A friend in Canterbury

For centuries pilgrimages ended in Canterbury. For me, it was where it all started.

Interior of Cathedral Church of St Thomas of Canterbury

It was seventeen years ago, almost to the day, that walked into St Thomas' Cathedral. I was recently married and studying, whilst also working at the Anglican Cathedral helping the multitudinous tourists (and occasional pilgrim) that passed through. Across the road from the citadel-like seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury was the much more modest Catholic Cathedral, dedicated to Canterbury's most famous martyr and saint, St Thomas Beckett.

An escape from the unruly french school children and loud American tourists across the road, St Thomas' was a sanctuary - set apart for prayer and devotion. I used to spend hours sat in there, sometimes praying, sometimes pondering what my spiritual and practical future held. Catholicism seemed so foreign (almost literally) to me. The statues, the relics, the adoration of the Sacrament - they seemed to belong to another religion to the restrained, choral and particularly English aspect of anglicanism.

One day, I decided to find out more about, and grabbed the nearest thing to a priest I could see - a brown-habited figure who had been praying in the same pew as me and was leaving just as I did. Brother Peter was a Capuchin Friar at a house in Canterbury and became a good friend over the next few years. I spent lots of time at the Friary, and he came to our small flat in the city centre. I was able to ask him many question, but what impressed me most was his humility and clear godliness. Here was a Catholic, and a religious at that, exhibiting such faith and belief that I was left in no doubt that there was a living stream of faith running deep within Catholicism.

He left eventually, going to Ireland to study to be a priest and I lost contact with him. Before he left he gave me a small packet containing a rosary and a book explaining how to use it. For years I kept it safe but didn't have the courage to give it a go, but it has now become a precious item to me - something I use every day.

So, why didn't I become a Catholic then? My faith and my cultural identity were very much mixed up - as I was exploring my Englishness (even though I was part-Irish), I found Catholicism too foreign, not English enough. But this was the start of the journey ...