Christchurch Cathedral

Canterbury is a really beautiful town to experience. The streets are quiet, the people are nice, and the Three Tuns pub has suddenly entered my top ten restaurant list, if only because the walls had quotes from Chaucer written into the woodwork. And then oc course there is the church…
Yes, I think I’ve become decided on a very momentous and possibly life-altering decision- I’m going to move to England and live in the wooden rafters of Canterbury’s gorgeous and august Christchurch Cathedral. I haven’t yet worked out the smaller details yet- How will I break into the church? Where will I sleep? How do I haul groceries, bed linens and personal items up an eight-story stone column? For that matter, how will I get myself up those massive columns? Well, no matter, I’ll learn and in no time I’ll be showing up Quasimodo with my awesome wall-scaling skills and gargoyle-communications expertise. Granted I don’t think the church has any gargoyles to talk to, but there are plenty of statues by the tombs to talk with, although I doubt they’ll have much to say…
Impracticalities aside, there is one very good reason that visitors to this sacred space never want to leave- it must surely be one of the most beautiful spaces in England, and is older by far than any sort of institution we have in the states- Our guide Paul mentioned that the church has existed in one incarnation or another since around 600 B.C., although only the quire of the church existed for sometime, until being expanded with the nave in 1377. Still, the very idea of something existing for so long, in so many forms- we have nothing so comparable here at home, nothing so grand or august- it can make a person feel very small and insignificant, just standing in that hollowed space and realizing that are institutions that have outlasted and will outlast human lives for many years. Cool stuff.
It took music to really appreciate the religious aspects of the space however, which is why I’m glad our class chose to stay for the evensong service. I admit to not being overly familiar with religious hymns, but sitting next to the choir in the carved wooden benches it was impossible not to feel a sort of spiritual emotion at the moment as the beautiful voices of the uber-perfect boy’s chorus filled our ears. Now I know why you always hear boy’s choruses in all the award-winning soundtracks and film scores- when you’ve experienced it, nothing can possibly top it. Combine the chorus with such a beautiful and solemn setting like the church and the experience becomes so moving. I felt to overwhelmed I could hardly leave my seat at the end of the service, not that I wanted to, of course. Maybe I'll just sneak back into the church one day. Beckett's dusty bones might need company!

Written by Leland Wood