WE'VE just had one of those times in the minster when time is of the essence, writes Beverley Minster virger Neil Pickford. You know, "time" as in the tick-tock, tick-tock of passing time and also "time" as in the time since something happened.
Specifically, it was Remembrance Sunday, which marked, at precisely 11am, the time when the guns fell silent on the battlefields of the First World War (although not the date, because that was, of course, famously on the 11th day of the 11th month, which is tomorrow).
It's hard to imagine how that happened in reality. I do know that the virgers did our very best to ensure the minster's seven-and-three-quarter-tonnne Great John bell rang the first chime of 11 at exactly 11am, and enabled us to start the two-minute silence precisely on time.
Yesterday, it was a moment of great solemnity and power, and that was merely for the 96th anniversary. Can you imagine what it will be like in four years' time when the centenary of the end of the war will occur?
I suspect it will be hugely significant because, already, people have been coming into an area of the minster specifically to visit a candle stand and memorial book we've put out for the fallen of the Great War.
Almost every day over the past three months, people have sat down to meditate for a few minutes.
Long-dead relatives have been remembered, quietly, at a rate of one or two a week and their names entered in our pages.
Somehow, the whole desperate pain and sense of loss is being revisited, one person at a time, and I'm sure that this will only get stronger as we approach the centenary.
Not so long ago, Remembrance Sunday was dying out, along with the survivors of the Second World War, but then someone had the bright idea of inviting the Spice Girls (remember them) to front the event and it gained a new lease of life – so to speak.
Since then, we've had British soldiers dying in Iraq, Afghanistan and Kosovo, and this has only added to the current level of participation, which is good in one way, but terrible in another.
Due to a quirk of timing, I don't believe I lost any relatives in the Great War – my grandfather was too old to fight and my father had only just been born – but there were others from my family who died in subsequent conflicts and during those two minutes I can, albeit only faintly, share the pain of my older relatives.
For those brief moments in time, yesterday and tomorrow, different generations can unite in a sense of loss, sadness and, possibly, gratitude for their efforts.
Yesterday in Beverley Minster, the mood was different to that of any other day in the year – and I hope the passing of time will never change this unique moment in our annual calendar.
