Silence in an Ancient Chapel
Recently, I went to Dorset for a few days. As part of my explorations, I drove to Worth Matravers and then walked to St Aldhelm’s Chapel.
This place of worship, built on the clifftop, is over 800 years old. As you approach through the farmland, the chapel appears squat and close to the ground. The walls are braced against the wild, coastal weather by powerful buttresses. The chapel is only one storey high and built entirely of stone. A single, narrow door admits you to the interior, which is dark and wet underfoot. Dark because a tiny stained glass window and the doorway are the only sources of light. Wet because the roof needs some attention. Whilst recognisably a chapel, the interior felt like a cave. The stone floor glistened with water, but one could sit comfortably on a pew. Different worlds, the sacred and the profane, had got used to each other in this place. They had lived together so long that they were now content in each other’s company.
I sat down to experience this unique atmosphere and the silence. Outside, the wind blew, gulls called, and the sea crashed on the base of the cliff. But the ancient stones of St Aldhelm’s absorbed all these sounds. Inside, the chapel was silent.
Silence is so rare as to be a luxury. To be part of the modern world is to be surrounded by noise. Distant music, the hum of central heating systems, fans, vacuum cleaners, aircraft, power tools, cars, motorcycles, pinging devices, loud conversations. But here on a headland in Dorset, all gone. It was as if I were seeing a beautiful view; I marvelled and wanted to drink it in. So I did. I sat in silence and let my mind clear, let it drift towards the glorious nothing that is so elusive. I was intensely aware that other human beings had sat in that same place for centuries. They were all seeking the same experience as me, an escape from the cluttered, noisy, everyday world. The world of expectations, responsibilities and demands. As this place is a chapel, many would have been mindful of the words of the psalmist “Be still, and know that I am God”. But there is something for everyone in silence. It is a reset, a welcome escape from too-much. A moment of deep, personal peace.
