First Sunday of Advent in the amazing Cathedral at Ely.
The darkness of the present age
is gathered in silence
in the deep cavern of
the Cathedral’s nave.
Yet, for all the
oppression and anxiety,
carried through the
great west doors,
there is an
anticipation which awaits
the light of a single
candle:
then two, then four,
then a shimmering of
hopeful flames,
passing tentatively
along the rows of those
drawn away from the
manic world of Black Friday,
to welcome in that
great season of the O’s
A lone soprano voice
thrills in the growing
light:
column of purest air
reverberates
around, against and
amidst
the vast Norman
pillars of stone
floated here from
far-off Barnack.
They disembarked eight
hundred years ago
but the visceral
message,
of the now multiple
voices,
proclaim a prophecy
four times as old.
‘Comfort ye, comfort
ye, my people.’
O how the motley assembly
needs to hear that message
as have Advent
welcomers in that place,
and in its more modest
forbears,
down a millennium and
more.
Listen! Listen!
The Saviour comes
to lift the misery,
mischief and monotony
you brought with you
through the mighty
doors;
and to set you free.
Other Christmas material on this blog can be found HERE
