From One Religious Experience to Another

The Fifth Church of the London Tour

and
Abbey Road!

I carefully planned my route early in the morning. I would get onto the Central Line Tube train at Chancery Lane, change to the Bakerloo Line at Oxford Circus, change to the Overground Line at Queen's Park, and get off at Kilburn High Road. I would make it in time for the 11:00 Mass at Sacred Heart Catholic Church on Quex Road, and then go from there. To where? You know.

So far, I had been to two Anglican churches (Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's) and two Catholic churches (St. Peter and Westminster Cathedral). I could describe St. Peter and the cathedral pretty easily if you asked me to (and indeed, I already have described one of them), but Sacred Heart is a little more of a chore. Let me try it.

...

It was familiar, yet foreign.

Yeah, that should do it.

The familiar lay in part of the Mass that I hadn't heard consistently since I was a kid (the short sentence after the Lamb of God invocation, the one that Msgr. Schaedel always says) and that I've gotten used to over only five weeks here (chaos instead of orderly lines for Communion; apparently, it's not just a Colombian thing!). There was also a guest homilist, a missionary from India asking for money to support a seminary program over there (I gave a pound.). That part reminded me of summers at St. Malachy, where every weekend or two we had a guest who shared stories and asked for our time, talent, treasure, or prayers. It unexpectedly brought me home.

The foreign part? No one said anything at the same time. If a visitor were just listening and not participating, he/she would hear jumbled voices instead of, "And also with you," or the Lord's Prayer. (But everyone was together on the after-petitions Hail Mary!) This may have been caused by another characteristic of this service that... well, it's not foreign per se, but really a reminder of the Church's universality.

Everyone was there, it seemed. Europeans, Africans, Indians, Orientals; young and old; suits and t-shirts; nearly every possible type of person was there. The eucharistic ministers were black and white and Asian, the altar servers were black, the visiting homilist was Indian, and the celebrant was Indian. I love St. Malachy, but we're a pretty white parish. I'm glad this was Corpus Christi weekend, because all the parts of the Body of Christ were on full display here. (Or nearly all. Getting every part would be impossible. Just enough to provide a good representation.)

***

From one religious experience to another.

Once Mass was over, I took out my iPod and set it to play... you know... the entire album.

I planned for this specifically. Sacred Heart is on the north end, and the famous zebra crossing is on the south end. So, I had about 30 minutes, to myself, to listen to Abbey Road while I walked down Abbey Road.

Beatles music has never sounded so good. As the address numbers went down from 146 to 103 to 51 to 32 and finally to 3 (the studios), I felt as if I were back in 1969, when the songs were new and fresh. (They're still fresh, but humor me!) Even more strongly, I felt like Iain Macmillan, the guy who took the album cover photo. I felt a part of music history, and every zebra crossing that was not at 3 Abbey Road drew me even more into the magic.

Then I remembered that I was a tourist, going to a tourist destination, with other tourists. I only realized that, fortunately, once I got to the actual crossing, so I at least had the whole walk to indulge my dreams.

I also remembered that it was 2009, and that business is still booming in the area. As is the traffic. Given that I was alone (I planned for that!) I could be a Beatlemaniac on my own schedule, as long as it coincided with the cars and buses going through the three-street intersection.

Let me tell you a little bit about zebra crossings. Pedestrians have the right of way. When someone is walking through such a crossing, cars have to stop for him/her until the pedestrian reaches the other side. People can walk through a zebra crossing whenever they choose, and cars are ready to stop if they need to. Britons (and people who have stayed here for five weeks) know how they work, and both sides of the transaction get along just fine.

Chaos enters the equation when foreigners try to cross the zebra. They don't know how zebra crossings work, so they think they have to wait for the traffic to clear. They don't have to wait; as I said earlier, drivers are prepared to stop. This difficulty was in my head when I saw people trying to recreate the scene; they felt like they had to communicate with the traffic and watch for the exact moment when they could cross.

I forgave them, though, when I remembered that the photographer has to be outside the zebra stripes and in the street. So, yes, Abbey Road crossers have to deal fully with traffic, even given the nature of such crossings.

Anywho, since I was alone, I did some things that a group might not have had the patience for: get perspective photos from each Beatle's spot on the crosswalk, take photos for other people, and write a note & mug for the camera outside the studios. What I couldn't get, of course, was the album-cover shot for myself, so I had someone take a photo of just me crossing.

Given the traffic at that particular time, it didn't turn out too well. I didn't direct the photographer very well, either; I should have told her to get closer to the middle of the street. (I did for her picture with three of her friends.)

Still, this proves that I was there. !!!!!! (I had gotten to "Carry That Weight" at this point, by the way.) Even though the main point of this jaunt was to get something like The Photo, I at least know now how the traffic works so that the next time I go (with at least four other people!) I'll have everything figured out.

And I had the Abbey Road Album Walk! That was worth everything. If anything bad happens in the last three weeks here, I'll say to myself, "At least I heard Abbey Road on Abbey Road."