Sermons don’t always come
easily. This one did. The prospect of preaching a sermon in Llandaff Cathedral
on 26th May 1999 at the inauguration of the National Assembly filled me both
with fear and an immense sense of occasion. My meditation, to be given before
the Queen, Wales’ emerging and established politicians, the Christian community
and a nation, belonged to a series of three. It had already been decided that
the service would focus on an inclusive, just and reconciled society. I was
asked to reflect on the theme of a just society. The whole content of the
service sought to celebrate Wales’ history but also to look to the future.
At that stage when a sermon is nothing more than an empty space on a blank piece of paper, I experienced the need to pray at the feet of Jacob Epstein’s imposing Christ in Majesty in Llandaff Cathedral. I don’t know why, but I did. When seeking God, I usually prefer mountains to Cathedrals. In an awesome setting and an equally awesome silence a Welsh Christian who had campaigned for a new political institution simply prayed and dared to imagine. This is the sermon.
'Today We Dare
to Imagine'
‘We stand today at the feet of Jacob Epstein’s
Christ in Majesty – a tangible expression,
in metal and stone, of a belief.
Wales has many metals and many stones.
The cold drops of their natural humidity
Are shed sometimes as the tears of our history
- they speak quietly of past injustices.
From ancient times, we have raised stones for
our people’s experiences – stones for lost lives in human struggles.
From modern times, we have breathed
the blue dust of industrial indignity
and from the quarrying of many stones
have built strong memorials to our many memories.
Epstein dared to take the memory of an injustice
- a crucified God for a broken humanity,
and a faith based upon the rolling away of a stone
to define a belief by looking to its future
- the ascended Christ in majesty and hope.
He dared to take the injustice
of the twisted metals of a bombed sanctuary
to create a host of angels;
and the crushed stones of our modern concrete
to raise our eyes beyond the familiar.
This Christ in majesty is transformed
and there are no tears in his kingdom.
He looks through a high window
for the heralding of a new heaven and a new earth
and the dawning of a new day.
Epstein’s ‘act of faith’ was controversial.
It dared to challenge the confines of our cultural norms
and the limits of our imagination.
We may not share his vision, but we dare today to imagine
- to take the rich and varied stones of our history
- to seek justice and wholeness
and in a rare moment of transformation
to build anew’.