The last full day I was in London (Thursday, June 7th) one of the things I absolutely had to do was go to Evensong at Westminster Abbey. (*Note: I would have done the tour, probably, but at this point I had all of 7 pounds that had to get me through that day and up until I boarded the airplane the next. Thus, the price of going inside the Abbey for Evensong--free--was something I could afford.)
Thus, at 5 pm KayCee and I made our way via the Tube system to Westminster Abbey--one of the most well-known cathedrals in the world, I think, where both the high and mighty and the humble have worshipped the Lord for centuries.
Though I am a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I believe that people of all faiths can learn and gain perspective from each other, because that's what happened to me during the Anglican service that day.
In that beautiful, historic cathedral with its vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows was a sense of profound sacredness for the Divine--it was a place where people from all over the world and from different faiths could come together and worship Christ. There is real beauty in that.
The Very Reverend Don Hall, Dean of Westminster (at least, I'm pretty sure it was him), gave a sermon on the idea of presence--how we as human beings, even in our world of technology, crave a sense of presence, of being in the same place at the same time with other people and the Divine to experience a kind of connection that cannot be experienced through other means.
It was a lovely sermon, and I thought about how that is why we travel--that is why I was sitting there in Westminster Abbey thousands of miles from home and anything I'd ever known. There is a kind of sacredness in physical, personal experience. You learn things by going places that you can't learn any other way. You learn things that are impossible to explain to other people, because you had to have been there to understand. There are some things you must learn on your own, without anyone else, because there is no other way. One of those things you have to learn for yourself is how to feel the presence of God in your own life. No one else can do it for you. But we are promised that if we seek diligently, we shall find Him.
I truly believe that.
Inside, I was sitting in the wing opposite the large rose window. It was a cloudy day, but at one point the clouds moved away from the sun and light streamed through the window. Nearly everyone looked up at the same instant, and you could feel the collective intake of breath in awe.
One of the few things I remember from my art history/architecture class my freshman year of college is that in the Gothic cathedrals, more windows were put in because light signified the presence of God. Such an idea was familiar to me, because I've been taught all my life that Christ is the light of the world, but sitting there in that sacred structure watching the light stream through that window, I think I understand what that means in a new way.
In that moment I experienced beauty, glory, and light.
And as the service ended and we walked outside, the bells were ringing their rejoicing.
