Part 2: Spelt out in stone: the architecture of unity

In this second reflection, Esther de Waal explores how the cathedral's soaring arches, choir and hidden structure reflect the call to live in unity, to listen deeply, and to hold one another together in love. It is a timely reminder that true community is built through prayer, patience and attentive listening.

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I felt a certain reluctance about leaving the crypt and going up the flight of steps which

brought me into the glorious space above, the nave built by Henry Yevele in the late

Middle Ages. It is breathtaking, and I move to the crossing of the tower so that I can lie

on the floor to appreciate it better by gazing upward. The reflection of the floodlighting

outside plays on pillar and vaulting and keystone. It is a picture of total harmony and

serenity; pillar and capital, rib and boss, with the boss, the keystone, holding it together

in perfect unity. It is as though I am seeing the Pauline analogy of the body of Christ

made whole spelt out in stone. And yet, this is not the whole picture. as I know because

of my exploration of the roof spaces which lie above the vaults, and below the wooden

roof timbers. Here I could see the powerful tension that keeps the whole building

standing. Here I could see just how costly is the achievement of that glorious harmony. I

could see the role of the boss, the keystone, holding in tension the conflicting forces

which converged at this pivotal point. Here was thrust and counterthrust: the interplay

and interdependence of elements held in unremitting tension. All the elements held

together with the result that all the separate and individual parts come together to

create something greater than themselves: a powerful harmony and beauty. I thought of

a monastic community meeting here, week in week out, in a commitment for a lifetime.

I thought of all the separate and individual members of that corporate body, with all

their disparate dispositions, coming together in unity.

In the quire, as I take the next step on my journey, I find the choir stalls, ranged on

either side, facing one another. Here Mattins and Evensong are said or sung – the

brilliant telescoping by Thomas Cranmer of the Benedictine daily offices for use by

Anglicans. I look up and notice the capitals, for none here each is different, and they get

more elaborate as they move east. But, really most thrilling are the elaborate roof

bosses. In the week when we first arrived they were in process of being re-painted, and

with the scaffolding still in place I had the good fortune to be able go up to the roof,

balancing on the uneven planks as they jumped up and down. But then, so utterly

amazing, there was a boss at close quarters – it may even have been the one from which

William of Sens , master builder fell – not to his death but to the end of his work with

the cathedral. Here again the theme of harmony and holding together is being spelt out.

. And my thoughts turn to the saying of the office, the opus Dei, seven times a day,

ranged on either side of the quire, echoing one another in statement and response. This

demands the art of listening, close, attentive listening to the words of the psalms. Listen,

listen intently, says St Benedict, in the opening words of the Rule -ob-audiens, the root

of the vow of obedience. Here is the vow that asks me to hear and to respond to the

Word, to my brothers and sisters, to the promptings of my own heart.