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A Trip to St Chad’s Cathedral

Tuesday, July 14, 2020 14:10

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Today I celebrated the Year 6 leavers Mass in unusual circumstances, over the webcam. It was a moving occasion. The children had recorded their readings and even though they were not present in the church, the journey shared together, made it an emotional and joyful celebration. I went to officiate at a funeral afterwards at the Crematorium, on the way avoiding an accident by mere seconds, as a car with an impatient driver, went into another, avoiding cones and cutting in! Later I thought about being a curate in Redditch, my first placement as a priest, and I thought of days off visiting mum and venturing into town. The words below are fruit of that reminiscing.

A Trip to St Chad’s Cathedral

I found myself on the bus sitting alone, looking out of the window

Content, because I was on a trip, I had a place to go

Kings Heath was bathed in sunshine, the Hare and Hounds was doing great trade,

In those days you bought a ticket for the bus when you got on, and used cash too, an old, keen eyed inspector, made sure you had paid!

The bus stopped plenty of times, picking up paying pilgrims along the way

It wove a gas guzzling path through concrete buildings made mysteriously beautiful, by the morning sun, the baths at Moseley should surely be a regent house, perhaps it was, back in the day?

I was home from the parish on a day off, having just checked in with mum,

I was a curate in a busy parish today I had paid my bus fair and was gladly sat down.

Having recently passed my driving test, I preferred the bus, no clutch or gear to stress over, no horns blasting at my straying waywardly into wrong lanes, on big open roads, happily snug, on a well-worn seat, on the 50 bus, heading into town

On the bus I think, I muse about life, looking at my feet planted on the buses floor

I imagine how life ain’t half changed… since I got this same 50 bus as a postman, not that many years before

I like the concrete, the shadows from the beaming sun, that seem to paint a picture of stillness, creating for the city brilliant and differing textures

There is a contrast of quiet reflection living side by side amidst the hurly burly of frantic city life, this gleam of sunshine masking the harshness of the working class, housed in lived in bricks and plastic fixtures.

I spy the traffic building up around the Central Mosque, snaking all the way to Highgate one way, to the Bristol Road in the other direction, my birds eye view from the double decker top

This is why I prefer the bus, I smile, sinking into the seat as I will be here for a little while before the final stop

I want to go to the Cathedral, visiting the bookshop too, to have a good old browse, in the shadows of the magnificent cathedral walls, to be led into the kindly oratory light

To enter through the creaking of ancient wooden doors, that house a modern search for peace, amidst the fever of life, where some in our city prefer to slip into the murky habitats of the choking night

The cathedral is sturdy, reassuringly welcoming

Bathed in light, that gushes about the frames of stained glass windows, bringing a verve and colour to the sanctuary, that still shimmers with the lingering smoke of incense, that was waved reverently during a funeral Mass celebrated earlier in the morning

The bench rattles as I sit down soon contemplation arrives at my quieting mind, I wonder, who has sat here before me, what saints and scholars from which exotic lands…?

And then a voice from behind me says aloud and with a Brummie twang…”got any spare change mate?” And I am back in the city, where luxury walks beside poverty, the little change in my pocket, that would have bought me a bus ticket home, is dropped into grateful, and slightly mucky hands.

I like the bus, but the journey home is spectacular too, as a young man the walk home never held great dread or any fear

I walked through Moseley Village, a hive of shops and pubs, on towards Forest Road, a nod to St Martin’s, where I started my schooling, and soon enough I was back home to mums, bidding farewell, getting into my first car while praying that my feet will rest easy on the gears, and the road to Redditch, and Mount Carmel Church, will be relatively clear.

Fr Patrick Brennan 2020 ©

Source: http://humblepiety.blogspot.com/2020/07/a-trip-to-st-chads-cathedral.html

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