Westminster Abbey

“My name is Natalia. I am from Poland, and I am Catholic, but I have not been inside a church for many years. I have grown weary of guitars and green screens. But I have heard of this church, and I think that if I ever find God, it might be in a place like this.”

We didn’t know how long it would take us to get to Westminster Abbey. After all, we’re over here in Greenwich southeast of the city. So we boarded the tender at 8:30 am for the 11:15 service called “the Sung Mass.” The tender took us to Greenwich pier where we boarded an Uber Clipper water bus. Estimates from folks who had made the trip before ranged from thirty minutes to an hour. We didn’t want to be late. We wanted to be sure to get a seat. After a few false starts caused by a faulty ticket machine, we boarded the boat that took us along the Thames for a tour that equaled any excursion we have ever had in London. We passed the Tower of London, the Globe Theater, the Millennial Bridge. Finally the Elizabeth Tower on the Parliament Building came into view and we heard Big Ben strike ten o’clock.

“Plenty of time before the worship service,” I told Glenda as we walked through the West Door under a saintly statue of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. An usher met us at the door, and I told him that we were here for the eleven-fifteen “Sung Mass.” He directed us to a row of chairs lining the north wall, where one young woman, maybe in her twenties, sat alone. He said, “Wait here. We will call you into the choir when it’s time for the mass to begin.”

Glenda smiled and took a seat beside the girl, and I sat down beside my wife. The young woman did not return Glenda’s smile, but looked nervous as she spoke. “My name is Natalia. I am from Poland, and I am Catholic, but I have not been inside a church for many years. I have grown weary of guitars and green screens. But I have heard of this church, and I think that if I ever find God, it might be in a place like this.”

After forty minutes the usher told us we could go up to the choir where the service would be held. He told us how to access the order of worship for today’s liturgy on our cell phones. About two hundred chairs had been set up on each side of the crossing, so that all of us worshippers were facing inward toward a lighted candle on a table. I was on the fourth row of the south transept, so that I could literally reach out my right arm and touch the lectern from which the lessons were read. When it was about time to start, less than four hundred people were present. We should not have worried about arriving early enough to get a seat.

In a few minutes music emerged from an organ I could not see. It produced twenty-first century music with mysteriously beautiful dissonances pointing to a God beyond our notions of simple harmonies. It was ethereal. And even though it is not the kind of music I listen to every day, it was magnificent. Unpredictable. Eerie, even. Like God.

There was to be a confirmation today. The resident bishop would confirm two of the choir members, named Barnaby and Ben. We sang a familiar hymn of Charles Wesley, and the bishop prefaced his confirmation of two of the boys in the choir with a thoughtful sermon centering around the cost of following Christ. Yet, he assured them that even when their faith was costly, Christ would be with them to strengthen them. It was a message of grace not condemnation. It was a message about God, not political opinion.

Before the two boys emerged from the choir to come forward for their confirmation, they joined the choir in offering the “Sanctus,” another modern piece reflecting cosmic mystery. When the boys bowed before the bishop, they answered his questions firmly and with apparent understanding. The bishop, with a giggle, slung holy water on the boys and on us, turning a somber rite into a moment of joyful laughter for us all.

We all received the Eucharist, and then sang “Now Thank We All Our God,” and I teared up at my favorite lines in verse three, “Oh may this bounteous God, through all our lives be near us; with ever joyful hearts, to comfort and to cheer us; and keep us in His grace, and guide us when perplexed; and free us from all ills, in this world and the next.”

The service ended with a more conventional organ piece by Edward Elgar, the blessing of the bishop, and then using the organ to play the “Danse” by Claude Debussy, God spoke through it a message of joy.

I had to search through the crowd for Natalia as the mass of worshippers exited the church. When I finally spotted her across the way, she was smiling.

Many of us found God here at Westminster Abbey this morning. As I left the church, I prayed for Barnaby and Ben. And I prayed for Natalia.Читать далее