Cadiz, despite language barriers, offers window to faith

     On a bright December morning, I wander the narrow streets of Cadiz, Spain.  The weather is cool with a hint of warmth as the sun rises above the horizon. Church bells ring in unison as believers are called to worship. The locals, who call themselves Gaditanas, emerge from their homes.  I crisscross around the squares and pass dramatic cathedrals.  I continue to walk these cobblestone streets lined with three story buildings.  Small iron balconies frame every window in an array of color and design. The buildings near by appear in the windowpanes as beautiful reflections.  I pause in front of a smaller church, Iglesia del Carmen, located across the street from the promenade that runs along the fortified sea wall.  The door beckons me and I enter into the twilight.  

      Cadiz is rumored to be the oldest continuously inhabited European city. The Phoenicians established this settlement as an important seaport 3500 years ago.  The old city has played a unique role in the history of humankind as a crossroads to the old and new worlds. Like Charleston, Cadiz is a peninsula.   Continuing from ancient times, the harbor welcomes ships from all over the world.  In the 17^th and 18^th centuries, many towers were built atop the buildings as beacons to sailors and remains one of the town’s sources of pride.  These towers endure today as a testament to the affluence and distinction of this exceptional town.

     I am pulled towards this smaller cousin of the cathedrals.  The smell of incense fills the air and organ music swirls upward as I stand in the doorway.  A service is beginning.  I quickly find a seat in one of the pews.  Because this space is considerably smaller than most cathedrals, there is a sense of intimacy.  My gaze is drawn to the beautiful wooden wall covered in gold leaf behind the altar.  The intricate detail leaves me with a new appreciation for the craftsmen who created this masterpiece.  Mary, the mother of Jesus is featured in the middle where she looks lovingly out into the congregation.

     The priest welcomes us in Spanish.  I say us because at that moment, I am part of this community of worshippers.  Each of us is drawn here to this place in this time.  I am struck by the powerful connection I feel to a group of people I do not know.  For an hour and a half, we share a common love of God and it is evident as they praise Him in their language.  I sit quietly and consider a marvelous truth; I can be anywhere in the world and feel at home in one of my Father’s many houses of worship.  I can walk into any Christian Church or Cathedral and experience the presence of God if I am open to His voice.  No matter where I find myself, I can share my faith with strangers despite a difference in language and culture.  Before God, we are equally loved.  No one is greater than the other.  As we come together, a leveling field is created.  Social status, economic differences and our occupations are set aside as we focus on a common denominator.  In this moment, we are truly human as we unite with our creator.  Again, I ponder this truth and am humbled by the revelation.    

     I sit for a while, thinking and feeling.  In any Christian church in the world, I react exactly the same way. The thoughts that come to the surface of my consciousness are of a place of rest, peace, sanctuary, and home.  I sense God’s presence here as I can in Chartres, Cadiz and Charleston.  I don’t need to search the world for Him, but I know that when I explore the world, I can find Him in every church I enter.  In foreign places, this belief comforts me and gives me hope for the future of our world.  We have a common thread that connects us with love.