That's a question which, on a bad day, can seem to haunt the dreams of those whose ministry takes place in one...
Of course there are many many answers - from the strictly functional (the place where the bishop has his cathedra seat), through the aspirational (the mother church for the diocese, a place of resource and nurture for the whole diocesan family), the poetic (flag-ships of the spirit) with many another definition along the way.
My longing for ours is that it should be known as a place of unconditional welcome, where all who come, no matter what their tastes in music or worship styles, should feel at home and able to connect with the God whose beauty is the reason for all of it...
Sometimes we manage this better than others - but I rather think that in the past 24 hours we've not done badly.
It began, as Sundays often do, with the Cathedral Eucharist - at which I had the privilege of presiding.
Even before we started, as we waited in the north aisle, with incense clouding the air ahead, there was a sense of eager hope. The congregation was in good heart, and had turned out in some force, many even remembering to wear something red. The Baptism family were gathered (no mean feat when you're juggling twin toddlers as well as a 6 month old baby), the new Wardens all in place waiting to be commissioned, and even the 1st Communicants (whose view of time is somewhat elastic) were present and visible.
And - it felt as if we really were expecting something of God...who, of course, did not disappoint.
I may have felt a little guilty as we loaded our poor Wardens with badges and staffs - baggage representative of other burdens that the institution places upon them - but they are such splendid people that I mostly felt thankful and relieved.
In contrast, it was sheer joy to baptise little A. (though she would not say the same thing - and expressed her own views with passion), and to welcome the group of children who had been longing to take their place at the family table for so long. We moved from font to High Altar and when the organist began to play music from the Royal Fireworks, to match the clouds of smoke as I censed the altar (he's good that way - one day I really will be unable to stop the giggles), it was very hard not to grin like a maniac and sqeee loudly as I went on my way... God was SO present.
Presiding is, for me, the heart of my priesthood - and yesterday everything conspired to make it particularly wonderful. Tallis "Loquebantur", the delighted smiles of the children opening their hands for me to give them the Sacrament, the wonderful diversity of congregation which is part of Cathedral life.
God was in playful mood with others too. Over coffee I had several conversations reflecting the unsettling and inspiring work of the Spirit and was myself still purring when I headed home.
Later, of course, the Cathedral was filled with a new and different congregation - from all over the diocese and beyond, as we hosted the Beacon event for the Midlands. The worship could not have been a greater contrast to the morning's, but was equally effective in enabling encounters with God.
I had one confirmation candidate - and it was most definitely holy ground as I stood with him before the bishop (one of four confirming...which changed the dynamic entirely, and somehow made it feel MORE intimate and not less, as each candidate came up in turn to their confirming bishop, rather than the bishop moving along a line). While in the nave all was exuberant celebration, in the Chapel of Unity children worked with huge concentration, creating crowns of flames and paper plate doves - and covering as many surfaces as possible with glitter too. One small girl, retreating to a prayer pod, said that she was glad that there was somewhere quiet to think while "THEY" (gesturing to the nave) got on with being noisy :)....She also reminded me that the Holy Spirit could be as quiet as breath on a feather....I wonder if I will be around when she is old enough to be confirmed - her faith and friendship with God simply shone - a highlight of the day.
And then came Monday - the morning after the day before.
Ordinary Time, green and growing.
And I found myself presiding again - for a congregation of three, in the Lady Chapel.
And there God was again.
And I found myself reflecting on the way the disciples "spoke in different languages, as the Spirit gave them voice" - and on the different languages of worship we had spoken over one 24 hour period - and I hope and believe that in all that variety there was a space for everyone to find a home and a welcome.
Me, I'm being challenged and reminded that God WILL be there - bidden or not - expected or not...for this is, of course, HIS Cathedral, existing as a sign-post, a visual reminder of that transforming presence, that brings joy out of sadness and life out of death.
Of course there are many many answers - from the strictly functional (the place where the bishop has his cathedra seat), through the aspirational (the mother church for the diocese, a place of resource and nurture for the whole diocesan family), the poetic (flag-ships of the spirit) with many another definition along the way.
My longing for ours is that it should be known as a place of unconditional welcome, where all who come, no matter what their tastes in music or worship styles, should feel at home and able to connect with the God whose beauty is the reason for all of it...
Sometimes we manage this better than others - but I rather think that in the past 24 hours we've not done badly.
It began, as Sundays often do, with the Cathedral Eucharist - at which I had the privilege of presiding.
Even before we started, as we waited in the north aisle, with incense clouding the air ahead, there was a sense of eager hope. The congregation was in good heart, and had turned out in some force, many even remembering to wear something red. The Baptism family were gathered (no mean feat when you're juggling twin toddlers as well as a 6 month old baby), the new Wardens all in place waiting to be commissioned, and even the 1st Communicants (whose view of time is somewhat elastic) were present and visible.
And - it felt as if we really were expecting something of God...who, of course, did not disappoint.
I may have felt a little guilty as we loaded our poor Wardens with badges and staffs - baggage representative of other burdens that the institution places upon them - but they are such splendid people that I mostly felt thankful and relieved.
In contrast, it was sheer joy to baptise little A. (though she would not say the same thing - and expressed her own views with passion), and to welcome the group of children who had been longing to take their place at the family table for so long. We moved from font to High Altar and when the organist began to play music from the Royal Fireworks, to match the clouds of smoke as I censed the altar (he's good that way - one day I really will be unable to stop the giggles), it was very hard not to grin like a maniac and sqeee loudly as I went on my way... God was SO present.
Presiding is, for me, the heart of my priesthood - and yesterday everything conspired to make it particularly wonderful. Tallis "Loquebantur", the delighted smiles of the children opening their hands for me to give them the Sacrament, the wonderful diversity of congregation which is part of Cathedral life.
God was in playful mood with others too. Over coffee I had several conversations reflecting the unsettling and inspiring work of the Spirit and was myself still purring when I headed home.
Later, of course, the Cathedral was filled with a new and different congregation - from all over the diocese and beyond, as we hosted the Beacon event for the Midlands. The worship could not have been a greater contrast to the morning's, but was equally effective in enabling encounters with God.
I had one confirmation candidate - and it was most definitely holy ground as I stood with him before the bishop (one of four confirming...which changed the dynamic entirely, and somehow made it feel MORE intimate and not less, as each candidate came up in turn to their confirming bishop, rather than the bishop moving along a line). While in the nave all was exuberant celebration, in the Chapel of Unity children worked with huge concentration, creating crowns of flames and paper plate doves - and covering as many surfaces as possible with glitter too. One small girl, retreating to a prayer pod, said that she was glad that there was somewhere quiet to think while "THEY" (gesturing to the nave) got on with being noisy :)....She also reminded me that the Holy Spirit could be as quiet as breath on a feather....I wonder if I will be around when she is old enough to be confirmed - her faith and friendship with God simply shone - a highlight of the day.
And then came Monday - the morning after the day before.
Ordinary Time, green and growing.
And I found myself presiding again - for a congregation of three, in the Lady Chapel.
And there God was again.
And I found myself reflecting on the way the disciples "spoke in different languages, as the Spirit gave them voice" - and on the different languages of worship we had spoken over one 24 hour period - and I hope and believe that in all that variety there was a space for everyone to find a home and a welcome.
Me, I'm being challenged and reminded that God WILL be there - bidden or not - expected or not...for this is, of course, HIS Cathedral, existing as a sign-post, a visual reminder of that transforming presence, that brings joy out of sadness and life out of death.
1 comment:
How encouraging to read that God was so powerfully felt in the worship, regardless of the number of people in the congregation!
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