Sermon, 14 September 2024 – The Very Revd Dr Simon Jones

But what of the new Dean himself?  Is there a precedent for the likes of him?  Well, just in case anyone is worried about that, I’m glad to be able to tell you that there is, but you have to go back some time to find it.  To the year 1315, to be precise, when Henry Mansfield, Fellow of Merton, became Dean of Lincoln.

Mertonians here will know him well.  He’s the figure depicted no less than 24 times in the stained glass windows on the north and south sides of the College Chapel.

I mention this, not to sow the idea of how, with such a precedent, my Merton colleagues might like to memorialise this former fellow, now Dean of Lincoln (though I note that there’s still plenty of plain glass in the Ante-Chapel crying out to be filled); but rather because in each image Henry Mansfield is depicted kneeling either side of one of the apostles.

He kneels not only because he is in the presence of a premier division saint, one of first to respond to Christ’s call and, as such, one of God’s most holy ones; but also to remind those who look upon the windows that the space in which they are standing is also holy.

God said to Moses, ‘The place on which you are standing is holy ground’.

In the reading we heard a few moments ago, Moses finds himself unexpectedly standing on holy ground.  Leading his father-in-law’s flock to the foot of Mount Horeb, Moses catches a glimpse of what, at first sight, is nothing worthy of rubbernecking: a bush that’s on fire; a common sight in such an arid environment.

But then, staring at the fire with greater attention, Moses realises that there’s no precedent for what he sees.  This is unlike any desert fire he’s encountered before.  The bush is burning, but the fire isn’t consuming it.  Being drawn further into the mystery he’s stumbled upon, the visible miracle gives way to the even greater invisible one, as the God who has got Moses’ attention now addresses him by name and instructs him to remove his sandals, for ‘the place on which [he is] standing is holy ground’.

With its massive size, glorious architecture, rich history and the shrine of one of Europe’s great medieval saints, it’s not hard for Lincoln Cathedral to make a case for being holy ground.  For almost a thousand years, since William the Conqueror instructed Remigius to move here from Oxfordshire to found this house of prayer, God has been sought, and found and worshipped in this place.  Holiness is soaked into the ancient stones that surround us.  This place is holy because the God who reveals himself here is holy.

But this concept of holiness needs to be handled with care.  Often associated with perfection, holiness can evoke in human beings feelings of unworthiness, of fear and of failure. Think back to Moses’ first reaction to God’s self-revelation at the burning bush.  He hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.

Here today we need to acknowledge that it’s possible for our cathedrals to have the same effect.  This great landmark, visible for miles around, gives a sense of identity to this city and to Greater Lincolnshire – and that’s something to celebrate.  But it can also be perceived as ‘not for the likes of us’ – by reason of feeling not important enough, not good enough, religious enough, holy enough for this cathedral to be our cathedral.  And if that’s the case here and elsewhere, then the church needs to acknowledge some responsibility for that.  For our passion for emphasising great buildings like this as holy ground has often not been matched by a passion for proclaiming the holiness of every human being, holy as a result of being created in God’s image and likeness.

This place is holy, not only because the God who reveals himself here is holy, but also because the people God calls to meet him here are holy.  And, indeed, one of the most important tasks of this cathedral is to awaken in all who come through these ancient doors a sense of holiness: encountering the holy in this place, and no less importantly in one another; discovering that we and all people are created and called by God to be his icons, eternally and unconditionally loved by him, and of infinite value and worth.

God said to Moses, ‘The place on which you are standing is holy ground’.

But how can we refer to human beings as holy, when perfect is the last thing that any of us can claim to be?  Well, here again, I think this building can help us.  I love the irony in the fact that Lincoln’s famous imp sits in one of the most holy spaces in the cathedral, above the shrine of St Hugh.  Its location is a reminder that, even for the most devout and dedicated followers of Jesus, sin is never far away, but part of our human identity: sin against God, ourselves and others; sin against the environment, against society and our collective responsibility to work for the common good.  Sin is a reality, and we know that there are times in our individual and collective histories when its presence is more keenly and painfully felt than at others.  And yet, although our sinfulness may mask the divine image in each of us, it can never obliterate it, and that is cause for hope.  This cathedral is holy and we are holy, because we are called into relationship with a God who is holy – and nothing can change that.

The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, puts it like this: ‘A human being is holy not because he or she triumphs by will-power over chaos and guilt and leads a flawless life, but because that life shows the victory of God’s faithfulness in the midst of disorder and imperfection’.

For Christians the victory of God’s faithfulness is revealed first and foremost in the death and resurrection of Christ.  Today is the feast of the Holy Cross.  A good day for Mertonians, as it was on 14 September 1264 that the College was founded.  But it’s also a good day for the installation of a new Dean.  For the cross stands as a reminder to me and to all of us that to be called ‘holy’ by a holy God is not a Christian name, but a Christian vocation, a lifelong calling to be Christlike in love and worship and service.  This is our God-given mission as individuals.  And it is also the mission of this cathedral.

Thank God that none of us is called to do this on our own.  It is not a solitary pursuit.  It’s a mission to which members of this cathedral community, staff, volunteers and congregation, are called to share, and to be confident and joyful and generous in inviting others to join us.

For me, it is an enormous privilege to be called to lead you in this mission.  As I commit myself to serving this city and county and Diocese and Cathedral, may we all dedicate ourselves afresh to being attentive to, and to responding to, God’s holiness wherever we encounter it – in each other, in ourselves, and, not least, in the world outside these walls.  May the example of Christ and our worship of him inspire us to Christlike loving and sacrificial service.  And if we need a precedent to encourage us in this task, let us turn to the cross, in which the victory of God’s faithfulness and forgiveness is revealed and offered to all, here and now and in every time and place, that with Moses, St Hugh, Henry Mansfield, and the Lincoln Imp, we may walk together as God’s holy people on God’s holy ground.

God said to Moses, ‘The place on which you are standing is holy ground’.