S1: Theology and Imagination

E8: Love One Another Unless Church Bells Are Involved

It’s six o’clock in the morning. Though my eyes are still closed, there is no doubt about the precise hour. I awake to the chimes of the 13th century Cathedral in Salisbury. My lodgings are in the same vicinity as the ancient sanctuary. Ironically, my abode was originally built several hundred years before that wretched chime came into existence. Old Sarum, the 11th century college (now called Sarum College) was a comfortable and nostalgic habitation until the bells rang out.  

 By seven o’clock I am breakfasting in traditional English fashion: bacon, sausage, eggs, fried bread, black pudding, baked beans, fried tomato, mushrooms, and a bottomless well of tea. By eight o’clock I am walking the grounds of Salisbury Cathedral allowing the morning meal to take its gestational course. I make sure there is ample room between my personal space and gathering tourists. It is simply polite to do so.

After my robust constitution had settled, I joined the tourists in pursuit of an ancient document dating back to 1215. As a British and American citizen, I wanted to see for myself the ancient parchment that was foundational for the Declaration of Independence, (1776) the Constitution of the United States (1787), and individual constitutions of the 13 colonies (1776-1780).

Four exemplifications of the Magna Carta Libertatum (Great Charter of the Liberties) are still in existence: two in the British Library, one in Lincoln Castle, and one about to come into my sight at Salisbury Cathedral.

Over 800 years ago, the most traitorous, lecherous, tyrannical, and depraved kings of England ruled with extraordinary Pharaoh-like arrogance. His name was John, and he hated Robin of Locksley (Robin Hood). His brother Richard (or Sean Connery in Kevin Costner’s 1991 Robin Hood) was a much better. John was an absolute rotter of a king whose evil qualities reach the brim of all the barons.

In order to prevent a civil war, Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury drafted the Magna Carta. The 63 clauses written into the ancient document placed the king, and all the people of England, under the law and not above it. As such, it became foundation for all civil rights, judicial or otherwise. Centuries later, Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) and Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826) would become enamored by its contents.

On June 15, 1215 King John reluctantly signed the Magna Carts, and in August of the same year Pope Innocent III was furious because it separated the powers of the Church and government. Oh dear!

 The Magna Carta is still navigating public discourse and political science in the civilized world. Even Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II and all her royal family are under the law and not above it. I do hope the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle, was aware of this when she said “I do” to Prince Harry?

 Back to Salisbury. As I enter the Chapter House in the Cathedral, a single light shines down on the ancient legal document. I feel like Robert Langdon in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code (2003). I cannot help but think about the guiding principle of the document before me: no one is above the law. My imagination is fully alive thinking how life is governed.

 There is an older document that carries more weight than the Magna Carta. In fact, the Archbishop of Canterbury was guided by it. Biblia (Bible) was originally compiled in 367AD from the 39 books of the Hebrew Bible and 27 additional books. Its truths have continually been taught, preached, proclaimed, and reenacted through the Church (Ephesians 3:10 NIV) with the help and power of the Holy Spirit (John16:13 NIV).  

 The Bible is not like any other literature. For the Christian it is the living Word of God. Its truths have endured in any culture at any time. Think about it, the Christian faith was born into the Greco-Roman pagan culture, grew through the turbulent Middle Ages, survived The Enlightenment, advanced in modernity, and currently expanding in the secular culture of postmodernity.

 As the agency of the Christian faith, the Church has adapted to the languages, symbols, rituals, markets, and heroes of each successive culture to proclaim the truths of the Bible. According to Pope John Paul II, he celebrated Holy Communion in chapels built along mountain paths, on lake shores, sea coasts, on altars built in stadiums and city squares, and on the humble altar of a country church. Biblical truth wonderfully embeds itself into any culture.

 As I look around the room my imagination is caught in a cultural paradox trying to make sense of my experience. I’m in the Chapter House of a Cathedral where church governance takes place. Tourists from at least seven countries (noted by language and countenance) gather around the Magna Carta. It is highly protected in numerous ways so the general public cannot touch it. In fact, tourists cannot photograph it. Yet, standing by the entrance of the Chapter House was a small lectern with large bible on it open neatly to the Book of Psalms. I assume anyone could touch it, take photographs of it, and even read from it. No one was interested.

 Perhaps I was observing what psychologists call “wet paint syndrome”. If we cannot touch it, the object becomes more attractive to us. It’s the same effect when we hear an announcement before a broadcast, “Some viewers may find the following disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised”. However, according to wet paint syndrome, we tend to pull up a chair, turn the volume up, and gaze intently at what follows. Because there were limitations placed on the experience of seeing the Magna Carta, it became more fascinating than the 800-year building where it was housed.

 How ironic that Archbishop Stephen Langton was guided by the truths in the Bible to draft the Magna Carta, yet the Bible itself is ignored. Even today, the ancient document is the bedrock for all the ongoing political sagas that dominate Britain and the United States: healthcare, education, tax reform, minimum wage, immigration, climate control, fossil or nuclear fuel, environment, employment, gun control, big pharma, abortion, marijuana, Brexit, fake news and e-scooters (well, perhaps the scooters are only an issue to some).

 Admittedly, there are no cut-and-paste answers to these political sagas. Discourse, or the skill of argumentation must take place. The process of reasoning systematically in support of an idea, action, or theory is essential.

 I took a peek at the pages open to me in the big Bible at the entrance of the Chapter House. I had already noticed it was the Book of Psalms, but which one? Without a word of a lie, Psalm 119 stared me in the face. “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path” (Psalm 119:105 NIV). I took a photograph immediately, before security reminded me, I could not do that when observing the Magna Carta.

 Though I have read this verse countless times, my experience found clarity in the Charter House. I gazed at the single light shining on the Magna Carta as numerous quotes echoed in my imagination. The most dominant was from C. S. Lewis, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen; not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

 The Bible is not meant to be a museum piece. It is meant to be read casting light on to the path of life with all its debates and discourse – political or domestic. Its truths are regularly taught, preached, proclaimed, and reenacted through the Church (Ephesians 3:10 NIV) with the help and power of the Holy Spirit (John16:13 NIV). It’s not “Coming to a Church near you”, it’s already there.

 It’s now moments before ten o’clock. I’m pleasantly caught in this experiential moment of simple truth when those bells arrest my imagination chiming out the hour!