In Communion With the Saints

I should have known better. I should have understood that a City with such a rich and extensive history as Canterbury cannot be "done" in one day. My original assumption was that I would spend perhaps twenty minutes in the Cathedral, take the thirty-minute train ride to Goodenstone Park Garden and then on to Augustine's Abbey. I might even tuck in a castle or two along the way, I thought. Can't be done. In the end, I spent two and a half hours "communing with the saints" in the Cathedral. Then, it was almost lunch time and it seemed wiser to abandon my rather ambitious plan of taking the entire county of Kent in a day and stay right here in Canterbury. A visit to the Norman Castle (dating back to the 11th century) and a couple of museums wrapped up the day.

The Cathedral visit was incredibly satisfying; a truly fulfilling and spiritual experience. I had a strong awareness that I was physically present and meditating in the exact physical location that thousands and thousands of people - going back to the sixth century A.D. - have been. I had a sense of being in communion with all those saints and recognizing once again the vastness of this holy family both in space and time. A truly awesome experience that language simply cannot fully express.

One of the most moving moments for me was the opportunity to stand in the exact spot believed to be where St. Thomas Becket was murdered. Unfortunately I arrived almost five hundred years too late to see his tomb, which - according to the guide - was destroyed in 1538 by King Henry VIII. A candle now shines in the spot where his shrine used to be.

In my country of origin, Uganda, a handful of buildings date back to perhaps one hundred years. In Canada you may find buildings dating back two hundred years. In Canterbury, an entire medieval town is preserved almost in its original state. It is like going back in time, walking on the same cobblestone streets and in the same neighbourhoods that people five hundred, six hundred years and beyond experienced. You walk down the narrow streets and realize St. Thomas Becket himself might have walked down the same street on a daily basis nine hundred years ago. You enter a pub and wonder whether the dramatist and poet Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of Shakespeare, might have been here too. As I walk through the narrow corridors of the Inn which has been my home over the last few days I wonder who else has been here over the last few centuries.

Canterbury has many things going for it: its beauty, its history, the fact that you can walk to almost every part of the town. The one thing that has surprised me is the residents' attitude. For a city that must attract many tourists you'd expect the people to be a little more hospitable. On the contrary they appear to be weary of visitors. They are not inclined to be helpful. In fact on a number of occasions people were down right rude and nasty to me without provocation. In one incident, I was turned away from a restaurant for not being properly dressed (I was wearing shorts. But in this case, the naughty part of me prompted me to hang around for a while to see if anyone else wearing shorts would be turned away. Indeed, no more than five minutes later, a couple in their late thirties arrived and he was wearing shorts. They entered and ten minutes later when I decided to leave, they had not yet been kicked out. I suppose he had better negotiation skills!) If I was the mayor of Canterbury, I would seriously invest in encouraging the community to be more hospitable to guests. They have a lot going for them.

Blessings.