Dedication Festival (Hebrews 12.18-24; Matthew 21.12-16)
– Catherine Gibson
‘You have come to . . . the heavenly Jerusalem . . .
and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.’
For the 110th anniversary of the dedication of this church, special celebrations were held which included guided tours with the title, “What St Margaret’s means to me.” I imagine those of us who have been members of this congregation for some time would each have the material for such a tour. To encourage you to think about your own recollections, I’ll give you one or two of mine.
In the mid-nineteen seventies I began working at Ilkley College, based in and around Wells House, just next door up the hill. In my lunch breaks I would sometimes come and sit in the church, hoping that it would reveal something of God to me. In those days the building was only illumined by natural daylight outside service-times, and maybe I only came in on grey days, but my impressions of it were rather bleak. It seemed to withhold from me anything it might have conveyed – which was tantalising.
About twenty years later, after I had been a regular worshipper here for a number of years, when things were happening that were drawing me towards a deeper commitment, I discovered that I’d left my gloves behind after Sunday morning’s service, and decided to pop in on the Monday evening on my way home from work. It was a misty November twilight, and these days I wasn’t in the habit of coming into the church outside service-times: but my lost gloves had given me a reason and I felt some excitement. The big north doors were kept locked much of the time; and the entrance was through a small door in the west side of the porch, which made the enterprise feel rather risky and daring, and meant that you entered the church facing west.
My eyes were drawn first to the baptistery, where the font was warmly lit from above. After the rather forbidding exterior, the interior of the building seemed inviting. As I moved further inside, the next thing I noticed, looking eastwards, was the statue of Our Lady, with the pricket-stand in front, on which a burning candle told me that someone had been praying here recently. In between these pools of light, the nave was lost in obscurity: but Christ on the rood-screen seemed to hold out his arms in welcome; and beyond, the chancel flooded with warm lamplight and the glorious golden reredos seemed like a glimpse of heaven. I tore myself away at last, carrying with me a deep sense of joy and yearning and acceptance that drew me a step further in my spiritual development.
The aloofness, somewhat judgmental, that I had felt in those early visits, contrasting with the hospitality and limitless possibilities sensed in this later one, finds a parallel in our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews.
The writer of the Letter encourages his readers in their Christian faith by comparing the Old and New Covenants represented by two mountains: Sinai and Zion. The Old Covenant is that of the Law, originally given to Moses in the form of the Ten Commandments (and of course, subsequently developed into many more specific laws). When Moses ascended Sinai to receive the Law, the mountain blazed and smoked like a volcano and a terrifying voice came from it, forbidding the people and even the animals to approach it. This is an image of awesome and unattainable holiness.
By contrast, Mount Zion represents the New Covenant, a holiness which is healing and welcoming. Mount Zion is an image of the New Jerusalem, the heavenly city where those who have been transformed and been made perfect through grace live with God. The angels are gathered to celebrate the achievement of Jesus, who has made it possible for humans to come to that holiness – that wholeness and full humanity – which was unattainable through the Law.
The writer does not merely describe this as something in the future. He says that, in a sense, those who live by faith and hope have already arrived at the heavenly city. They are already welcome there. When they pray and worship, they are already doing so as part of that glorious celebration before God’s throne. May our prayer and worship always reflect this wonderful reality!