It has been reported that there has been a surprise surge in Christian conversion on the Continent: a so-called “Baptism Boom”.
For example, the number of adult baptisms in France has increased by 30%, from 5,463 in 2023 to 7,135 in 2024, as reported at the French bishops’ conference on March 27. Of particular interest is that the number of baptisms of adolescents — those aged 11 to 17 — has also sharply increased, from 2,861 in 2023 to 5,025 in 2024. Likewise, over the border in Belgium, the number of adult baptisms has nearly doubled in the last decade, from 186 in 2014 to 362 in 2024.
Similarly, the Church of England has reported an increase in church attendance of young people. Where, in 2018, the recorded percentage of young people was 4%, by 2024 this had increased to 16%.
Especially with the international socio-political climate as turbulent as it is, this uptake in faith offers a timely insight into the reassurance the ancient rhythms of faith can provide.
Cathedral cope in 'Stag' Cloth of Gold, with hand-embroidered hood.
However, finding your feet in faith can feel uncertain. We are invited to share in the mystery of Christ, but at the same time look to that mystery for clarity. This paradox can be seen in our Cathedral Cope in ‘Stag’ Cloth of Gold with hand embroidery.
The unavoidable truth about this cope is that it is bright; executed in a rich gold brocade, the cope is designed to have a powerful presence. But this brightness is neither crass nor garshish, far from it. Imagined in the low dim of processional candle light, this fabric comes to life. Catching the glimmer of candle flame - shifting, reflecting and reacting - the raised pattern of the brocade shines brighter, with the base weft creating shaded depth. This is not two-dimensional, but rather a dynamic, water-like, presence that brings moments of clarity as well as obscurity, inviting its viewer to engage with both the mystery and light of Christ.
This contrast is further emphasised in the hood. Where a mixture of deep Burgundy velvet and the vivid gold brocade in the cope creates a clear and pointed material contrast that amplifies the legibility of the cope. Surmounting this scheme of mystery and light is an embroidered Chi-Rho in Japanese gold thread. The Chi-Rho (☧), consisting of the Greek letters Chi (Χ) and Rho (Ρ), is a Christogram utilising the first two letters of ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ (Christos), the Greek word for “Christ.” By so dominantly surmounting the material scheme with the Chi-rho, the cope and hood together create certainty, seamlessly contrasting the mystery of the cope with the light of Christ’s presence in the Chi-Rho.
The full handmade set, at Saint Ignatius of Antioch Episcopal Church in New York.
The Chi-Rho is also salient for its importance to the history of Christian conversion and baptism, as the symbol we most associate with the socio-theological importance of Constantine converting western civilisation to Christianity.
Emperor Constantine, himself, converted to Christianity in 312 AD. There are two near contemporary accounts which record this monumental moment in history: Eusebius of Caesarea’s Vita Constantini and Lactantius’s De Mortibus Persecutorum. In particular, the former offers a rich visual description of Constantine’s conversion’s impact on the importance of symbols still used in Christianity. Written after Constantine’s death, Eusebius’ is the most detailed account of his conversion.
Eusebius states that Constantine begins to contemplate Christianity after reflecting on the downfall of those who have ‘met with an unhappy end, while not one of their gods had stood by to warn them of the impending wrath of heaven.’ As those who believed in numerous gods, or practised idol worship, faced hardship, a lack of heirs and shameful deaths, Constantine took a leap of faith, as ‘one alone,’ to pursue ‘an entirely opposite course’ knowing instead that ‘God of his father had given to him, on the other hand, manifestations of his power.’
Notably, Eusebius makes a point of stating that Constantine’s choice was not a popular one. Indeed, in an irreligious society today - especially if you are a younger demographic - it is not always easy to stand alone from your peers in that belief.
With confidence in his faith, Constantine, marching with his army, likely before the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 AD, decided to call ‘on him with earnest prayer and supplications that he would reveal to him who he was, and stretch forth his right hand to help him in his present difficulties.’ What Eusebius describes is a human in a moment of great need who desperately wanted some kind of reassurance that the faith he was stepping into alone would give him the grace to guide him - he wanted to know God in a way that would not be lost on us today.
Gianfrancesco Penni, The Baptism of Constantine, 1517-1524, The Vatican.
As a consequence of ‘praying with fervent entreaty, a most marvellous sign appeared to him from heaven.’ When he looked up to the sun, Constantine saw a ‘cross of light in the heavens’ accompanied by the Greek “ἐν τούτῳ νίκα”, meaning “in this, conquer.”
Constantine was unsure of the meaning of the apparition. However, according to Eusebius, the following night, he had a vision-like dream in which ‘God appeared to him with the same sign which he had seen in the heavens, and commanded him to make a likeness of that sign which he had seen in the heavens, and to use it as a safeguard in all engagements with his enemies.’ This is a direct command from God, which Constantine takes up with immediacy; Eusebius makes no comment about Constantine hesitating, despite the fact that the legitimacy of Constantine's claims were questioned and ridiculed. Instead, he instructed the creation of a magnificent military standard:
‘A long spear, overlaid with gold, formed the figure of the cross by means of a transverse bar laid over it. On top of the whole was fixed a wreath of gold and precious stones; and within this, the symbols of the Saviour’s name, two letters indicating the name of Christ by means of its initial characters, the letter P being intersected by X in its centre,… from the cross-bar of the spear was suspended a cloth, a royal piece, covered with a profuse embroidery… which, also being richly interlaced with gold, presented an indescribable degree of beauty to the beholder.’
Indeed, this account of Constantine’s vision is beautifully evoked in the defiant, bright shine of the gold in our Cathedral Cope. Executed in rich Cloth of Gold, the silk blend of the cope is redolent with symbolism and images from the Psalms and is woven in our mill in England with a level of detail that is second to none.
Christ’s Emblem Appears to Constantine, Peter Paul Rubens, 1622, Philadelphia Museum of Art
Indeed, gold is traditionally associated with majesty, divinity, and the glory of God. Therefore, there are visual and theological similarities to be drawn between the intensity of the gold in our cope and the light of the heavens as God shows Constantine a vision of his faith, the intensity of our gold in the brocade evoking both the startling brightness of the vision Constantine experienced, and also more explicitly signifying the presence of God in this light.
Moreover, the choice of the stag, a familiar Christian symbol, signifies the quest for God and God’s presence in the world, a detail of particular resonance to the story of Constantine, who calls out to God to reveal himself, who does so in the form of the startling light.
The set being hand-stitched in our London workroom.
Following his victory, Constantine made the Chi-Rho a central emblem of his rule and Christianity. He placed it on coins, shields, banners, and public buildings. This is supported in Constantine’s use of the Labarum - the military standard used by Constantine in his later wars against Licinius - demonstrating his continued use of the Chi-Rho symbol as instructed by Christ. Thus, as a result of Constantine’s dissemination of the symbol, it was quietly adopted more widely by Early Christians with discretion who were hesitant to depict the cross openly due to lingering tensions.
There is a lovely example of how this symbol crossed the borders of Rome through the network of the Empire. The Hinton St Mary Mosaic is a marvellous survival of this post-Constantine trickle of conversion. A central circle depicts a portrait bust of a man wearing a pallium standing before the Chi-Rho. It is predominantly believed that the figure represents the oldest known depiction of Christ, but this has held debate. To some, the presence of the Chi-Rho might mean that the figure was Constantine himself.
Arguably, something interesting about this confusion of attribution is that, whichever figure you believe it to represent, it is clear that the Chi-Rho became closely bound with the conversion narrative of Constantine, that the presence of this symbol imbued both: Constantine was just as important for the proliferation of conversion across the Empire as Christ’s teachings were.
Eusebius makes a salient comment about this in his Vita Constantini: ‘Constantine convinced mankind through his actions as well as his words.’ It is through Constantine’s legitimisation of the Chi-Rho, amongst other symbols in the Edict of Milan in 313 AD, that mosaics like those at Hinton were allowed to be executed out of the shadows of catacombs and above ground in public places of worship.
Here, in our cope, this symbol of faith in the shadows of persecution is met with a resounding acclimation. Far from discreet or ambiguous, our Chi-Rho is surrounded by a radiant sunburst, evoking that same bright sun of Constantine’s vision and also echoing the Bright Sun of Christianity. Symbolising hope, positivity, and clarity, it serves as a beacon during dark and despairing times.
The appliquéd form of the lettering and radiant sunburst is physically raised from the darkness of the rich burgundy velvet, demonstrating how, when your trust is placed in God, the light can always lift you from the darkness.
What better message can be hoped for in a world torn by war, famine, and intolerance?
