A Visit to the Isle of Ely. Part I: Infinite Mystery

 (Click any picture to enlarge)

The picture above isn't of some imaginative building dreamed up as an atmospheric backdrop for fantasy TV; it's real, it's Ely Cathedral. Here's how I saw it one hot mid September day, AD 2020: 

Ely cathedral  is built on a shallow rise on the Cambridgeshire fens, a rise which adds a few more metres to the 66 metre height of Ely's tower and means that the huge pile dominates the flat landscape for miles around. With its pillars, pinnacles, buttresses and mix of arches it could well serve as the location for a Victorian gothic melodrama.  It's exceptionally long nave and chancel  gives Ely cathedral a sprawling appearance. They call it "the ship of the fens" and it does look vaguely like a stretched out oil tanker at sea or even a huge sci-fi space ship crawling through space; after all, mediaeval cathedrals (and churches) were conceived as ships navigating the faithful to heaven with the priesthood at the helm.

Ely cathedral dominates the tiny city of Ely

The cathedral is central to the city of Ely. They call it a city but it is barely 2 kilometres across. In comparison  the relatively modest city of Norwich, with a width  of over 12 km, seems huge. Norwich's size diminishes the significance of its cathedral, a cathedral which in any case is well offset from the modern high-rise centre and tucked away down in the Wensum valley; in spite of its 100m spire it is nowhere near as dominating as Ely's cathedral which in contrast towers over a small cluster of largely traditional buildings, buildings which are probably not much higher than those of medieval times. The Cathedral therefore, leaves one with the strong impression that it continues its medieval role as a mother with her brood of gathered children watching after their spiritual life. I don't think I've been to another cathedral city where this sense of ecclesiastical matriarchal dominance is conveyed so strongly.

The above picture shows the triple viaduct of Romanesque arches which run down both sides of the nave as we see in many cathedrals. The author of the official cathedral guide remarks on the architecture of the building which like many other cathedrals has a...

....cruciform shape symbolising the Cross on which Jesus died. In the very plan of the church we are reminded that its life is founded on the faith in Jesus of Nazareth, a faith that sees in him the human face of God, the one who shows us what God is like. The symbolism is continued in the design of the nave; the ascending sequence of arches with their repeated three fold patterning resonates with the Church's belief that God is both one and three, a trinity of persons in unity of being; God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

The last time I visited this cathedral was in childhood during a school tour. As a safely obedient class we were led through the narrow colonnaded corridor high up in the clerestory of the nave; that is, the very top system of arches you can see in the picture above. There was no barrier and one trip would mean you'd fall 60 feet to your death! Such activities would surely be banned under current health and safety guidelines. But it was exciting, just as exciting as crawling through the dark Neolithic mines at Grimes Graves (also now banned).  We all emerged alive, however, so many thanks to my history teacher, a Mr. Fox, who took us on these fantastic adventures and whose enthusiasm for hands on history was catching! But actually in my case Mr Fox simply encouraged along a deep interest in the mysteries of origins that I already had in place. That times have changed so drastically from the days of flint mines and cathedrals only added to my fascination with the enigmatic dynamic & origins of our world and its cosmic context. I'm constantly being riddled about the meanings and purposes of the divine riddler who seems to take pleasure in regaling us with impossible riddles. Nevertheless in a strange way I welcome those mysteries just as Sherlock Holmes welcomed a new case. Mystery is the bread of life. 

Ely's magnificent architecture. 

As we can see above Ely cathedral has some marvellous architectural features not least the wonderful Octagonal lantern tower that everyone talks about. (Second picture above).  Gothic and Romanesque architecture always connects with my fascination with mystery; this, I suppose, is the l reaction the architects were striving to create as they sought to make us ponder the mystery & majesty of God. The architects of Ely would be glad to hear that I've never lost my interest in the meaning & mystery behind the human predicament, how it all started, where it's all going and humanity's place in divine purposes. The need to seek out and devour mystery has enveloped the whole my life. It is like an insatiable appetite, stronger even than social status & sexual interests. But I must confess that sometimes this mystery deeply frustrates me with its perplexities and paradoxes.

Striving to reach the infinite

The classical architecture of Georgian England is breathtakingly elegant; few would deny that. But in its perfection of completeness it conveys the antithesis of mystery, it's a finished and highly rational work. Of mystery and cypher Georgian architecture says "We've cracked it!". Yes it's a pleasure to experience the aesthetics of a problem rationally and elegantly solved, but then one feels "How boring, where's the next problem please, where's the next mystery!" Georgian architecture is undoubtedly highly satisfying in its appearance, but in another way it is unfulfilling: There is no sense of motion or of going-places; it's a job finished.  In contrast the open ended gothic tells us to reach for the sky; of infinite height that sky may be but it is this infinity which we have been made to grapple with.  Problem neatly solved gives way to  an open ended number of cases yet to be solved. 

Coming next, Part II: The Alpha Females of Ely.