Dedication Festival
A Sermon preached by the Precentor, Canon Anna Macham
Sunday 27 September 2026
Psalm 122, Hebrews 12: 18-24 and Matthew 21: 12-16
A couple of years back, when doing repairs on the ancient Close walls that surround this Cathedral and its grounds, the works department here discovered within the walls a few of the original decorative stones from Old Sarum, the site just up the road where the original Sarum Cathedral that preceded this one once stood. It’s interesting to think that when this Cathedral was re-built, 800 odd years ago in 1220, that material was re-used.
Increasingly, the most impressive buildings of our time use recycled products. The Shard, the tallest building in Western Europe set just back from London’s south bank, used 140,000 blocks made of sand, graded wood particles and cement that contained over 50% recycled material when it was constructed in the years leading up to 2012. We think of this as innovative, a new and responsible practice of our eco-conscious times- a response to the consumerist, materialistic culture of modernity of the decades and centuries that went immediately before us, that new, state of the art skyscrapers today are built to enhance sustainability and reduce environmental impact.
But the history of this Cathedral shows that our medieval forbears already had the idea of recycling. They felt the need to conserve their materials- even if the idea of a climate crisis, or modern consumerism or waste or pollution would have been completely alien to them.
In a throw-away society, where we tend to use items once only, the existence of stones within this complex that were first fashioned and used even more than 800 years is something quite awesome to think of. The fact that they are recycled and reused doesn’t downgrade them, but makes them even more special. It wasn’t just a pragmatic choice of those early stone masons when they came to build this Cathedral of New Sarum to do this, reflecting a quaint pleasure they might have taken in assemblage and bricolage. In choosing these decorative stones, they were, most likely, thinking of the value they could add to their brand-new Cathedral by injecting a little of the past into it.
The stones of this building are precious. The beauty of ancient places of worship such as this one, and their significance of to us and to our lives, is acknowledged in our readings today, and in our solemn liturgy and music. Psalm 122 is one of the most beautiful in the whole psalter. It’s a pilgrim song; it could have been sung when the pilgrims singing it had just arrived in Jerusalem, or when they were about to leave after the festival. Its speaker dreams of a time when he will be reacquainted with the city, and prays for its welfare and stability.
“I was glad when they said unto me: We will go into the house of the Lord”. This song expresses great joy. Many of us know it in Hubert Parry’s famous choral setting; perhaps we associate this psalm with special times we’ve spent in glorious buildings such as this one, or memorable occasions we’ve shared. The psalmist is very excited because to visit the Jerusalem Temple is to embark on the trip of a lifetime. For him, this is more than just a National Trust property with some interesting works of religious art. The Temple in Jerusalem was where God dwelt.
The Hebrews had been a wandering people, pitching their tents throughout their journey. When it says, “Jerusalem is built as a city: that is at unity in itself”, one way of translating the latter part of that is “carefully bound together”. This relates to the language used for putting up a tent: binding the canvas together. The speaker’s pilgrimage up to Jerusalem is a holy journey, with the presence of God as the end point. The very last stage of the journey is the walk through Jerusalem to the Temple, next to which, as we heard in verse 5 of the psalm, stood the royal palace of King David. Royalty and justice were bound together in one place, where both the earthly and the divine king lived.
If you look up Psalm 122 in the bible, its subtitle is “A Song of Ascents”. The people “go up” to give praise to God. We talk about “going up” to big cities or important places, even to university. Or it could be about our growth and development, “going up to senior school” or “going up in the world”.
But what does it mean to talk about pilgrims “going up” to the House of God? This language of ascents might make us think of the angels of God ascending and descending on Jacob’s ladder in Genesis, or incense that symbolises the ascent of the prayers of the faithful to heaven, or even Jesus himself ascending into heaven. Ascending is heavenly; later in this Eucharist, we ascend spiritually when we “lift up our hearts” at the start of the Eucharistic Prayer. Holy places like this one, hallowed by centuries of prayer, invite us to look up, to turn our thoughts towards the eternal and transcendent in our midst; situating our hopes and fears within the redemptive purposes of God in Christ, and recasting our prayers from an act of despair into one of hope.  Here we bring our thoughts and concerns, our dreams and aspirations, the prayers we hardly dare name out loud, and place them in God’s hands.
In a few moments, Cordelia will be baptised, and we pray for her alongside her parents today at this significant moment in her life, giving thanks for all that she is and all that she will become. In today’s Gospel, Jesus defends the holiness and sanctity of the Temple, asserting its true purpose which is the worship of God. Yet in doing so, he also relocates the Temple in his very self- only he can make the sacrifice necessary to restore the holiness that is at the heart of its life. In dying and rising with Christ in the waters of baptism, Cordelia and all the baptised are given the potential to be like Christ, to share in his great love for us and for the world in whatever unique way Cordelia will grow up to do that.
Because of course, the Church we celebrate and give thanks for on this Dedication Sunday isn’t just about stones. It’s about people- “living stones” as our Collect put it. As Cordelia grows up, she will need the help and guidance of those around her, supporting her as she grows in faith and to maturity. Today we give thanks for those who built this place, and those who maintain it today, whose skill uncovers ancient treasures. We give thanks for who have gone before us, those saints and pillars of the Church whose lives have inspired and energised us, and those here today whose love inspires and helps us still. It’s not just the “official” saints who’ve helped shape us into being the people that we are, but those with whom we share our lives, including in the wider church community. Our faith bears the imprint of those Christians who have inspired us, challenged us, encouraged us, and been patient with us- “living stones”- whose lives have mediated Christ to us.
On this Feast of the Dedication, then, we give thanks that God is here, present within these walls though not constrained by them; as we bring our hopes for ourselves and our loved ones, our dreams for justice and peace for our Church and for our broken and suffering world.
Today we give thanks for the precious gifts of the past, for many centuries of worship and witness in this place. To celebrate the things of the past is to commit ourselves anew to recognising God’s presence among us now, and letting God shape and guide us in the present, as he forms us by his Spirit into a people clothed with Christ through whom his love is made visible.