Confessions of a 'Church Tourist'
Confessions of a ‘Church Tourist’
It can’t just be Episcopalians who make “church tourism” a routine part of their travel plans, no matter where they go. There aren’t enough of us to make up the lines at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris or the tour groups that head for the Marc Chagall chapel windows near Strasbourg. Why do so many go out of their way to gaze at the painted wonders of Notre Dame in Old Montreal or the sheer alabaster windows at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles?
It has to be a more universal kind of pull – to walk the stones where others have walked, to feel the years of prayerful attendance, to kneel in a new place.
When we first made plans to go to London in the late 1990s, my mother-in-law wanted us to be sure to see St. Clements, a tiny church on the Strand that had been rebuilt after World War II bombings and now is the spiritual home of the RAF, complete with an organ gifted by the U.S. Air Force and a festival of beautiful embroidered kneelers. “Oranges and Lemons say the Bells of St. Clements,” she said, quoting an English nursery rhyme.
Years later, for another trip, she sent us to Holy Trinity Church Sloane Square, which is a treasure trove of design elements from Arts and Crafts masters, including William Morris.
Truly, the breadth and scope of terrific churches to visit could fill itineraries seemingly to infinity. And you don’t need to travel abroad to savor the spirit of churches not your own. My sister who lives in Texas has wandered the small towns between San Antonio and Austin, finding and appreciating holy places of many denominations. Every once in a while, there will be a photo on my phone from her, detailing “a sweet Methodist church” built from the hopes of a young community a hundred or more years ago.
Bruce and I have had some wonderful experiences. We found that it was easy to line up for evensong at Westminster Abbey on a weekday afternoon, which drew just enough people to allow us to sit with the choristers in the choir. We’ve nosed through the modernist aisles of St. Mary’s Cathedral in San Francisco, and wondered at the healing history of Santuario de Chamayo outside Santa Fe. Though I can tire of churches one after another on a trip, opening the door of the next one usually has rewards.
Here’s what I mean: In Lyon this spring, we turned a corner in the old town into the courtyard of Eglise-Saint Paul. Held tight among neighborhood buildings, this structure dated to 598, and had been reconstructed in the 11th and 12th centuries, gaining several impressively old stained-glass windows. It became a retail store after the French Revolution, and endured more renovations through the 1800s as a parish church. But to our travelers’ eyes, this church seemed cool and tranquil, exuding a sense of permanence and peace – some quite good things to visit when you can.
-Molly Bowler