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Awe and wonder
Creed
Film & TV
Re-enchanting
4 min read

The great pie mystery

Some unusual graffiti give insight into reality’s mysteries.
A green bridge spans a motorway, on its side is graffiti that reads 'PIES'
The view on the M6.
drgillybean, Creative Commons.

Do you have a favourite piece of graffiti? I used to.  

If you're travelling on the M6 around Cheshire, at some point you’ll come to one of those green motorway bridges. And on the side of it, overlooking the tarmac, you'll see in massive writing the word “PIES”.  

When I was a kid, I used to be fascinated by this. It raises so many questions. Who wrote the graffiti? How did they do it? Was this person in favour of pies or against them? Was it about all pies or just some pies? What had happened in this person's life to make them have such strong opinions about pastry?  

And it was just me. For nearly 30 years, people were left nonplussed about the graffiti as more and more instances of it began to crop up across the North-West of England. 

And then, in 2016, the mystery was solved. Apparently, it wasn't really to do with pies at all. It was all the result of a Liverpool band called The Pies trying to promote their music. After getting stuck on the motorway one day, they decided to write the name of their band on the side of the motorway bridge because, well, what else are you going to do when you’re broken down?  

It's fair to say, I was a little bit gutted to learn about the origins of the graffiti. 

What was once an intriguing mystery that kept me up at night and haunted my every thought (okay, perhaps a slight exaggeration) was revealed to be something so … boring. With hindsight, I wish I'd never learnt the truth about what happened. I thought wanted to know the origins of the pastry-based vandalism but, as they say, ignorance sometimes is bliss.  

You see, we sometimes need a little bit of mystery in life.  

Peel back the world in Lost or Westworld and you see there’s actually only a thin layer of reality masking a great chasm of nothingness. 

This is evident in lots of different ways, but perhaps most apparent when it comes to entertainment and art. TV series Lost, for example, was a huge hit when it first came out. Why did the plane crash? What is the island? What is the smoke monster? Viewers were hooked and demanded answers.  

But then answers came and everyone was upset. As Lost went through series after series, and explained more and more about what was happening, the audience slowly became more and more disenchanted with the program. The finale – where the programme’s biggest mysteries were finally revealed – was almost universally panned. 

The same to be said of the recent HBO hit Westworld. Its first series was by far and away its best. But season two and three trailed off significantly as there was simply no mystery left in the programme after its spectacular first series. I wonder if this is precisely why the works of the late David Lynch were as compelling as they were? The still-incredible Twin Peaks holds up so well precisely because it categorically refuses to explain itself. 

Elsewhere there is a growing tendency in video games, for example, for the narrative of the story to be hidden away, shrouded in mystery and atmosphere. Think of From Software games like Dark Souls and Elden Ring, massively successful in part because they are so mysterious. In both instances, it’s entirely possible to complete the game and have no clue whatsoever that there was even a story in the game, let alone to understand it. The player becomes captured by the mysteries of the worlds they find themselves in, and it’s these mysteries, rather than any answers, than compel them forwards. 

The reason why programmes like Lost and Westworld begin to lose their allure as they explain more and more about their world is that this jars with the reality of the world around us. Peel back the world in Lost or Westworld and you see there’s actually only a thin layer of reality masking a great chasm of nothingness.  

Peel back the world around us, however, and reality goes all the way down. And this is precisely what we would expect from a world created by a God, who is infinitely Infinite. Reality is not paper thin; goes all the way down. It is mysterious, unfathomable, and resists easy answers. 

And so, when we get disappointing explanations about a plane crash in a TV programme, or the origins of our favourite graffiti, it rightly leaves us feeling unsatisfied. Because we are made to be at home in a world that is deeply real. We are made to be at home in a world where the reality has unfathomable, unimaginable depth to it. A world that cannot simply be explained away. 

And this is why mystery is so important in our life. In the post-Enlightenment culture in which we find ourselves, a culture that demands every question be answered and every Scooby-Doo villain be unmasked, the notion of boundless mystery might seem somewhat disquieting. 

But we are made for mystery. And this is why the best works of art trade more on the mysteries they introduce, rather than the answers that might be behind them. And this is why mystery can be found all around us. Even in a pie.

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Article
Awe and wonder
Community
Creed
4 min read

Cathedrals are making a comeback, here’s why

From soft toys to crisis moments, these flagships hold much more than our stories.

David was the Dean of St Paul's Cathedral for ten years until retiring in 2022.

A puppet donkey peaks over the edge of a cathedral pulpit
Family carol service, St Paul's Cathedral.

What is it about cathedrals?  Under a secular French government, €700 million has been spent on renewing Notre-Dame Cathedral after the 2019 fire disaster. The money hasn’t however come from French taxpayers, but from donations large and small by people in France and from across the world.  And the number of people entering cathedrals to visit, or pray, or meet with others keeps going up, even as church attendance declines and religion seems out of fashion – so what’s going on?  

Building a large church is a long and very costly process, and Christian communities could take a century or more to build or upgrade a cathedral as resources became available. In lands where Christian faith was embraced by those in power, governments would help to build and endow cathedrals. They were not only central points for worship and church life in their area, but were large covered meeting spaces which were also used by the state for synods, coronations, meetings or services which supported political life and enhanced social cohesion. Communities and rulers wanted to have the best and biggest building they could, to the glory of God (and also that of its builders): and cathedrals were a focus for the best that could be found in architecture and art, sermons in stone and stained glass, colourful high-rise marvels inspiring the inhabitants of an often ugly and dingy low-rise world. 

So what explains the enduring attraction of cathedrals, and the emotional bonds between these buildings and us which the rebuilding of Notre Dame has highlighted? 

For a start, these buildings are the holders of stories and identities. We humans love a good story.  We want to hear, see and tell stories; to make a story out of our own life; to be part of a bigger story which gives us identity and meaning. In cathedrals, I’ve met visitors and pilgrims eager to know the history, in other words the story of such an amazing place and all it contains. There are the visitors writing their own stories who take a picture of their cuddly toy at each tourist destination. And there are the men and women at a crisis point. in their own story who come in search of forgiveness or hope or love, and begin to find it in the great story of God, Jesus and the Christian faith to which a cathedral bears witness.  

That holding of identity isn’t only individual, of course. The tragedy of 2019 in Paris was felt across the world, because Notre Dame with its glorious architecture and its treasures is a part of the world’s story with which millions of people have become engaged through their visits and understanding; a tragedy felt of course most deeply in France, where the cathedral is entwined with French history and identity. Each cathedral, whatever its age or size, carries the story of its community and people, is part of our human story, of yours and mine. Their heritage is ours too. The story a cathedral tells about identity, faith and hope can enliven and inspire. 

Then again, cathedrals are witnesses. Cathedrals don’t only host state occasions: their role is to be a place for people from a wide geographical and social area to meet and celebrate, worship, mourn, listen and learn. They are places where we are both affirmed and challenged. Whether it’s a local charity concert to help those in need, a major company anniversary, a seminar or a protest venue for people concerned about a hot political, social or religious topic, the mourners of a significant public figure, or a homeless person seeking dignity as well as shelter – cathedrals witness to the value of human life before God. As a cathedral Dean I went from greeting the monarch to talking with Terry the Big Issue seller: for a cathedral, all are beloved by God, and there to be welcomed. 
While cathedrals hold story and identity, looking backwards, and witness to and focusing of a local or national community looking around them, you might imagine another axis of attraction as looking forward and upwards, ‘flagships of the Spirit’.  

Cathedrals, like all churches, are metaphorical footprints of God in the world: spiritual space set aside to step outside ourselves and our everyday lives, to reflect, to pray and worship, to seek an encounter with the presence of God. When I worked at St Paul’s Cathedral in London, our aim was to enable people in all their diversity to encounter the transforming presence of God in Jesus Christ, whatever that would mean for them; and sometimes we succeeded. A survey of visitors entering cathedrals found that only 10 per cent of them were intending to do something spiritual; but when they came out, 40 per cent of them had prayed, lit a candle, spoken with a priest or gone to worship.  

The authorities in Paris are expecting their visitor numbers to go up to 15 million a year after re-opening. Even Donald Trump and Elon Musk were in Notre Dame. Next time you're near a cathedral, why not go and explore the story?' 

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