Storyteller: There's more to our old churches than meets the eye

I’m not especially religious, I just like studying the architecture and the ornamentation. It's fun seeking out the pagan Green Man amongst the ceiling bosses, or admiring the ornately carved rood screens, with accompanying rood lofts, some of which were blocked up at the behest of Queen Elizabeth I, our first Protestant Queen.
Sometimes it’s heart-breaking to find that some of the iconography on those wooden screens has been defaced by people of differing faiths, but that also makes history come to life, because we know those things happened.
I’m also really excited about finding examples of the new feature I’ve discovered, known as the Devil’s Door, many of which have long since been bricked up, also by the Protestants, when their faith was dominant. I’ve recently found some that seem to have escaped this edict in local churches. The question is how? The purpose of these north facing doors, was to allow the Devil to exit when he was exorcised during baptisms, and they were opened only for those services, locked the rest of the time to keep him out. Protestants didn’t approve of this practice, so they put a stop to it.
During the course of my research into old and ruinous churches, I’ve sometimes come across more than I’d bargained for, finding some to have atmospheres not as religious as you might expect.
This idea was compounded by a recent phone call, from someone who had just had an unusual experience in their local church. She was referred to me by a mutual acquaintance, who knows I investigate such things. She told me she was visiting the church as she is interested in stained glass windows. Finding it closed, she took a look around the outside of the building, where her attention was drawn to an ornate porch, with steps leading up to it, that covers the southern entrance.
The archway to the doorway is adorned with some unusual carvings that resemble dead birds, or possibly eyes, staring down at you. They are painted black, so that they stand out against the lighter surrounding stonework. As she studied them, trying to figure out their meaning on a place of worship, she felt an inexplicable feeling of dread come over her, compelling her to get away from the place...instead she found herself rooted to the spot!
She had to struggle with herself inwardly, to get her feet moving. In the end, she had to grab hold of one of the pillars to literally drag herself away. Leaving the church grounds as quickly as she could, her mind sought answers for what had just occurred, which is why she ended up calling me. As it happened, I knew exactly which church she was referring to, as I had visited it with my friend, David Hammond, during one of our recording sessions for his radio show.
The only difference being, I was distracted from the ornamentation, by some handwritten graffiti on the old wooden door. It wasn’t “tagging”, or a blatant act of vandalism, this was a message aimed at a certain person to read and understand. It wasn’t particularly religious, in fact it made me feel uncomfortable, and that’s why we left the area.
It would appear the words have been removed, for in a picture my caller sent me, can be seen a newly scrubbed section of woodwork. As promised, I did a bit of research into this church, and turned up quite a bit about its history, including descriptions of its architecture, but nothing about the intriguing southern entrance. In fact, one writer went as far as saying that this area wouldn’t be included in his write up, without explaining why, suggesting there might be something to hide...the research continues.
This conversation reminded me of my own unexpected experiences whilst exploring churches. Once, whilst visiting the market town of Marlborough, we spotted a sign outside an old church indicating there was a cafe and market stalls within, so we went to check them out. We came across the stalls just inside the doors, so we had a browse. The cafe was on the far side, and as we turned to head in that direction, I was shocked to notice that the space leading up to the altar was completely bare, all the pews had been removed.
The altar itself, and the stained glass windows, were all well preserved, and beautifully lit, but the rest of the church just looked naked. As I walked across the empty space, to take a closer look, I was suddenly struck by an inexplicable feeling of loss and depression, whilst, at the same time, finding it had to breath, almost like a panic attack. It felt like someone or something was putting their own feelings upon me, like they didn’t approve of what was happening around them, but were powerless to do anything about it. I couldn’t get out of there quick enough, and felt much better back out in the fresh air, when the sensations started to leave me, but I’ve never forgotten that experience.
The only other time I’ve had these feelings was when my friend, Bob Mann, took me to a redundant church in Dartmouth. Nowadays, it has been converted into flats and a business, but at the time of our visit, it was being used as a second hand bookshop, as well as offering help to the homeless. As I wandered amongst the floor to ceiling high bookcases, all crammed with books, I eventually found myself at the back wall of the building perusing the last stack, where suddenly I was overcome by an overwhelming feeling of sadness, followed by a sense of panic, making me want to get out of that spot as quickly as possible. The rest of the building felt quite welcoming, even if it did smell a bit musty from all the old books, and the odd feelings left me as swiftly as they had arrived.
Maybe sacred sites retain a spirit of place, that feels aggrieved when they are no longer used for the purpose for which they were intended, and maybe they can pass these feelings on to sensitive people when they come near. In either case, I intend to continue my investigations into old churches, as they are still some of my favourite places to visit.