So I'm taking what seems like my eleventeen hundredth cab ride up the hill to the University of Kent from my hotel. My cab driver is the chatty sort and asks if I'm a bishop. "No," I answer. "I'm just a priest from California here to keep an eye on the bishops."
"Good for you, love," he says. "Somebody should."
He pauses and then says,
"I'll tell you what, I'm not as church going a bloke as I ought to be, but one thing I know dead certain ... if Jesus was to show up in Canterbury this week he'd be spending less time parading around with the bishops on the hill and more time with the people in the pubs."
And there you have it ... the sermon for the day. (Let those with ears to hear, listen.)