A Canterbury Journey

Earlier this year, I visited Canterbury Cathedral for the first time. There, I stumbled into the annual observance of the feast day of St. Augustine.

This annual celebration features dusty history. It also brings history to life in a way that made me ponder my life anew.

First, the history:

In the 500's, St. Augustine of Canterbury was a Benedictine monk in Rome. Gregory the Great, his pope, saw an opportunity in southern England, where the new queen was a Christian. He sent Augustine and some other monks to England to share the gospel.

Going from Rome to England in the 500's was like going to space in the 1960's. The journey was unusual. Conditions were hostile. You risked your life.

Augustine and his companions were afraid, but they began.

Midway through the journey, Augustine's group had second thoughts. They sent him back to Rome to tell the pope, "We can't do this. We don't even speak the right language. We can't preach the gospel in England. Please allow us to return."

Pope Gregory wouldn't relent. "Here, have a translator," he said. "God be with you! Keep going!"

So Augustine and the other monks, under obedience, completed their journey. And when they landed in England, they were welcomed by the king and queen, Ethelbert and Bertha.

Queen Bertha had made a condition of her marriage that she be allowed to continue to practice the Christian faith. She had brought a chaplain with her when she moved to England to marry the king. The worship of Christ was already happening in England, in her private chapel. King Ethelbert received Augustine and the other monks kindly, and eventually the king converted to Christianity.

Time passed. The monks built an abbey to live in, and stayed. They showed hospitality to others according to the rule of Benedict, which teaches that a stranger is to be received as Christ. They preached the gospel. More and more people began to follow Jesus.

Much later, Christians in England built Canterbury Cathedral, known as the mother church of the worldwide Anglican Communion. That is my church - and the church of another eighty-five million people.

Each year, St Augustine's feast day is celebrated in Canterbury with a procession and festal Eucharist. This year's procession began at St Martin's, the oldest English-speaking church in the world, built on the site of Queen Bertha's private chapel.

We then walked through the ruins of the Benedictine abbey in Canterbury that was begun by Augustine and his friends in the 500s and destroyed in the 1500s.

Along the way, flowers were laid at the place St Augustine is believed to be buried.

At the altar in the crypt in the ruins of the abbey, we gave thanks to God and shared holy communion. This altar is used just once a year, for this celebration.

The final songs and reception were in the ancient meeting room of the monks at Canterbury Cathedral. This room is called the chapter because the monks would gather there each day to hear one chapter of Benedict's rule read out to them.

As I walked this journey, I found myself wondering:

What if Bertha had said, "After I get married, I'll stop following Jesus, because my new husband isn't a Christian"?

What if Pope Gregory had said, "never mind, turn around, come home"?

What if Augustine had said "I know I'm under obedience, but screw that, I'm done here"?

What if even one of them had chosen a different path?

Bertha and Gregory and Augustine made history. Their choices changed the lives of millions - including mine.

They didn't know that would happen. Day to day, they simply woke up. Put one foot in front of the other. Ate meals. Saw friends. Got things done. Wondered whether they were doing the right things.

There was no way they could know their days would shape lives for millennia.

What does that mean for me?

I don't know the long-term outcomes of my choices any more than they did. Like them, I simply have to try to be faithful, day by day.

I am so grateful I had the chance to give thanks to God for their witness to Christ in these holy places.

I am so grateful for the reminder simply to be faithful, day by day.