GOLD ROBES

Today it’s the turn of the Thanksgiving Service at St Paul’s. Her Majesty can’t be there, so like the rest of us she’s watching from home.

St Paul’s is one of my favourite places in London I think. There’s something about the grandness of its dome, the huge stone columns and checkerboard floor. Today it’s packed with politicians, dignitaries, priests, bishops, choristers, soldiers and the Royal Family, celebrating before God, the 70 years of Elizabeth II’s reign.

The Archbishop of York gave the address, dressed in his traditional white and gold robes. He was wonderful, reminding us that Jesus can be leaned upon, that the Queen herself has been a constant as she’s followed Jesus all these years.

The camera panned round the various royals. I’m always fascinated to see people’s faces during sermons. If you’re the preacher, it can be disconcerting to see a sea of stony faces, and you have to sort of assume that they’re just listening intently. Actually, they often are. The Archbishop made some of them laugh, which was very well done - but I couldn’t help wonder exactly what they were thinking.

Charles looked serious. His mouth was downturned as though he was carrying a weight. William and Kate were focused and serious, and the Wessexes enjoyed the Archbishop talking about how much the Queen likes horses.

I wonder whether, at things like this there’s an element of formality that obscures the power of what’s actually being talked about. Of course the Archbishop of York is telling us about Jesus; he’s wearing the costume! And he’s wearing it in this grand theatre! People who dress up like that and stand on the stage here are expected to tell us about Jesus, about God who loves us, and how our lives can be better with him than without. Perhaps if we all just listen intently it’ll all be over and we can go for lunch.

I wonder then, if the Archbishop, or any of those assembled clergy, were to talk about Jesus in the same way over coffee, at the pub, in jeans and slacks, would it be so tolerated? Or would it be like an actor delivering chunks of Hamlet in the middle of Starbucks?

It’s not just the gold embossed bishops in St Paul’s though is it? Even in our more informal churches, a sermon can be tolerated because it’s delivered in a certain context. I find it interesting to think about our traditions, even the small ones we don’t usually notice.

Perhaps we should be taking what we hear at St Paul’s, or on Sundays, and using it to spring board into conversations of our own? After all, we can’t all wear gold robes but the truth is nevertheless the truth.