Canterbury

I was a Sophmore in high school when I was first introduced to Canterbury through the carefully spun tales of Chaucer. I remember learning the history of Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury's, untimely death (aka murder) inside the confines of the cathedral and the resulting sainthood he achieved through his martyrdom. I remember wondering why so many people would make a pilgrimmage, sometimes walking (or riding a horse, which isn't much more comfortable) for hundreds or even thousands of miles to see the grave of a dead guy. I think I have now solved this mystery.

As we entered the city somewhere around 4 pm, we were taken back by the sheer magesty of the cathedral on the sky line, eluminated in a bright amber glow amid the grey light of dusk. Shoppers and tourists strolled along the 2000 year old Roman city wall, almost perfectly in tact seemingly unaware of the mammoth stone sentinel behind them. Were it not for the traffic of a working day past, we would have fixed our eyes on the structure and studied its detail as we wound our way through the maze of tiny streets and roundabouts. But, we were in unknown territory, our son was tired of sitting and anxious for some exercise, and other cars seemed to materialize before our very eyes and our very bumper. Luckily, we escaped unscathed.

By the time we figured out how to pay for our parking at the lot (those "pay and display" places can be a little confusing) and had walked the several blocks to the city center, it was just after 5 pm. The little light that had lingered when we arrived was long gone and the city was shrouded in winter blackness. We strolled down the quaint streets, decorated for Christmas in lights and wreaths. Shoppers dashed in and out of shops that boasted late night hours in honor of the festive season. They were open until 8 pm!!! (We have yet to discover what the British do with themselves after 6pm. They seem to disappear or hybernate for the night hours and suddenly reappear in the morning hours. I'm of the opinion that they must be alergic to the dark, for once it becomes dark, the streets are deserted!) All of the shops usually close at 5 or 6pm, including the restaurants. And suddenly, as if by magic, the town empties as the English hurry to their little homes.

We, however, enjoyed the "extended" bustle of the shoppers. At 5pm, the mall was still pulsing with the beat of shoes against the cobblestones and the sound of musicians playing a merry tune. Bags were rustling in the wind and families seemed to be enjoying the warmer-than-usual weather of the evening. Vendors were still out selling potato jackets (baked potatoes with a variety of toppings) and sausages.

We stopped off at the Canterbury Christ Church Cathedral; seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of the Church of England. All of the Anglican church is guided from this one, massive building. We enjoyed the manger scene they had placed out front. Weslee excitedly pointed to baby Jesus and made sure the other kids saw Him as well.

We walked around and around the building. We noticed that during the Reformation, the building was relieved of all of it's "idols", or stone statues of the Catholic saints. During the following centuries since then, the places have been filled with stone images of England's own saints. There are statues of every king and queen, including the infamous King Henry VIII who started the Church of England because he wanted to marry Anne Bolyne and divorce his first wife, Catherine. All of the Archbishops are present. And poor Thomas Becket, the saint the cathedral is most known for, stands in all of his stony glory without a head. It's almost like it wasn't enough to kill him in real life, they had to behead his statue too.

We got to enter the church and hear a part of the even song service. The organist was amazing and Kevin was able to audio record a little of it. I don't think I've ever heard an organist's fingers move so fast. It was beautiful and sort of haunting as the music filled the cavernous nave of the church.

As I left, I realized that the early pilgrims didn't come so much to see the stained glass likeness of Thomas Becket, his beheaded statue, or even to commune with a dead guy. I think they came for the grandeur of the cathedral itself. I think they came to feel that there was something bigger than humanity, and the cathedral certainly gives that feeling. At the end of the long, uncomfortable journey, I think they wanted reassurance that there was someone or something bigger than their problems and their earthly woes. It's interesting that throughout all of recorded history, man always looks for something higher than himself to make sense of the madness here on earth.