Broken Faith

In the first week of last term, I was sitting in a lecture hall with all my fellow theology-studying peers. One girl sitting in front of me was reciting her course load to a friend, which included classes on Buddhism, Islam, and Judaism. Her friend seemed confused.

"Really? I thought you were a Christian. Why aren't you taking any classes on your own faith?"

"Oh," came the girl's emphatic reply, "I DO NOT mix my faith with my academics."

That moment stuck with me, not only because I live my life with pretty much the exact opposite attitude, but also because after last term, I get what she's saying. I really do. 

The 'Christianity and the Arts' program at King's is amazing. I couldn't have imagined a program more perfectly suited to my brain. It is everything I hoped it would be, but it has also pushed me and pulled me to the point of almost breaking. 

In November, I was furiously working on my research papers. I had intentionally chosen topics that were hard-- things no one has ever published on. Some were doctrinal, some were scriptural, but they all forced me to take a long hard look at my faith. 

This particular day, I was feeling unbalanced. The previous weeks had introduced me to so many new ideas. My brain was reeling, just trying to figure out where to file all these paradigm-shifting thoughts. On top of this, I was waist deep in academic papers about the history of Mormonism. There was so much information--so much information I had never heard before. I had heard the metaphorical cracks starting several days before, but on this particular night, it was like someone ripped out the foundation stones. Everything I thought I knew and understood about the world got sucked down this vortex of doubt and my testimony crumbled. 

I realised I had no idea how anyone knows anything. I had always prided myself on having searched deep into my faith's history and doctrine and faced the demons long ago. I had had so many encounters with other faiths and had studied them out, and I was certain Mormonism held the truth. And yet there I was, crumpled up on my bed not even sure if there was God. 

I cried to Jon that night (who was up in Sheffield). This is just one of many breakdowns I've had in the last year-- from infertility to being stuck in Australia, from personal issues with our extended family to twenty rejection letters from potential university funding sources, it had been a tough year. This time it felt more serious though. This was an existential crisis if ever there was one. 

Jon was perfectly calm and simply said, "Babe, it's ok. I went through this exact experience on my mission. You are going to have a couple of really really crappy weeks, but then you are going to be ok. You are going to get through this."

His confidence made me feel safe. I loved him for holding together my world even as doubt pulled me down into a really dark place. 

The next couple of days were rough. I couldn't think about anything without feeling like a tiny trembling puppy. However, I noticed that even though I wasn't sure if there was a God, I felt myself praying. I wasn't sure to what, but something inside me was calling out to something higher than myself. 

I realised that if there was no God, then belief, or disbelief, was pointless. If there was a God, belief was necessary. Either way, disbelieving offered me nothing. 

Heartened by this realisation, I sat down with Jon and we started philosophically rebuilding my understanding of the world. Completely independent from scripture or anyone else's beliefs, we constructed a theology. "If x is true, they naturally y must be as well." "What about z? Does that logically make sense with x and y." 

It started off so basic (what/who is this higher power?) and evolved into places that were so deep it is hard to put them into words.

❦

In hindsight, this conversation might be the single most important discussion of my life. From it, I finally FULLY understood Christianity, not as Bible stories or separate doctrinal parts, but as a cohesive, interwoven, beautiful expression of human existence. I can tell you that right now, my testimony of Christianity is so certain. My belief in Christ and his atonement and all that comes with that is completely mine. It has nothing to do with the way I was raised or habit or loved ones. It is my own. 

I'll be honest and say my testimony of Mormonism isn't quite at that level. There are things with which I am still struggling. Yet, it must be said that even in my darkest days, the theological beauty of Mormonism left me awe-inspired. If Joseph Smith didn't get his ideas from above, the man is probably the single greatest theologian ever to walk to Earth. 

I say that fully admitting that it is stuff from Joseph Smith that has caused my problems. However, if you spend any time reading books on theology, you'll start to see how intimately interconnected doctrine becomes. When you shift one tiny idea, it comes with an avalanche of philosophical issues to resolve. Most theologians agonise over dogmatic minutia for hundreds of pages, only to realise several years later that they missed some crucial logical fallacy. 

But with Joseph Smith, it's like he just woke up one day and BAM! A perfectly stable theology, which in many ways departs drastically from mainstream Christianity, was born with what appears to be almost no conscious deliberation. It is impressive and, admittedly, quite heartening to someone who is doubting. 

So, going in to a new term, my journey of faith and learning will move forward.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring... but whatever it is, I'm hoping it is just a little bit brighter and little bit more full of truth. 

Dream Yoga and Mormonism

Today I wanted to talk about some thoughts I've been having lately that are, admittedly, not fully developed. I'm hoping that by putting them out there, your collective thoughts will bring out some resolution. Note: this post will probably be most interesting for someone with a Mormon background that has an interest in dreams and philosophy. 

OK, so let's jump back to the beginning. I've been doing some research for the dissertation I'm hoping to write later this year and stumbled upon some art by the 12th century catholic nun, Hildegard von Bingen. She is pretty well known for her music (she's a staple of basically every humanities class out there), but not many people realise she had massive visions, and commissioned several books of art to illustrate her spiritual accounts.

While we don't know the actual artist that she commissioned, and how their experiences factored into the final product, I think it is safe to assume that Hildegard worked very closely with him/her to get to artistic renderings as close to her visions as possible. The crazy thing about some of these artworks is that they very closely resemble art created by Tibetan monks. Here's are two quick examples (in both cases, Hildegard's are on the left, the Tibetan monk's "Thangkas" are on the right):

Aren't they amazingly similar? Back in the 1100s Germany, there would have been no way for Hildegard to have had contact with her counterparts in Tibet. Yet remarkably, both of these bodies of artwork derive from the creator having had spiritual visions. The Tibet monks often create Thangkas (such as the one seen above) after practicing something called Dream Yoga (also called Milam).

Dream Yoga is practiced in 5 stages (I've made up my own stage names as it helps me remember):

1. The Cave Stage: Dreamer must become lucid (i.e. realise they are in a dream and not awake)
2. The Superman Stage: Dreamer must realise that everything in the dream is a construct, and that nothing can hurt him/her.
3. The Matrix Stage: Dreamer should contemplate the fact that things in waking life are similar to the dream world as both are in a state of constant change and are thus illusory and are not real. This stage is hinged on the Buddhist belief that all things in the waking and dream world are empty and have no substantive value. 
4. The Inception Stage: Dreamer should realise they have total control in their dream state and can do whatever they want-- flying, making objects bigger or smaller, going anywhere, doing anything.
5. The Vision Stage: Dreamer should then summon images of dieties (for Buddhists this would be Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, or Dakinis... for Mormons- God, Angels perhaps loved ones that had passed?) In contemplating these individuals, one can have revelatory experiences and realizations. 

As is probably clear, I don't think that this process is incompatible with Mormonism. Christianity as a whole has a pretty rich tradition of spiritual experiences in dreams (Daniel, Joseph of Egypt, Lehi, Nephi [sort of, his seem to come in from a waking state] to name a few). I have a whole stack of spiritual dreams I've collected from journals and accounts of my ancestors as well. Dreams are a big deal to Mormons, so we definitely allow for it to be a place where spiritual communion can occur, specifically of a personalised nature. It seems natural to me that if we could begin to control the third of our lives we spend sleeping, and use it for personal discovery and spiritual enlightenment, God would give us a big thumbs up.

That being said, I am a little concerned about Stage #3 (The Matrix Stage). MOST of our theological construct, I think, allows for our waking life to be a less sinister, Matrix-type world. After all we believe we had existed previously with God and somehow our consciousness occupies bodies on earth when we are born. This consciousness, or spirit, then returns to be with God afterwards. Perhaps this Earthly experience is simply a computer game-like reality. Perhaps God's creation of the world could have literally been achieved in 7 days if Earth was created the way we create worlds in our dreams. I think most of our belief system could allow for that.

However, IF we are occupying a constructed reality, I see one major theological problem. Namely, why is receiving a body so important to our salvation (D&C 138:16-17)? Why do ordinances need to be performed in THIS life, with a physical body (1 Cor 15:29, D&C 124:29-36)? And how could our physical bodies possibly be reunited with our spirit (Alma 11:45) in order to attain exaltation with God?

Now, maybe the Buddhists just got this part wrong. It's possible. But, but in my own experience with dream yoga (since I began trying a month ago, I've had three lucid dreams), I'm beginning to realise it's merit. My first lucid dream was a bit of a mess because, before going lucid, I had been having a dream where I caught Jon (my husband) in a massive lie. Everything that happened in my lucid dream, DESPITE the fact that I thought I was in control because I knew I was dreaming, was still in reaction to the notion that Jon had been lying to me. Freeing yourself from reality keeps you from getting caught up and would allow you to focus more clearly, particularly on spiritual things.

Still, I haven't quite resolved this point theologically and it has been gnawing at the back of my mind for the last month. Mormons very much believe in the reality, and importance, of a material world. Buddhism does not. I watched this TED talk the other day, and I feel like, maybe the answer is somewhere in here.

While Dr. Hoffman seems to be suggesting more of a Buddhist perspective, I think that he makes it clear that the physical world is hugely important, hence the evolutionary need for our simplified interface. I think his ideas may be the beginning of the resolution, but I still need to contemplate it further.

Anyway, I am really interested in what you, my lovely reader, thinks. I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you see a conflict of between dream yoga and Mormon theology, and what you think about Donald Hoffman's talk. I'd also love to hear about your own experiences with lucid dreaming and spiritual experiences you may have had. All thoughts are welcome, even if you disagree, so please let me know what you think in the comments below!

Chairs

I put this little film together for our family reunion. It is probably the thing I am most proud of creating, in my entire life. Please enjoy :)

Hindu Temple ● by Jess

Last week, my friend Rachel and I went to visit the Hindu temple in Neasden. It's the very first traditionally built Hindu temple in Europe and it is GORGEOUS. Because it's a sacred space, we were only allowed to take photos outside the building, but we were able to go in to observe the holy spaces for worship.

Confession: Prior to this visit, I knew embarrassingly little about Hindism, other than their belief in reincarnation. Rachel and I were pretty much flying blind as tottled into the sanctum, the heart of the temple. Fortunately, when we walked in there were a million primary-aged children (on a school trip) running around, so that took the pressure of silence and decorum away for a moment while we got our bearings. 

The carvings were staggeringly beautiful-- so intricate and delicate-- it was like marble lace. Within the sanctum is a cupola with an arched ceiling that goes up into a three dimensional mandala that sort of makes your heart hurt it is so beautiful. Around the room were stone pillars, with hand carvings of gods and goddesses in their various reincarnations.  

Around walls of the main space were smaller rooms with statues of people set into scenes. They were unnervingly lifelike (although smaller than the average person). I'll be honest, at first sight, it felt like one of those films with the dolls that suddenly jump to life. I felt a tad uneasy not knowing what I was looking at.  

Fortunately, thickly accent believer came to our aid. The man explained that the statues were sacred images of their Deities, and were the most important part of the temple (This, of course, had to be explained to me later by Rachel as I only understood about fifty percent of his words, and comprehended even less).

To their Hindu followers, these images, or murtis, are very real. Temple patrons give them food and even close the doors to their rooms to allow them to sleep. The murtis are a physical receptacle for their Deities to reside. Because of the murtis, the temple is a place for their Gods to literally live and commune with their followers.  

It was a really beautiful and I'm so glad I had a friend to experience it with me. I really enjoy living in a place that has such a multiplicity of religious and cultural experiences. I feel like learning as much as you can about other people's lives and beliefs can only serve to make you more empathic and, hopefully, a better human being.

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Old Testament + Easter ● by Jess

Easter: that time of year when the devout among us decry the pink, egg-laying bunnies-- Those fluffy fiends! 

But let's get real for a second. 

The name Easter actually comes from the Norse goddess Eōstre (shown below), whose festival celebrated the Spring equinox. In reality, we pretty much handed the holiday over the moment we merged it with a pagan deity. 

Maying, John Collier, 1900

It's sad though because the name “Easter” really undermines a deep and provocative Jewish symbolism going back millennia. It's stuff you miss if you think (as I previously did) that the Easter celebration starts at the cross and ends at the tomb.

So, let's go back... waaaaaaay back.

We're in Egypt, in an Israelite (Jewish) slum. For several generations now, your family has been enslaved by the Egyptian elite. You endure back-breaking labor everyday, building an empire to a faith you don't believe in. Each night you go to sleep, afraid that you captors will murder your children (because they have before), but know you can't leave. You have no place to go.

Israel in Egypt, Edward Poynter, 1867

Then one day, there's an echo of hushed excitement; you can feel it buzzing in the air. The late king's son has just returned; months ago he'd vanished after killing a fellow Egyptian. But now, somewhat inexplicably, he's come home and plans to go to the Pharaoh, his stepbrother, to speak on your people's behalf.

However, as a monarch, the Pharaoh remains stoic and unmoved. He knows it would be economic suicide to free your people. Angered, he only increases your workload.

But the Pharaoh's brother (Moses) has something special-- it's a gift literally given to him by God. It's a staff, endowed with a power you don't fully understand, but you know works miracles.

Moses is determined to prove God's power to Pharaoh and that it is He who is asking for the freedom of his children. Moses begins performing miracles. He turns the staff into a snake, the river into blood, and brings plagues of frogs, lice and flies.

Unfortunately, the court magicians are able to mimic the wonders, so the king remains unaffected.

The horrors begin to escalate. Moses brings painful, festering boils to the Egyptians skin, famine to the land and fire from the sky. But the plagues only cement the Pharaoh's resolve. He will not budge.

At last, God tells Moses he will send only one more plague. If the Pharaoh does not relent, He will kill the first born child of every Egyptian family. He tells your people to prepare to leave the city by making food... you must prepare it quickly so the bread won't have time to rise. He also instructs you to kill an unblemished lamb.

You are told to take the blood from the lamb and put it around your doorway. That night when Death comes to take the first-born children, it will pass by the homes with blood on the doorframe.

In the end, when the Pharaoh learns of his son's death, he breaks, allowing the Israelites to go free.

Let's take a step back now. What I've just described is the first Passover Feast (so named because the Israelites were spared or “passed over”).

Now for the exciting bit: Passover is basically “pre-Easter.” In it, we see a perfect mirror to what would come later with Christ.

Rescue of the Lost Lamb, Minerva Teichert

Take a moment to consider the parallels. A perfect, unblemished lamb (which Christ is repeatedly referred to throughout the New Testament – 1 Pet 1:19, John 1:29, Rev 12:11) is sacrificed. His blood is spilt to save us from death-- both in a physical sense (through resurrection), but also in a spiritual sense. In the end, the death of the firstborn (again, Christ – Heb 12:23) is what allows His people to be freed; freed from sin and allowed to return to live with God.

It's not a coincidence either that Christ shares the Passover Seder (the meal the Jewish people have to commemorate their deliverance out of Egypt) with his disciples the night before his crucifixion. It was important that his disciples made the connection to that dark part of their cultural history because, spiritually speaking, they were in the same place. Christ was about to deliver all of mankind the same way Moses delivered the Israelites.

Though most of us fail to realise it, Passover is an essential part of the Christian narrative of Easter. Through it, we start to see a beautiful and nuanced symbolism that connects the Old Testament to the New by making it a unified story.

For believers and non-believers alike, Jesus Christ's crucifixion is a pivotal moment in human history. However our Easter holiday is not just a celebration of mankind's transition into a new era, the ushering in of spring, or excitement about fluffy pastel bunnies (although I am rather partial to them).

We are observing a long history of pain, death, redemption and love. We are celebrating the resolution between the existential paradox of mercy and justice. We are acknowledging our indebtedness to the person who delivered us from our shortcomings so that we can find experience joy after death.

May your day be filled with happiness, family and ponderings of Christ. Happy Easter from Jon and Jess!

Patience In Trial ● by Jess

I remember sitting in the airplane next to my husband and grabbing his hand. Inside I was screaming with joy. We were about to be expats in London! 

I was certain the road ahead of us would be perfect. First, I'd reestablish my photography business, which had been quite successful in NYC. Then, after a few years of basking in the glory of that, we'd have a quartet of beautiful babies and we'd all speak to each other with swanky transatlantic accents, and everything would be sublime.

Needless to say, reality was about to hit. Hard.

It started with my business. I quickly learned that wedding photography is a very different animal on this side of the pond, as are the people working within the industry. After several disheartening experiences with colleagues, I started to wonder if I was pursing the right path.

The final nail in the coffin came in the shape of a ninety-five pound brunette bombshell. She was twirling around, as models are wont to do, and smashed into a table that had my equipment set up on it (kids these days!). A full kit of lenses and flash units smashed to the floor, all more or less destroyed.

Despite the thousands of dollars of smashed glass, I wasn't too upset to begin with. After all, I did have insurance. Unfortunately, I found out later that my insurance was a US policy, and once I left the country, it was no longer valid.

Darn.

So, that was that. I picked up the pieces I started applying to new jobs. In six months, I received only one interview. I prayed to know where to go and what to do, but I never really felt like I was getting an answer. At my lowest point, I applied to a discount clothing store where everyone working was either under 18 or could barely speak English.

They rejected my application by email within 15 minutes.

If I couldn't even get a job THERE, where in the world was I suppose to work? The sheer volume of rejections was almost comical, and I could only think that God must have his hand in it. Otherwise, it just didn't make sense.

Around the end of those six months, an intense maternal drive kicked in and I started to wonder if perhaps the reason I wasn't getting work was because it was time to become a mommy.

Sadly, this path ended in miscarriage.

By this point, I felt so drained and so broken. For me, the worst part was feeling like my husband might no longer see me as the strong, successful woman I had been before. I was embarrassed, sad and so very tired.

One night, it all just felt like too much. I stayed up after my husband went to bed, sobbing in the bathroom til I was to numb to cry anymore. I prayed for a long time.

The only thought seered through the numbness was, “If you could do anything, what would it be?”

That answer was obvious. I wanted to teach-- little ones (that maternal drive hadn't left). But I'd looked for jobs of that kind a dozens of times already and they all required certifications and experience I didn't have.

The next morning I woke up. My eyes felt like I'd gained fifty pounds overnight, all around my eyelids. But the question still burned in my brain, “If you could do anything, what would it be?” So I got on Gumtree (the UK Craigslist) and, once again, looked for teaching jobs.

To my surprise, there, at the VERY TOP OF THE PAGE, was a position in a Private school, specifically looking for teachers seeking certification. It was a hybrid teaching-licensure program and it was located within walking distance of our house! I honestly couldn't believe it. I had to read it five or six times just to make sure it was real.

Within days I was offered the job and I started teaching a month later. Thanks, in part, to this program, I'll be getting my Masters in Education this Fall at one of the best education programs in the world.

In hindsight, God was ready to give me everything I had been asking for, all the way down to the tiny details. The problem, of course, was that I had to give it time to happen. Admittedly, I have always struggled with being patient. In James we read, "Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” James 1:2-4

It can be so hard to find that quiet contentment in our lives, especially when we are so desperate to force order in our time and in our own way. God knows us, he loves us and he will help us in every way possible. We just have to take a step back, and allow the subtle, but significant blessing of trust in our Heavenly Father to get us where we need to go.

[Post originally featured on Green Eyed Jen]

10 Things I Believe In ● by Jess

Lately I've been surrounded by some very passionate people. I think that kind of enthusiasm and fervor tends to rubs off people and it has made me ponder a lot on my own beliefs. In no particular order, here are a few of the things that I believe: 

A couple of months ago, I was chatting with an ex-boyfriend. We caught each other up on one another's lives, and I (of course... one must make use of these moments to gush) told him about getting married to Jon. 

He told me how lucky I was to have such a happy marriage, which I thought was a really sweet thing to say... the first two times he said it. Unfortunately, over the course of the conversation, he continued to attribute  all the good things that have happened in my relationship, to luck. 

It obviously irked me and, in hindsight, I wish I had stopped him and said, "Yes, I am so lucky to have found a guy like Jon, but luck isn't the reason we're together."

As our families and close friends can attest, our dating days were abysmal. Between the tears, the frustration and the numerous break-ups, it is definitely not a time I like to think about. But, it is because of the difficulties PRE-marriage, that our marriage NOW feels so blissful and effortless. Love requires patience, forgiveness and an acceptance of the other person's weaknesses. It's a beautiful thing, but you've got to earn it. 

I get unreasonably peeved when someone flippantly says, "But if you TEACH a man to fish, you feed him for life!" As if somehow it magically solves every problem of global poverty. Here's why--

Let's pretend this unlearned man is real. Now, let's teach him to fish. Immediately, I have concerns:

Are you giving him the pole/net? What if it breaks? Have you also taught him how to fix it? Will he be able to afford it? What about this man's family? Can he catch enough to sustain his wife/children?

Assuming you've put all that in order, let's think about the logistics of fishing:

Does he need a fishing licence? Who pays for that?

Now let's zoom out a bit:

Where is he fishing? Is there a sustainable number of fish in the pond/river? Whose land is he fishing on? Who owns the water rights?

Now let's think environment:

Is there any environmental toxins in the area that might be polluting the water?  When was the water last tested? Is it possible that mercury levels in the fish will actually kill him instead of save him?

This is just a taste of all the many many many things that must be considered in development; Education is vital, but it doesn't exist in a vacuum. 

 Does anything more need to be said, really?

I believe firmly in happily EVER AFTERs. 

I believe with all my heart in a loving Heavenly Father that allows families to stay together for always. If this idea feels as true to you as it does to me, you should check out this short film. 

Growing up, my parents always were very encouraging of their children getting an education and learning. That being said, I think it is safe to place their approach in the "education as a means to an end" category, ie a way to get a good job. I was raised with the caution to avoid becoming the dreaded "professional student" (someone who just keeps amassing degrees and never gets a real job). 

This is a point where I have to lovingly disagree with my parents... I think, as long as you can afford it, being a professional student sounds like my dream life. I'm pretty sure Jon and I will never have a normal-sized house, but we'll have travelled tons and have a lovely collection of degrees. Priorities, Priorities, I guess.

When I lived in eastern Europe, I saw the after-effects of communism on the people of Romania. Parents easily gave their children to orphanages if they had even the simplest of handicaps (like cleft palates or club feet, which are in no way cognitive!). It made my heart hurt. Couldn't they see that their children needed them? 

When I came back to the States and started realising America has the same sort of problems. So many of society's maladies could be healed if every child felt safe and loved... and saw their fathers treating their mothers with love and respect... and were taught the difference between right and wrong. Surely there would still be problems in the world, but a whooooooooole lot less of them. 

 I believe God answers our prayers in two ways: 

1) Directly - You'll get an impression, thought or sign to do something. You do it. All is well. 

or

2) Directionally - You'll get an impression, thought or sign to do something. You do it. But then.... what you anticipated never materialises. Maybe this is applying for a job, or pursuing a relationship, or undergoing a medical treatment... You do what you feel prompted to do, but in the end, it doesn't work out. 

Does that mean God LIED TO YOU??

This second kind of revelation is a bit like God has given you the North Star. You'll never actually get to that destination in the distance, but it will orient you, so that you get to where he needs you in the end.

 When we were first married, Jon and I lived in NYC. I hated it. 

I know to most people reading this, those words are some sort of sacrilege, but it's the truth. New York just seemed so dirty and crowded and unsafe. It was like this little cesspool of sadness, and it made me very unhappy. 

Then I found this blog, and seeing the author running around with her little boy, taking photos and having adventures, just made me stop and think -- WHOA! I want that!

So, I got out a camera, hustled my buns into Manhattan (from Queens) and started looking at the city through a lens. Suddenly, this beautiful Neverland of glass and steel and people opened up to me. Hello camera, bye-bye sadness. 

 The very best thing you can do with your time and money is invest it into preserving memories-- 

A few ideas:

Journaling

Blogging

Photographing

Video

Scanning old film

Recording your grandparents, children or yourself

Life is fleeting and you are the only one that can catch the memories and save them for later.

At the risk of sounding like this video, I won't preach too much on this topic, except to say that I've been changed for the better by meeting lots of different kinds of people and seeing how they live. Travel is an adventure worth having. It will open your mind, diminish your prejudices and excite your soul.

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Westminster Evensong | Vlog (Episode Eight) ● by Jess

Every now and then, we'll have a video set to private, so only our family will see it. This may be for a few reasons... maybe we are discussing something private or about my work (legally I can't discuss anything-- even the cute things! that happen at school without specific permission)... or perhaps its because we snagged some footage that we could get into trouble for capturing. Because I operate on the "forgiveness is easier than permission" mantra, when it comes to my camera, this will probably happen  more often than I'd like to admit. ;)

Anyway, I'll let you guess why today's video is set to private. It's a short, lovely afternoon at Westminster Evensong and here is a still to tease...

Evensong at St. Paul's Cathedral ● by Jess

In most larger cities, you find that all the big pretty buildings cost lots of money to get inside. Often this includes cathedrals, which is really frustrating! Shouldn't churches be free?! Anyway, we've been wanting to visit the inside of St. Paul's since we got here and recently realized (this seem obvious to everyone else), but they can't charge you to worship, we've started touring churches on Sundays!

The great thing about this, is that if you go to specific services, you get a gorgeous choral experience as well! This Sunday we went to St. Paul's Evensong (at 3pm-- got there early and got front row center seats!). 

You get to just sit and marvel at this enormous dome with all these insanely gorgeous mosaics and woodwork and masonry. There is choir made up of adorable little boys that sing scripture in phenomenal harmonies. When we went, they inducted a new little boy in that looked like a blond Harry Potter. It was awesome. 

    

A not-technically-allowed shot of the inner dome, which definitely does not do it justice. I had to snap it when the ushers weren't watching, which resulted in the left half of the image being a really sexy shot looking straight up my nose. I cropped it to spare your eyeballs. You're welcome. 

 

After the service, we found this awesome building just across the street that lets you go up to their roof for one of the most incredible city views I've ever seen in my life. So beautiful... Definitely an amazing way to spend a Sunday. 

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