the one about graveyards ...

 

St. James the Less Church & Graveyard, Scarsdale, New York, USA.

 

The question was: Who was St. James the Less? I hadn’t heard of him, and I thought I should have?

Although I’m a fervent atheist and ardent follower of writers such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens, I still harbour a keen interest in religious history, in general, and in Christian theology in particular. As well as having digested a number of books on these subjects, I’ve also read the Old and New testaments – cover to cover – a couple of times. I find them fascinating – if wholly fantastical.

As well as being the proverbial ‘heathen’, I’m also a confirmed Taphophile; that is, when time allows me the opportunity to do so, I love nothing better than to while away a few hours with a leisurely stroll through some old boneyard – and the older the better. Sauntering through the final resting places of people who most likely lived and died in the community in which they are now permanent resident’s gifts me an appreciation of how quickly time passes. Here, writ large and poignant, are the epitaphs of those who lived and died among us, their voices silenced now for eternity, but their final words remain etched, literally, in stone; “ … wonderful Son, taken too soon. Aged 23”; “ … beloved wife of Ian, aged 44  (and added later) … Ian, aged 73.”; “Amy … Gone from our sight, but never from our hearts. Aged 14”.

Also, in all the hustle and bustle of modern life, Graveyards have much to offer a weary soul: tranquillity for a start; they’re usually set aside from busy streets and offer little oasis’ of quietude; a haven from those excruciating layers of ambient noise which reverberate around us ALL the time: the growl of trucks, busses and cars; the low, hissy din which echoes throughout the shopping centres: squeaky trolleys, beeping label scanners, the disembodied, monotone announcements made through tinny sounding tanoy systems. In short, I find that graveyards offer a sanctuary for my soul; somewhere I can relax and appreciate the calming sound of silence.

While my penchant for walking among the deceased is largely practiced in graveyards local to home, I have, over years of travel through Europe and beyond, had the good fortune to visit a number of beautiful necropolises. I wish, now, that I’d taken note of their names and locations, and photographed the notable architecture of those Churches that invariably lie at their centre. I’ve started to do so now, but a failing memory won’t gift me the ability to recover a detailed, retrospective list.

Of course, while I love Churchyards, per se, some have been more memorable than others: the most expansive cemetery I’ve ever visited was that of Pere Lachaise in Paris. This is an enormous graveyard – the world’s first ‘Garden Cemetery’ - which houses many famous inhabitants such as singers Edith Piaff & Jim Morrisson (there is an enduring myth that, as Jim was interred – hurriedly - in the graveyards rather cramped ‘Poets Corner’, that he was buried standing up). Then there are composers Chopin and Rossini (though he ‘flitted’ later – but that’s a whole other story), and writers Marcel Proust, Gertrude Stein, Honore Balzac & Oscar Wilde, and actress Sarah Bernhardt – to name but a few characters from a very large directory of the deceased. Over 1,000,000 people are estimated to be interred within Pere Lachaise’s 110 acres.

One of the oldest Cemeteries I’ve visited was the Granary Burying Ground in Boston, Massachusetts, USA. This particular piece of real estate is not an exemplar of the quiet resting places I alluded to earlier though; this dominion of the departed is bounded on one side by the exceptionally busy Tremont Street, which runs through the heart of downtown Boston’s Harbour district. (Think Edinburgh’s Princes Street). Some of the headstones date back to the sixteen hundreds, and four hundred years of weathering have, unfortunately, left many of the inscriptions illegible. It’s a place of great significance to Americans though, as its meagre two acres provide eternal residence for several of America’s founding fathers and War of Independence heroes.

It is also the resting place of Samuel Sewall, one of nine Judges who conducted the infamous Witch Trials in the nearby township of Salem. These trials resulted in the demise of twenty-five innocent souls: nineteen were hanged, one was ‘pressed’ to death with heavy stones, and five died in prison while awaiting trial. Famously, four years after the executions, Sewall rose to his feet during a church service and confessed his guilt for the part he played in Salem’s fatal fiasco. He was the only judge ever to do so.

Anyway, I digress.

I had started this narrative with the mention of St. James the Less; confessing that I hadn’t come across his name the small anthology of history texts I’ve read. The reason his name came up at all was that, a few weeks past, while visiting family in New York state, I was walking down to the town centre when I came upon a Church baring his name. The church itself was pretty unremarkable; I don’t mean to decry it; it’s a lovely building, but it looks similar to many of the stone-built churches constructed around the mid 1800’s. What did catch my attention though, was the adjoining graveyard. It’s huge – in comparison to many of the British & European cemeteries I’ve ambled through.

The thing is, America enjoys a great abundance of that which Britain suffers a marked paucity of … and that is space!

British and European Churches were often constructed within existing towns and villages where their grounds were constrained by neighbouring buildings. As space was tight, their graveyards were – by and large – relatively modest, their lairs tightly arranged and, with no room left to expand outward, will often encroach on the church walls themselves.

Not so in America. The ‘New World’ had lots of space, and more to the point, their churches were often the first constructs to be raised in pioneer communities, so they enjoyed all the acreage they required to serve their congregations and to rest their dead.

The Church of James the Less is a perfect example of this abundance: the building itself being a large structure, it has copious car-parking facilities and its attendant graveyard is both broad and idyllic; the graves well spaced-out over trimmed and well-ordered lawns, many of the stones over-shaded with trees. Of course, I couldn’t resist taking a short stroll through this appealing kirkyard. And, this time, I remembered to take a few photographs.

I deliberately chose to take a winding route among the graves; stopping beside several lairs. I was intrigued by the fact that a number of headstones were decorated with small flags. It’s not a thing you see in Britain, and I haven’t come across this custom anywhere else. I discussed this with the family when I returned to the house and learned that these ‘Stars & Stripes’ – beacons of bright colour within the generic green palette of the graveyard - adorned the resting places of American Soldiers who had served in various conflicts. They are a mark of honour, remembrance and national gratitude, placed by family members and/or veterans associations; a beautiful tribute to those who had served their country.

Oh, and, just for clarity, Saint James the Less is traditionally identified as one of the twelve disciples who followed Jesus, though it’s argued by some scholars that he may also have been Jesus’s brother. He seems to have been a quiet sort and was never quoted directly in the gospels. He is reputed to have met his demise by being stoned to death while preaching in Syria, or to have been thrown from the top of a church in Jerusalem and then beaten to death. I’ve no idea where he was buried, though some sources say it was close to Temple Mount. As is the case with much of the bible, there’s no real evidence.