Newness in the old

Originally published 8/23/16

Etheldreda, a Saxon princess from East Anglia (Eastern England), founded a double monastery for men and women in 673 in a little village in the fen called Ely. The fen is what they call "the country" here, and the town is pronounced ee-lee, with the accent on the first syllable. She was married twice, but managed to remain a virgin and eventually became a nun.

The monastery stood for hundreds of years, and in 1080 the men began to build a church next door, which still stands today. And we stood on top of it.

We're squinting, left, because we just climbed up a dark, narrow, steep stairwell before we emerged onto the roof. And, surprisingly enough, the sun was shining.

It took a woman to start an institution that has existed for more than 1000 years. Alas, women haven't been allowed there since about 970, when, after the Danes destroyed it, the church rebuilt it and, of course, excluded women. Just like a man. Build on something a woman started and then take it over.

This cathedral is big. I mean, it's the fourth largest cathedral in England. It was built in the middle of nowhere (remember the "fen") because it was to be to the glory of God, not to serve a community. And, as they added onto it later, as a show that England was still strong and prosperous and there was no need to attack at any time.

That's Michael, right, who's 6 feet tall, walking in. That's how big the doors are.

The town of Ely has grown to about 19,000 residents, many of whom commute by train to London each day, which takes about an hour. The train is so packed, apparently, that many have to stand the whole way. Sounds like they need to add another coach.

We took the tour to the top of the Octagon, which tops the low altar in the middle of the church.

About 160 twisting, winding steps up a narrow turret to the top of the church, then across the roof to the Octagon above the altar. They drop poppy leaves every Armistice Day, and snow during holiday concerts.

And then, from the tippy top, on a relatively clear day, we could see about 12 miles across the English countryside. In the foreground is Mary's Chapel, a smaller chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mum.

It's extraordinary to stand in a church that's been around for 1000 years. After our guide reviewed the recent renovations (that occurred in the 14th century), she asked us what it was like, as Americans, to see so many old things.

In America, we do live in a throw-away society. Yes, we recycle ( a bit), but we don't like to maintain things of the past. We like to turn them into something totally new. Is that programmed in our DNA, because that's why our ancestors came here? (Yes, Mr. Trump, we're all immigrants.) Our ancestors were poor, downtrodden and longed to escape the tyranny of rule that is deeply embedded in centuries of rule. Is that why we're programmed to throw everything away, and only look forward to the new?

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 2 Cor. 5:17

They also came to America to avoid religious persecution, so that they could worship Christ in the way they wanted to. I don't think that Jesus, who tells us we have new life in him, meant that we should always have new things, though! He is, obviously, talking about new eternal life in the matter of our souls. Our European ancestors may have gotten carried away, building great edifices to God to show him how much they loved him. Does God not already know that? Does he not know what's new in our soul, and what's clean in our hearts?

The Ely Cathedral is a grand and beautiful thing. I'm glad it's there. It is an amazing testament to man that something can stand - and stand for God - for 1000s of years. It is also comforting to know that new things - the grace of unconditional love and unfettered forgiveness - have entered my heart, and that God also knows they're there.