An Open Heart in a Corner Pew
Listening to Mystery
As tower bells proclaim time’s rhythm and to whom it belongs – hour after hour – peal after peal – sacred sounds come to a listener in this holy place: a quiet convert in a dusty corner pew…
* * * *
Slowly the sun rises over timeless spires. The ancient building begins to awaken after its nightly slumber.
Mammoth doors unlocked again for both faithful – proud and and repentant alike – swinging open on ancient hinges. Distant echoes of footsteps from distant chapels.
New sounds – excitement of children on tour and a day away from school.
Shuffling feet of young choristers make their way to the choir.
Winds rush – caught up in currents between columns and under seemingly ageless vaultings which canopied the sacred and the profane of history.
An organ swells to life. Majestic. Triumphal. Soothing. Fanciful. Tragic.
Faces change and characteristic footsteps reflect the young and old who gather yet again – quick, labored, purposeful, heavy, furtive.
The organ plays on.
The choristers begin to sing.
Liturgies are spoken from books at altars in a language that would have astonished their temporal authors.
In such a place one hears the heaviness of time itself – listens to palpable mystery – inner hearts sense the harmony of the holy amidst the business and discord of life.
* * * *
The bells conclude their progression through ancient peals as evening falls over the buttresses and along cloister paths.
Tour groups fade away.
Liturgies conclude with blessings given.
Sounds take on a deeper echo as they diminish into reverent tones.
A heavy quiet descends – and one can almost hear the stained glass yield its sunlight glory and return their pallets to grey – its stories now shrouded in the dusk.
Occasional hushed intervals of stillness begin to paragraph the sounds of temporal life.
Wind blows.
A bell tolls.
Keys turn.
At last one final heavy door booms closed. Then another. Then one more…
The Great Cathedral rests until a new day – dreaming whatever dreams may come to such sacred spaces – of presences and sounds that go unheard by mortal senses.
From a dusty corner pew – mystery comes to the lonely listener, then a tear, and at last a prayer – for God and the great stones alone to hear…
Finis
D. S. Lamoureux, 2000
Dedicated
“to souls we miss, and souls we love – both here below – and there above…”
2000