman Catholic friends, and move off in procession to the centre of the village. There we hold an open-air service, relevant to the occasion, with those from the other churches attending. One year I was asked to be one of the cross bearers. It involved carrying it into the service, then afterwards carrying it down to the road and along the main street to the point where the outdoor service is held. For me it was one of the most significant occasions in my life: there I was, literally carrying this huge cross in full view of the public. I've never experienced a sense of following Christ's command in quite the same way, before or since: "you must take up your cross and follow me". As an aside, it turned out that as we met up with our RC friends on that occasion, the other cross bearer was called away so one of the Catholic men joined me as cross bearer. There we were: brothers in Christ, not agreeing in all things of course, but united in our determination to bear the cross of our Lord. It still brings tears to my eyes to think of it!
I still believe of course that one's own experience of Christ is personal, and carrying His cross involves sacrifice on my part, not merely carrying a chunk of wood down the road ("you must deny yourself, and take up the cross" - I'm not too good at the first part). But the value of this type of symbolism is inestimable, and I totally agree with your "not either/or, but as well as" concept.
I was becoming horribly afraid that your new found love of the RC Church was causing you to place the mother above the Son. Thanks for the clarification.
). However, for me, statues of saints put up a barrier between me and God, so I feel uncomfortable where there are 'images' of people in a church. This is very much a matter of taste, though, I think. If others get something out of it, that's great - for them 
