“The Body of Christ at St. Giles: History and Immediacy”

(Hebrews 12:1-2 and Luke 1:46-55)

          Some of you will remember a conversation here a few years ago that began with the question: When you get to heaven, what kind of music will greet you there?  It was early in the life of our merging congregation, and provided a good way to get at the kinds of music that spoke most powerfully to each of us.  Some of us shared a particular song (mine was that one from the movie “Keeping the Faith,” when a gospel choir bursts into the synagogue singing a Hebrew song of praise. If you’re taking requests, St. Peter, that’d be mine). Some focused instead on an instrument, and some lifted up a musical style. Given the splendid diversity of our church, in a room of a dozen or so people we had everything from organ to jazz saxophone, everything from classic Bach to classic rock meeting us at those pearly gates.

          One of the things our family loved about visiting St. Giles Church in Scotland this summer was their take on this same question.  What kind of music will greet us when we get to heaven?  Isn’t it obvious?  (first slide-bagpipe angel) The angels will be playing bagpipes!  One of many signs that this historic congregation takes pride in its rich national heritage.

          I promised before we left on sabbatical that we would bring back for you stories of what the body of Christ is up to in other parts of the world.  This morning we invite you to travel with us to Edinburgh, Scotland (next slide – exterior of St. Giles), to the High Kirk, or church, of St. Giles, mother church of Presbyterians around the world.

          For those of us who live in the Northwest, where businesses proudly advertise they’ve been “serving you since 1989,” it offers a healthy dose of perspective just to walk into a building first consecrated by the bishop in 1243, all the more so when the community of faith has actually been worshipping on that same site since 854.  Nearly 1200 years. A great cloud of witnesses indeed.

          That rich heritage of faith greets you the moment you walk in the doors (next slide – interior of St. Giles), first soaking in the magnificent stone architecture of the building as a whole, and then, as you poke around, getting a better sense of how the whole thing came together in a glorious hodgepodge.  Within the 12^th century structure are housed several smaller memorial chapels from the 18^th and 19^th centuries, and an incredible new organ stands directly across the center of the church from a statue of the 16^th century hero of the Scottish Reformation, John Knox.

We had the privilege of meeting Pastor Knox in person while we were there (slide of girls with statue). He was quite the preacher in his day.  In fact, a famous quote about him is set in the middle of a contemporary collage of photographs near the main entrance of St. Giles, and it reads: “I assure you that the voice of this one man, John Knox, is able in one hour to put more life in us than 500 trumpets continually blasting in our ear.” Well, to each is given particular gifts for the good of the body, as they say.

          Such a historic place.

          Such a significant place politically for the Church of Scotland too.  It was explained to us that St. Giles, though it looks like a cathedral, is not appropriately called a cathedral because since the Reformation the Church of Scotland has not had bishops.  And once the Protestant Reformation took hold at St. Giles, it really took hold.  It was fun to show Ken and the girls that our own family has a plaque in St. Giles, right on one of the big pillars near the front of the church.  My family name is Hannay, and the plaque reads: "To James Hannay DD, Dean of this Cathedral 1634 - 1639. He was the first and last who read the service book in this church. This memorial is erected in happier times by his descendant."  If you get the sense that something is being left unsaid there, you are correct.  It seems that roughly a century after John Knox, a service book (or prayer book) was felt to be a little too close for comfort to the older Roman Catholic form of worship.  So the Protestants of St. Giles felt led to protest once again. A woman named Jenny Geddes famously yelled something at my ancestor along the lines of “You’ll never use that in my church,” then picked up the stool she was sitting on (pews came later) and chucked it at the minister’s head!  I never did find out if Ms. Geddes hit her mark – but I did see an old cartoon illustrating the event, complete with numerous stools flying through the air toward the pulpit.  (Don’t get any ideas…)  At any rate, it sounds like poor Uncle James didn’t make that same mistake twice.

The significance of St. Giles, its prestige among Scottish churches, continues to this day, as a special place is reserved for a special someone when she comes to worship (slide of Queen Elizabeth), though we’re told the Queen doesn’t mind if others borrow her chair for just a moment when she’s not in town (slides of Alina, Rebecca in Queen’s chair).  The church – state interplay is really quite interesting here.  It was made very clear to us that the Queen is not head of the Church of Scotland, as she is of the Church of England.  But her presence is warmly welcomed here.  In fact, one of the most spectacular parts of St. Giles is a chapel created for the Knights of the Thistle, a royal order of great distinction in Scotland. (slide of Thistle Chapel) Just imagine the honor it would be to have your family crest emblazoned on one of these stalls (slide of individual stalls in Thistle Chapel).

          What must the congregation of St. Giles be like, we wondered?  With several hundred members, certainly there would be a demographic mix, but at least some of these people are going to be old money families of Edinburgh. I wonder how many members of Scottish Parliament worship at St. Giles (the new Parliament building is just down the street).  And how about those Knights of the Thistle?  Ministers at St. Giles probably play a role a bit like the Old Testament prophet Isaiah, who lived and worked in the royal court. Speaking from a position of privilege and status themselves, as they address those in power.

At any rate, with its rich history and glorious facility and prestigious status, St. Giles in many ways offers just the sort of worship service you would expect.  Traditional worship in its very best sense.  Beautiful older hymns. Elegant wording for the prayers. The choir wearing early medieval looking robes as they process throughout the sanctuary, their voices and the tones of the enormous organ carrying magnificently through the stone walls. Again, you feel surrounded, as you worship, by that great cloud of witnesses that has gone before.

          All was just as we expected, really.  And given the context, we settled ourselves in for a regular, traditional sermon.  Then the very dignified clergy member stepped up, and she (yes!) stood in John Knox’s pulpit and opened her mouth to preach … and let me tell you, this church’s rich history of prophetic preaching is not in the past.  We heard that morning one of the most powerful sermons on social justice we heard anywhere in all our travels this summer. The Rev. Dr. Hilary Smith, assistant minister of St. Giles, called it just like she saw it.  People of God, she took it all on.  From President Bush and the war in Iraq to outrageous inequities in the distribution of food and water across the world, to the unwillingness of wealthy nations to relieve third world debt.  How dare we, she said, reverse the words of Mary’s song?  How dare we deceive ourselves into thinking it’s the lowly who should be brought down, and the powerful lifted up?  That the rich should be filled with good things, and the hungry sent away empty?  We who are people of power and wealth and privilege in this world -how dare we?

John Knox wasn’t known for being a fan of women’s leadership in the church.  But there in his church that day, “I assure you that the voice of this one [woman]… was able in one hour to put more life in us” than any old trumpet blast.

          And you know, once I finally wiped the thrilled grin off my face and thought about it, it made perfect sense. St. Giles doesn’t celebrate its past for its own sake.  All of the visuals that surrounded us that morning – the plaques and the pillars, the stained glass window tributes, reminders everywhere of women and men of faith through the ages—all of that heroic history still infuses the place.  The substance of what the great cloud of witnesses has stood for in the past continues to inspire their ministry today.  The current congregation of St. Giles witnesses powerfully to those same great teachings of the 16^th century Reformation: Preaching Christ.  Preaching Grace.  Soaking and breathing and living in the challenging words of Scripture.  And remembering to be reformed by God’s Spirit in every age.

          A final example of this interplay at St. Giles between history and immediacy struck me as we celebrated communion that morning.  Again, here’s the magnificent sanctuary we’re talking about (second slide of interior), so while I was looking forward to celebrating the Lord’s Supper in that beautiful space, I had no expectations of the kind of family sense we have in smaller churches when we celebrate communion.  Figured I’d probably be meditating on one of the amazing stained glass windows as the choir sang a classic anthem. 

What a surprise, then, to be invited to surround the table together (slide of Lord’s Table) and pass the elements quietly around the circle to one another.  “The body of Christ for you,” said the distinguished woman on my right as she passed the bread to me, and “the body of Christ for you,” I said to Alina, and she to Ken, and he to Rebecca, and she to my mom. It was also touching to have that same longtime member of St. Giles who had just passed me the bread and the cup put her hand on my arm and engage me in whispered conversation about my broken foot on the way back to our pews: “I hope it doesn’t hurt terribly much. I slipped on the steps here just last Sunday so I know what a scare that can be.”

          Just a quiet moment of connection, of being right there with one another as one body, around the Lord’s Table.  More alike than we were different.  More at one, than on our own.

          Such simple things, really.  Sharing the gospel.  Sharing the bread and the cup.  Looking out for one another’s wounds.

They happen in Christ’s body everywhere, every week.

(back to slide of St. Giles exterior). 

Thanks be to God for the great cloud of witnesses that have gone before us in faith, and for those who run the race alongside us halfway around the world, and for those who surround us even now.  Amen.