Now, it is the day of my death to life, and of my death to death. The bishop, resplendent in rich, shining black vestments, is reciting the “Rite for the Enclosing of an Anchoress”. I am the focus of the rite. I have spent the previous night in prayer and vigil and I have fasted for some days. Earlier on this day, I made my confession. Now is the Mass for the Dead during which all present pray for me as I lie prostrated before the altar. The mass ends and I arise and follow the bishop in procession with the others of the congregation. I carry a lighted taper. We all process from the church to the door of the anchorhold, but only I and the bishop cross its threshold. In some anchorholds there is a pre-dug grave but my cell is not one of these. Nevertheless, the bishop administers the Last R
