THE Cheese Market sits to the west of Salisbury’s huge market square. It is many years since any Stilton or Wensleydale was hawked here: a triangular paved area, adjacent to the branch of Zizzi where the Novichok attack of 2018 first became evident (News, 16 March 2018). At five o’clock on a Saturday evening, the traders in the market square have packed up, and the Cheese Market plays host to last-minute shoppers completing the weekly grocery run, and early-evening revellers beginning a night out.
But, for two years, at five o’clock every Saturday evening, it has also played host to something else: a silent vigil for peace in Gaza and the Middle East. Week by week, a crowd has gathered to stand quietly. Images of peace doves are borne aloft. Home-made placards stuck on corrugated cardboard hang around necks. When fears of famine were at their highest, empty pots and pans were displayed; when the ceasefire was agreed, fragile blooms were held; now, on dark winter evenings, candles burn in jars.
We are a mixed gathering of young and old, Christians, Muslims, peace campaigners, and activists for justice for Palestine. Passing motorists honk their support, and every week one or two passers-by (sometimes including those early-evening revellers) notice the crowd, read the banners, and come to stand with us. There is no speech-making, no shouting, no sloganeering. We stand together and we stand in silence, bearing witness to the catastrophe that has been unleashed on Gaza and the West Bank, and yearning for justice and peace for the region.
MOST visitors to Salisbury come to experience a holy place. The Cheese Market is less than half a mile from the cathedral where I serve and its encircling Close. The cathedral has the oldest working clock, the best-preserved Magna Carta, and the tallest spire in England — facts allegedly known to President Putin’s agents, seven years ago. Visible from all the approach roads, the sight of the spire is a reassurance to Salisbury-dwellers that home is near, and to pilgrims that holiness is near. Yet, on Saturday evenings, the crowd that gathers to hold candles and keep silence creates another holy space in the heart of the city.
The cathedral’s ancient stones are soaked in eight centuries of prayer. Its aisles echo with the sacred music of countless generations. It offers acts of worship of sublime beauty, attended by thousands. Now, the public benches, council litter bins, roadside railings, traffic lights, and advertising banners of the Cheese Market have been similarly hallowed. Community, solidarity, and compassion; witness to injustice; longing for peace; determination to stand up, and stand with — these are hallmarks of holiness and, together with the cathedral’s chants and processions, they create a new Rite of Sarum.
Candles flicker in our hands as we shift from one foot to another. The minutes tick by. Shoppers stare and take in the placards. Justice. Peace. Liberty. Now. In God’s name.
The Very Revd Nicholas Papadopulos is the Dean of Salisbury.
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