Sunday. Sue and I went to Canterbury Cathedral for worship this morning. The sermon, preached by the Dean, the Very Rev. Robert Willis, was excellent. He is a thoughtful and able wordsmith, a poet who has written some of the most substantive and moving hymn texts of our own time. It was a privilege to hear him preach. The music offered by the Cathedral Choir of Men and Boys was evanescent and beautiful. The liturgy of the Eucharist, presided over by the Archbishop of Canterbury, was at the same time both dignified and eminently accessible. Despite the lofty context, it was very down to earth.
What most captured my attention, and thus my prayer, was the space itself. Anything but down to earth, it is huge and soaring, the great columns of the nave drawing the eye and the heart high up to the vaulted ceilings, imposing on mere humans a humility of size, if of nothing else. Looking up, it is hard to imagine that much space being indoors. The building is so massive, and the space it encloses so voluminous, it could only be God’s house.
Looking down on Canterbury Cathedral from the campus of the University of Kent, one can see what an immense amount of space is carved out of the atmosphere and enclosed by it. Looking up at it from within, its cavernous form offers me a spiritual challenge. This great church was built by human hands, stone by stone, to enclose a huge space specifically for the sacred, a huge space carved out of the busy-ness of life, in which to be with God. All around it is room for industry, commerce, agriculture, transportation, and residence. But in it, in this largest of all Canterbury’s spaces, there is room only for being with God, and thus, with whatever and whoever is beloved of God. The challenge to which it points is, of course, the one to which Jesus consistently pointed, that of making a similar space in ourselves for being with God, and making it big enough that it will dominate our spiritual landscape. Such a complementary, internal space within us will, by God’s grace, be big enough both for God and for all whom God cherishes. Today I add another stone.
What most captured my attention, and thus my prayer, was the space itself. Anything but down to earth, it is huge and soaring, the great columns of the nave drawing the eye and the heart high up to the vaulted ceilings, imposing on mere humans a humility of size, if of nothing else. Looking up, it is hard to imagine that much space being indoors. The building is so massive, and the space it encloses so voluminous, it could only be God’s house.
Looking down on Canterbury Cathedral from the campus of the University of Kent, one can see what an immense amount of space is carved out of the atmosphere and enclosed by it. Looking up at it from within, its cavernous form offers me a spiritual challenge. This great church was built by human hands, stone by stone, to enclose a huge space specifically for the sacred, a huge space carved out of the busy-ness of life, in which to be with God. All around it is room for industry, commerce, agriculture, transportation, and residence. But in it, in this largest of all Canterbury’s spaces, there is room only for being with God, and thus, with whatever and whoever is beloved of God. The challenge to which it points is, of course, the one to which Jesus consistently pointed, that of making a similar space in ourselves for being with God, and making it big enough that it will dominate our spiritual landscape. Such a complementary, internal space within us will, by God’s grace, be big enough both for God and for all whom God cherishes. Today I add another stone.
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1 comment:
More than any other reports I have read, the Bishop's blog conveys a perspective both thoughtful and immediate. I am grateful for the reflections and find they offer useful advice in assessing what is going on. The bishop's point about listening for feelings rather than for words is particularly helpful.
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