Church-leaving

The grand old cathedral does not disappoint once inside; but the stained-glass casts an indifferent light on a faithful too-few collected at the appointed hour under the imposing protection of those great gothic arches. The empty pews breathe in the holy incense, echo the eucharist and compose themselves to listen to the sermon: "The readings on this day of Pentecost remind us - unity is paramount. Those so-many differences, that have been our humility since Babel, are also God's glory reflected; and He would show his constancy, in strength and love to call His chosen people together. Therefore we have been chosen, brothers and sisters, and must each day strive to bring his Kingdom on earth." It is eight full years since I have knelt at the rail to honour that sacred ceremony. Eight years have seen the world's change; changed us with it, and for it. I am not that one who once could thrill at tongues of fire from Heaven; now I celebrate an easy speech and forget. Dear Larkin, I know why those beautiful churches stand empty: It is we who could speak, and know what we do, yet keep our peace.

 

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