A sermon on the Patronal Festival, commemorating St Faith of Agen (our 'patron saint)
There are many so called holy
places in the world. They are those
places where, somehow, the veil between our mortal world and the spiritual
world seems more fragile. Some people
call then ‘touching places’, or ‘thin places’ – places, that is, where one
seems to be able to reach out and almost touch the out-stretched hand of God.
According to the Hebrew
scriptures (or the Old Testament as Christians call it), Bethel was one such
place. After his prophetic dream, Jacob
called the place ‘House of God’ (which is what Beth-el means. (El was one of the early names for God). For many generations, it was one of Israel’s
holiest shrines. The Ark of the Covenant
was kept there, until it was transferred to Jerusalem. Prophets and leaders would go to Bethel, to
seek God’s wisdom and instruction.
Ironically, though, for such a
holy place, no-one can say with certainty today where Bethel actually was.
Attributions of holiness have
been given to many places over the millennia.
Stonehenge was once considered holy by its builders – as far as we
know. Great cathedrals and churches were
considered holy, thin places, because they often contained the bones of great
saints. For devotees of our patron
Saint, Faith of Agen, the abbey-church of Conques, France is one such
place. There are laid the bones of the
young martyr – cruelly murdered under the rule of the Roman emperor Diocletian,
because she refused to renounce her faith in Jesus Christ. Ask Bishop John and Janet Hind for their
account of the place – for they visited it only a few months ago.
Where is your ‘thin place’? Where is that you find that the veil between
the physical and spiritual worlds is somehow made thinner? For some, it may be a beautiful landscape –
the top of a great hill, perhaps. For
others, it will often be a place, like this building, in which hundreds of
years of prayer and worship have somehow soaked into the stones.
Holy places, then, are integral
to human faith. Ask a Muslim how he or
she feels about Mecca. Ask a Catholic
how they feel about St Peter’s in Rome.
And yet there is a danger, isn’t there, in investing all our energy into
buildings. Anyone who has toured the
ruins of great abbey churches around the UK, or sought in vain for the actual
site of Bethel, or who has seen the ruins of the Jerusalem Temple should know
that faith is not kept alive by holy places alone. They, like all physical things, must
pass.
Instead, Jesus points us towards
a much greater permanence – towards himself.
He is, in St Peter’s words – quoting from Psalm 118 – ‘the stone that the builders rejected,
who has yet become the cornerstone’. He
who existed before all time, through whom all things were made, and through
whom all things will find their conclusion – he, Jesus, is the ultimate ‘touching place’. By studying Jesus, getting to know him, we
can begin to touch that outstretched hand of God. In the Sistine Chapel ceiling , we see Michelangelo’s
take on that idea. God reaches out to
Man…but Man himself doesn’t seem bothered to make the effort. Michelangelo asks us – “are you more interested
in the beauty of this place, in the artistry of my picture, or in the honest
hard work of searching for God?”
In fact, if we are honest, holy
buildings can sometimes get in the way.
In the temple of Jerusalem, for example, human priests created a holy of
holies – a place in which God was said to actually dwell. It was a place so holy, that the High Priest
could only go into it on one day of the year, after elaborate rites of
purification. The New Testament tells us
that the curtain of that ‘holy of holies’ was torn down at the death of
Jesus. It was not a helpful picture of
God. It had to go. Now (as the book of Revelation has it), God’s
dwelling place was with people – not locked up in a back corner of a temple. In
fact, you and I are now where God dwells…not in buildings of stone, but in
living flesh and blood.
Even our own beautiful building
has some challenges – in terms of the story it tells about God. For example,
the way that the whole focus of the church is fixed on the High Altar, could suggest that God is distant from
us….that he is far away, and only to be approached on bended knee, in front of
a Sanctuary that ordinary people dare not enter. That is not, I think, the picture of God that
Jesus offers us. He wanted us to
understand God as our heavenly parent – the father who cares for his children
and who walks alongside us. Jesus taught
us to expect to find God’s spirit along us, leading us into all truth, dwelling
within us. These are not images of a
distant God. A church which has its
altar in the centre of the people might well be a much more accurate picture.
Some of our images of Jesus – in this beautiful building – are rather
problematic. The blond, bearded man on the cross in our East Window looks
nothing like the probably clean-shaven, dark-haired Jewish man who died for
us. What picture of God does this
building convey? It’s a picture of God
as an Englishman – a blond one at that!
That kind of image undermines all that Jesus and his followers taught us
about being one family of humankind, in which there is neither Jew nor Greek,
black nor white.
And yet, as those who steward and
care-for this church throughout the week will testify, the building has immense
value to all those who enter its doors throughout the week, seeking solace,
peace, or a place to seek God. That is
why, for all its theological confusion, I think that our continuing efforts to
refurbish this place are worthwhile. Its very age and architectural idiosyncrasies
are precisely what draw in those seekers of a thin place, a touching place.
But at the
same time, we must not forget that this building is not ‘the Church’. It is only a shell…at the end of the day, a
shelter from the rain in which the actual church can gather. Fundamentally it is now difference from the
church of St Nicholas in the parish of Nswam, Ghana – which I visited in
2015. A few palm branches, spread over a
frame. Just a shelter from the elements.
For, as St
Peter says, we are “living stones…built into a spiritual house, to be a holy
priesthood”. We are the church – not
these stones. We could – if the Diocese
would let us! – tear this whole place down – leaving a pile of rubble in the
middle of Havant. That would not mean
that the church was gone. The people who
make up the church would still be here (if a little damp, when it rains!).
And that is
why we are now beginning to turn our eyes towards the vital question of our Spiritual health as a congregation. For if we are to be strong living stones,
capable of being built into the true house
of God – a living house of holy priests of God – then we must focus on our own spiritual development. In just over a week’s time, I will be
presenting to the PCC a draft Spiritual Development Plan – a plan for ensuring
that every one of the living stones of this church has the chance to grow in
confidence and faith.
So please
pray for your PCC, as they ponder the work of the various groups who developed
our plan over the last six months. Pray
for them as they seek to hear God’s voice, calling us on beyond restoration of
paint and plaster (as necessary as that has been) and into the building-up of a
holy house of spiritual people, with heaven in their hearts, and the needs of
the world on their mind.
People with
so much faith, that they too, if ever called upon, might also demonstrate the
certainty of purpose and belief of our own patron, St Faith of Agen.
Amen.
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