Grace, Cathedral, Still

I paid twenty-five cents

to light a little white candle -- The Decemberists, "Grace Cathedral Hill"

We visited St. Patrick's cathedral while in New York City a couple of summers ago.  I'd previously been there 20 years before.

Though I certainly adhere to the protest part of Protestantism,* I was not opposed to the prospect of exploring such a place.  (I like some of the spiritual solemnity in ritual, though I don't like being constrained by it.)

As we approached, we saw the members of a wedding party gathered on the steps.  Men uncomfortable in tuxedos.  Women exultant in elaborate dress.  Mingling with smiles and nervousness all around.  

The cathedral sanctuary was vast enough that we could enter unnoticed amid teeming activity associated with daily doings and the pending matrimony.  A place like that creates a mixture of shadows and light amid masonry and stained glass -- circumstantial metaphors often unremarked.

While there, I made a modest contribution to a moneybox and lit a candle in memory of my parents.  I am often reminded how much I miss them.  I sat quietly for a few moments in an uncomfortable pew, comforted by memories.  Reflective.

This time of year was always so wonderful when I was growing up.  Mom loved the holidays and the decorating.  Gatherings with the extended family were always fun – and the food put the comfort in comfort food (until you ate too much).

Each holiday season, I feel their absence and the presence of their spirit.

_______________________________________

* Wherein Martin Luther's posting of his 95 theses at Wittenberg heralded the Reformation and challenged the dominion of earthly hierarchy inserted between humankind and God**

** And the misguided, money-grubbing notion of indulgences