Disco in the Church? Now, Tell Me About Canterbury Cathedral’s Defence

Canterbury Cathedral, a place steeped in centuries of history and sacred significance, recently found itself at the centre of controversy.

The ancient stone walls that have witnessed the prayers of countless faithful and the echoes of pilgrims were transformed into a dance floor for a “90s Silent Disco.”

The facts

Canterbury Cathedral, located in the heart of England, stands as a testament to faith, art, and human endeavour.

Its origins trace back to the arrival of St. Augustine of Canterbury in 597 AD, sent by Pope St. Gregory the Great to evangelise the English.

The cathedral’s Romanesque architecture, soaring vaulted ceilings, and rich history make it a pilgrimage site for those seeking spiritual solace.

But on two fateful evenings (Thursday and Friday) last week, the cathedral’s solemnity gave way to revelry. The nave, where St. Thomas Becket was brutally martyred in defence of the faith, witnessed an unexpected transformation.

Strobe lights painted rainbows across the ancient stones, and 3,000 partygoers donned neon-lit headphones for a “Silent Disco.”

DJs were also stationed at the foot of the rood screen spun ’90s hits, and the air pulsed with nostalgia.

The arguments

The juxtaposition of sacred space and pulsating beats raised eyebrows and ignited passionate debates among believers and nonbelievers alike.

The nave, where the blood of a martyr had once stained the ground, now hosted a dance floor. Cocktails flowed, and laughter echoed off the centuries-old walls.

Was this sacrilege or a celebration of life? The faithful gathered outside, praying for the cathedral’s sanctity, while inside, the disco beat drowned their pleas.

Surprisingly, the Dean of Canterbury, Very Reverend David Monteith, defended the event, emphasising that “Cathedrals have always been part of community life in a way much wider than their prime focus as centres of Christian worship and mission.”

But critics have questioned whether such festivities belonged within these hallowed walls. Was this a necessary compromise to raise funds for the cathedral’s upkeep, or had we crossed a line?

Cajetan Skowronski, a strong contender who set up a petition against the event also said, “Everyone likes a silent disco. But its place is in a nightclub, not in Canterbury Cathedral – the most important Christian church in England.

“It will not bring young people closer to Christ, rather it will send the message that Christ and his church, and all the truth, beauty and goodness it has to offer, are unimportant – that entertainment deserves our attention more than God, that Christians do not take their faith or their holy places seriously.”

In a world where sacred spaces are increasingly repurposed, the “90s Silent Disco” at Canterbury Cathedral forces us to confront our assumptions.

Can a place simultaneously honour its past and embrace the present? Is there room for both reverence and revelry within these ancient walls?

I, however, believe it is inappropriate for a disco to be defended and encouraged to continue in the walls of a sacred venue.