Joan of Arc Wins Me £12.50
Parents, pay close attention to the media your children consume. Even before I became a semi-lapsed Christian, in my younger, more zealous days, I believed I had a healthy skepticism toward organized religion and an irreverent attitude toward Church authority.
So, I was surprised to feel a small thrill when I spotted Sarah Mullally, soon to be the first female Archbishop of Canterbury, among the clergy entering St Paul’s Cathedral on Sunday evening. She was there as Bishop of London, while I attended as a bereaved daughter.
Each year, St Paul’s holds a memorial service for families of patients who passed away at the nearby St Bartholomew’s Hospital. The ward where my father spent his last weeks overlooked the cathedral. It felt like a strange way to spend an evening.
My father’s youthful zeal ended more dramatically than mine—in ardent atheism. As I stepped out into the cold, dark night to attend the service, I could hear his voice in my head asking,
“What are you bloody doing that for?”
Seated beneath the cathedral’s great dome with my stepmother, I looked around at the other attendees, still wrapped in coats and scarves, and thought what a strange and somber group we were.
Author’s summary: The author reflects on faith, loss, and unexpected moments of reverence while attending a memorial service in St Paul’s Cathedral, revealing a complex personal journey between skepticism and belief.