“We thank you for the inspiration and strength

That you have given to Madiba,

Enabling him, over so many years, to draw out the best in others,

rousing us always, by word and example,

to seek the highest good for every child of this nation.”

So prayed Archbishop Thabo Makgoba with Nelson Mandela in his home in 2009 at the request of Graca Machel. This marked the start of an unusual relationship between southern Africa’s Anglican leader and Mandela in his quietening years. Join Makgoba in his journey towards faith, from his boyhood in Alex as the son of a ZCC pastor to Bishopscourt and praying with Mandela. He shares his feelings about his pastoral approach to the world icon, and how they influenced his thinking on ministering to church and nation in the current era. What did praying with those nearest and dearest to Mandela mean? What was his spirituality? In trying to answer these questions, Makgoba opens a window on South Africa’s spiritual make-up and life.

A down-to-earth book which explains the essential Anglican approach to worship, the scriptures, spirituality, doctrine, rityeaosial and moral questions, dialogue with people of other faiths and much more.

This is the first of Newman's Anglican works to be presented in a fully annotated edition. Newman published the first two editions in 1836 and 1837 at the height of his career within the Oxford Movement. The third edition was published in 1877, when Newman had been a Roman Catholic for thiry-two years. It represents a dialogue between the Evangelical Anglican, Anglo-Catholic, and Roman Catholic Newman. As such it is a critical work in understanding Newman's development, as well as the impact of his thought on the larger Christian Church in his century and even in this one as it comes to a close. The text of this edition is based on the edition of 1889 (with obvious errors and misprints silently corrected), the edition to be seen through the press by Newman before his death in 1890; its pagination is preserved in the margin alongside the present text to facilitate reference to the uniform edition of the collected works. The text is supplemented by an introduction and textual appendix which lists all the variant readings between the editions of 1836, 1837, 1877 and the final edition.

This book challenges the domination of the institutional church as the overriding concern of nineteenth-century religious history by taking as its starting point the nature and expression of religious ideas outside the immediate sphere of the church within the wider arena of popular culture. It considers in detail how these beliefs formed part of a richly textured language of personal, familial, and popular identity in the day-to-day lives of the inhabitants of the London Borough of Southwark between c.1880 and the outbreak of the Second World War. The study highlights the persistence of patterns dismissed as alien to the industrial and urban environment. The interaction of folk idioms with institutional religious language and practice is also considered and urban popular religion is identified as a distinctive system of belief in its own right. This study also pioneers a methodology for exploring belief and interpreting it as a popular cultural phenomenon. A wide range of source materials are drawn on including oral history. Centrality is given to understanding the ways in which individuals expressed and communicated their religious ideas.

Ranging from the medieval period to the present day, this is a brief history of church music as it has developed through the English tradition. Described as "a quick journey", it provides a broad historical survey rather than an in-depth study of the subject, and also predicts likely future trends.

A scholarly and original study of the Church of England in the reign of Charles I, Davies's detailed analysis of religious policy and ecclesiastical practice offers a bold new interpretation of the Caroline Church, firmly based on documentary evidence. Davies examines the roles of Charles I and of Archbishop Laud, demonstrating both Laud's essential conservatism in religious matters and Charles's highly personal notion of sacramental kingship which he was attempting to realize through his prerogative as Supreme Governor of the Church. As a vital arm in the political apparatus of the state and as the vehicle for Caroline ideology, the established church under Charles I became more highly politicized than ever before. Julian Davies reassesses the significance of doctrinal Arminianism in the seventeenth-century church, taking issue with a number of scholars. He brings to the forefront of the debate constitutional issues which have recently been underplayed. His book makes an important contribution to a controversial area of historical study.

Frederick William Dwelly died over 50 years ago, but his vision for the place of worship that both made and broke him still pervades. His influence is there in the philosophy of inclusion that typifies the Cathedral's religious and educational activities; in the liveliness and relevance of services; and even in the rust and unbleached cotton of the cassocks and surplices, and the cream, black and red of special service papers. In the estimation of many eminent figures in the Church of England Dwelly was nothing short of a liturgical genius, but one whose life history could so very easily be lost. It was this realisation that spurred former Cathedral Education Officer Peter Kennerley to embark upon research into the great man's life and legacy. Using letters, sermons, newspapers and the testimony of those still alive who knew him, the author paints a fascinating, though inevitably incomplete, portrait of a truly inspirational man who was full of contradictions. He was ground-breakingly liberal in his views about interdenominational cooperation, but he could also be dictatorial. He knew how to make everyone who was involved with the Cathedral feel valued, but though widely loved he was greatly held in awe. It was certainly impossible to say 'no' to the first Dean of Liverpool Cathedral! Such a mixture of character traits is, however, what made Dwelly such an attractive, charismatic and effective dean. His foibles were at once his weakness and his strength; yes, he was less than perfect, but in the end his human faults merely served to make people warm to him. This is the book that might never have been written. For Peter Kennerley, the sifting of the archives has been a huge challenge which at times he has doubted his ability to overcome. The material available to him has been both copious and tantalisingly vague, and he has had to distil from it the essence of a man who in many ways is impossible to portray with total clarity. What is certain is that everyone who knew the Dean, everyone who knows the Cathedral, as well as all students of religious and liturgical history, will be grateful to the author for committing to posterity the life and work of such an intriguing, controversial and pivotal figure, and for doing it so well.