I had finished a sumptuous breakfast of fried bread, sausage, and eggs at the White Hart Hotel, which adjoins a tranquil patio in full bloom. It put me in the mood for a stroll around the block. There was a man behind me whose pace was brisk so I moved over to let him pass.

He replied, “It’s OK, I’m in no hurry, I’m just going to work at the Cathedral.” This prompted a memorable conversation. Marc is an American stone worker from Connecticut. Like us, he’s here for just one week, taking a course with a master stone carver named Sarah. He learns from her the craft of shaping limestone into serviceable and beautiful pieces.

At home, he mostly carves inscriptions into stones. But here he has the opportunity to produce something that may wind up on Salisbury Cathedral as a repair or even a replacement. Stone masons are in a constant battle against the deteriorating effects of wind, cold, and time, and so it is essential to keep this art alive.

He showed me a picture of the kind of thing he works on. It was a picture of a series of short, pillar-like carvings on a roofline of the Cathedral. “No one is quite sure what function these served,” Marc explained. “It could be that it cut the wind and so decreased the stress on the roof and buttresses. But each one is individualized by the artist who alone knows it’s up there. Few others will ever see it.”

In other words, the audience isn’t us—it’s God! Salisbury, like all great churches, is not just a single, monumental achievement. It is the sum total of thousands of smaller, invisible acts of sacrificial labor and consecrated imagination. 

The major donors may be carved on its walls and buried beneath its Nave. But it is the hammer, chisel, and skills of the day laborers and artists who brought it into being. And it is the worshippers, musicians, vergers, and acolytes who make the stones live. Salisbury Cathedral is the expression of an entire community across time and space. We Clevelanders are blessed to contribute our small but vital part this week!

Love Bade Me Welcome

My daughters and I elected not to go on the bus trip to Laycock Abbey. Instead, we took a walk I’d been dreaming about for months. A humble and saintly priest named George Herbert served St. Andrew’s, Bemerton, just two miles from the Cathedral. He forsook a promising career in Parliament, was ordained a priest, and then sent to this obscure posting. He served just four years before his death in 1633.

He was known for the pastoral care he gave to his parish, without regard to rank. In ill health himself, he is known to have stopped on the way to the Cathedral to lend a hand to distressed travelers. He was loved by his congregation.

But unbeknownst to them, he wrote devotional poetry of legendary beauty. It almost perished with him, but instead came into the hands of Herbert’s friend Nicholas Ferrar, who had it published in 1633 under the name of “The Temple.” It went through 13 editions, and it was prized by Puritans and High Church folks alike. His work Love Bade Me Welcome has sometimes been called the “most perfect devotional poem in the English language.”

Twice a week, George Herbert walked to Salisbury Cathedral to attend Evensong. So Liz, Jen, and I decided to take this same walk in reverse. Beginning at the West door of the Cathedral, we walked through the Queen Elizabeth gardens and across a bridge, which led us to bounteous meadowlands.

Over our left shoulders were spectacular views of the Cathedral, and we passed the spot where the artist John Constable set up his canvas and painted this luminous view. The path wandered through woodlands alive with birdsong, pastures filled with sheep, and marshlands full of splashing ducks.

Reaching lower Bremerton, the road suddenly narrowed and there it was: the Old Rectory where Herbert and his family lived. Across the narrow street was humble St. Andrew’s Church, where Herbert ministered and where he’s buried.

We stood at the threshold but the door was locked—or so we thought. Just as we were turning away, a bolt seemed to slide, and a man opened the door. “May we go in?” I asked eagerly, ready to plead my case.

Whoever he was, he shrugged his shoulders but didn’t object! So we hurried through the door into this intimate serene space. My daughters and I took turns finding Herbert hymns and anthems on Apple Music and filling the space with his very words. I felt the sanctity and integrity of his humble, hidden life wash over us and whisper a benediction upon our modest pilgrimage.

On the way back, we stopped at a Pub called the “Horse and Groom” and had one of the finest lunches we’d enjoyed so far. We had to hustle back on the busy main road to Salisbury so that Liz could make her 3:30 p.m. choir call on time.

A number of our group took the scheduled trip to Laycock Abbey today. I heard how much they enjoyed this outing but haven’t had a chance to receive much news from this visit. However, here is a picture courtesy of Meg. And more news of that outing may be coming!

The Holy Eucharist

Today is the Feast of Mary Magdalene, an important character in the Gospel of John. She is pictured weeping at the tomb on Easter Day and having an encounter with the Risen Christ. He sends her back to the Upper Room with news that He is Risen from the dead. Thus, she is known as “the apostle to the apostles.” To mark this day, the Holy Eucharist was substituted for Evensong.

The chancel area was filled for the occasion as the choir came in, followed by four clergy, three of them in radiant green and gold Eucharistic vestments. The fourth was a guest preacher, an engaging woman who told us of three paintings of Mary Magdalene that influenced her decision to “rock the boat” and seek ordination as a priest. It was heartfelt and inspiring.

The choir confidently sang a Schubert Mass setting which was alternately dramatic and sweet, as Schubert can be. After we had received Communion, they sang a luscious motet by a Spanish composer named Guerrero, Maria Magdalene. It was spellbinding to me. If there is a playlist in heaven, I hope this is on it and that it’s set to repeat.

Until tomorrow, dear friends! Be well!

Greg+