By Revd Philip Wales
Over the summer, I enjoyed, as many of us did, some holiday time with family and friends. But sooner than I would wish, the once vivid memories of my jaunts are already starting to fade. They are being crowded out by the new season’s priorities and my attention is being directed to what lies ahead.
Still, a visit to my native Cumbria in July stands out because of a long-planned visit to Whitehaven. The historic port town was my childhood home for several years until my family moved to Carlisle. My trip included a pilgrimage to St. Nicholas’ Church, where my siblings and I were each baptised. Sadly, much of the church [built from Egremont red sandstone] was destroyed by fire on 31 August 1971. After the fire had been damped down it was hoped that the church would be fully restored, but its custodians back then opted for a different course of action. Instead of rebuilding it, they decided to make good the bell tower, which, together with the north and south transepts, had largely avoided significant damage. The ground on which the nave once stood was preserved, and the verdant gardens have been lovingly cared for ever since. The town’s parish church, once an architectural centrepiece and a source of civic pride, was eventually rededicated as a chapel and administrative centre.
Memories of that church’s very dramatic change of fortune have stayed with me throughout my life. And so, going back there was especially evocative. I was reminded once again that returning to such personally significant places never leaves us untouched: revisiting, and remembering, continually reshapes who we are, and so, who we are becoming. The loss, or perhaps I should say, the transformation of St. Nicholas’ Church is a very personal touchstone. Churches, indeed, any building, can project an image of being permanent, particularly to a small child. But they are, of course, impermanent and, in their own way, very fragile. For me, this recent experience is, in part, what makes Exeter Cathedral’s very different story of longevity and renewal all the more remarkable.
In a little over a week we will mark, God willing, a very significant moment in the life of Christian witness and worship in Devon. In 1050, Bishop Leofric, in the presence of King Edward the Confessor, established the cathedral church of St Peter here in Exeter. At Evensong on September 21st, all are very welcome to attend a special service. We shall be giving thanks to God for the Cathedral, the mother church of the diocese, as it approaches 1000 years (975 to be exact). We shall also celebrate the successful completion of the Cathedral’s development project. This has brought about many practical and aesthetic enhancements. Our Cathedral is now more visitor-friendly in a number of significant ways, some of them very obvious, others less immediately apparent.
Many words have been written, and will continue to be written, about Exeter Cathedral, a wonderful, magnificent, sacred building. But such words only come alive, are given meaning and purpose, through the lives of all of the people, living and departed, who have a connection, however close or distant with it, whether they believe in God or not. The Cathedral, in a sense, lives through the people who gather in it, or around it, in various ways: those who come to pray, to sing, serve, visit, as well as those who care for its fabric and its future. Churches are buildings which, in the end, say ‘life is not only about us’ but rather, ‘here you’ll find, meet and, if you are willing, be transformed through God’s love for His world, for us, for you’. The life of the Cathedral points not to the human activity which goes within its walls for its own sake. Vital though all this is, all these activities are signs and pointers to the living mystery of God’s life with us, given for us in Jesus and shared with us now and in the future, for all eternity.