by Gabrielle Morgan

Created on: May 31, 2008   Last Updated: November 24, 2008

THE ORATORY

At last, after years of yearning to see England, I had arrived in London. My great grandparents had emigrated to Australia in the l850's, but always called England home. It was in my blood, I felt a strong connection.

I had five days in London, so I immediately set out on foot from Earl's Court, where I was staying, and headed for Harrods Department Store in Kensington. A gleaming Rolls Royce graced Harrods window close to the Royal Patronage emblem on the side of the building, undoubtedly setting a tone of affluence and distinction. I was excited to see the interior of such a renowned and exclusive store.

I wasn't disappointed. I roamed around various departments tempted by the outstanding selection of goods displayed for the much wealthier than I. The decor was created to captivate the emotions and indeed lure to buy. Not to be outdone by the status of my surrounds, I ordered coffee from the gourmet food hall before I set out to walk down the Brompton Road.

It was the middle of the afternoon, I was tired, but determined to keep going and not miss any aspect of London life. As I walked along, I noticed a large, impressive church building with an Italianate facade complete with columns and high dome at the rear. A sign informed me it was the London Oratory, Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, built in 1880 1884'.

I went into the church and immediately sensed a reverence, the stillness only interrupted by the people who quietly walked through, all intent on seeking prayerful solace.

A Mass was in progress in front of the High Altar. I joined the congregation and from my seat in a pew marveled at all I could see. Candles flickered in shining gold candelabra illuminating the richness of the religious masterpiece above them. The priest wore a green chasuble, as regulated by the feast of the day, as he solemnly celebrated the Liturgy in its original Latin form. There was an enormous chapel to the right of the High Altar decorated with huge vases of fresh English flowers The sculptured Madonna and Child traditionally vested in Cope and Crown indicated it was The Lady Chapel. To the left of where I was sitting was the St. Philip Altar in front of which lay a wax effigy of St. Philip of Neri dressed in his Eucharistic vestments.

The sweet smell of incense permeated the air as I followed behind a queue of people moving slowly down the red and ochre carpet to receive the body of Christ in communion. The choir sang a Gregorian chant, and I had reached

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