Cathedral

I'm flying in Winchester Cathedral
Sunlight pouring through the break of day
Stumbled through the door and into the chamber
There's a lady setting flowers on a table, covered lace
And a cleaner in the distance finds a cobweb on a face
And a feeling deep inside me tells me
This can't be the place

A couple of days ago, I visited the Chapel at Duke University with my daughter, who is getting another masters degree there.  (So she can be an English teacher like her mom; can you believe it?)  Needless to say, the chapel makes one breathless with its grandeur and majesty.  Just don't think too much about the three 30-ton white Carrera marble sarcophagi holding the remains of the University's benefactors, Washington Duke and his sons, James B. Duke and Benjamin N. Duke, right over there to the left of the altar.

Now I have visited some equally impressive cathedrals, most notably in Venice, Florence and Rome, and I always experience the same mix of awe and angst when I do.  Being the frugal queen that I am, my first reaction is always, "Couldn't this money have been spent to feed the poor?"  But the flip of the coin suggests that this display of opulence compels the worshippers to take their religion seriously, to take pride in the House of God that their meager offerings have helped build.  I am always conflicted when being inside one of these amazing architectural masterpieces.

Graham Nash may indeed have been on an LSD trip when he wrote Cathedral.  It sure feels like it when he performs it.  I have witnessed this performance a couple of times, and (forgive the cliche) it blows me away.  So trippy.  The passionate orchestration, the minor chords, the variations in tempo . . . listening to Cathedral is indeed a spiritual experience.

Which is ironic, of course.  This can't be the place, Nash states, although he acknowledges that all religion has to have its day.  One of my favorite quotes from Rumi, the Persian mystic, is this:  There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.  That works for me.  I believe that one can find God in a cathedral, but also in a forest, on a beach, at an art museum, on a tennis court.  Open up the gates of the church and let me out of here, pleads Nash.  I understand.

The take-away is this:  Find your moral grounding where you can.  Express your gratitude in whatever way you can.  Humble yourself to something greater when you can.

And wipe the cobwebs off your face.