The marvellous ruins

Yesterday, we took the trip of which I had heard startling rumors last spring

Some say that as the group went to Stonehenge in their double-decker coach, they nearly fell off a cliff and had to jump for their lives.

The story was a bit exagerrated and warped (though not as much as I had expected to find). On our journey to Old Sarum, Salisbury Cathedral, and Stonehenge, we were informed of the truth. The bus had, apparently, nearly toppled into the great ditches around Sarum, dug to keep invaders at bay. Well-planned ditches--made with foresight. It isn't every ancient civilization that can anticipate the technology of millenia to follow, and adequately defend against it.

We parked at the foot of the hill. Just a bit of history as we climb that edifice--Old Sarum is a military fort, with a great ditch dug all the way around in the Iron Age ( between 775-743 BC), and another, greater ditch dug around in the Roman Age (43-407). There once stood a castle and a cathdral. Now, there stand only the remains of crumbled stone walls, worn by the wind and rain. The stones shone dully.

We passed the deep barricades to the site of the long-ago castle and cathedral. There we were, among the standing ruins overgrown with moss and lichen. All around us was impossibly green, healthy grass and impossibly old, mythic land. A hundred guests were entertained among these very walls. Back when they were the most majestic rooms of the island. Back when a roof connected them.

Back when the works of man were whole.

Now, we stood amidst the crumbling ruins which had once held so firmly together that men could not disjoin them. At last, gentle water had done what men could not.

More impacting than the swept castle were the ruins of the cathedral. We climbed down into the earth, where the bishop's treasury once was. Now, it is empty, and the grand room in the heart of earth opens up to the heavens. All nature fills it's windows, now. In brokenness, the bishop's treasury holds its greatest riches.

So was Old Sarum--filled with a commentary on eternity.

From there, we went to Salisbury Cathedral, with its 404 foot tower. We felt every step of the climb we took (and we did not go to the very top). Out among the gargoyles, we behold an unspeakable view which made me glad, for once, that it was not raining. God through the ages had made all that was in sight flourish in the most brilliant reds and greens.

The sunbeams through the clouds alighted softly on the countryside and every eye which took in that sight must crave to see such beauty in vain until they behold the magnificence of the angels. (I do not compare to seeing God, for seeing God will be so much greater that I will not act as if there is any comparision between He who is the Maker of Beauty and His creation).

On our ascent, I marvelled at the craft of worship. Where I sit with a pen and pour out praise in rhyme, others bear rock and ore to astounding heights and, with humble beauty, offer a hymn of the sky-line to the Lord.

Oh, that my poems might be a cathedral! That people could enter into my worship to create more worship! The fecundity of God's glory is breath-taking. Ever bit of it, properly proclaimed, multiplies in the ear and eye which had no hand in its formation, and sends more glory to God. If love is good to gain because the gaining of it by one man increases its bounty among all men at large (unlike gold, where one man's gain is another's loss), then worship is the same. Every act of worship makes a temple, wherein more can echo their worship to the One and Only Lord of Hosts.

To walk through the Cathedral was to imagine what songs had echoed here, what young words of Luther, when those texts made their way this far, and what prayers breathed out in anguish have long since been answered.

Another remarkable construction was nearby (perhaps a sort of worship, as God is just and praise of justice must relate to praise of God). One of four remaining original copies of the Magna Carta, copied after the signing of the original by King John and sent throughout England so that all would know of the agreement. The eyes that first glanced across these words beheld a revolution in thought, like nothing they had ever seen before. This manuscript reformed the workings of English thought and even the world's understanding of its leadership.

As a friend remarked, "They're so humble about it." Certainly, the Cathedral folk were. Unlike the Declaration of Independence back home, there was little fan-fare or signage to draw attention to it. The Magna Carta spoke for itself.

I have little to say regarding Stonehenge, I'm afraid. Suffice it to say that I have no idea how it was built, but all of the ingenuity of the construction and design seems to spark its viewers into their own kind of creativity. Everyone comes up with the cleverest pictures around Stonehenge.

Good job, you faithful ones who made it all the way through! Pat yourself on the back.