Vicar’s sermon. Patronal Festival 2025

On the shelf next to my desk are a whole range of books: this is where, close to hand, I keep all my service books, prayer books and hymn books. The smallest of these was given to me on January 7th 1976 by my parents. My dad has written the date inside the front cover: the book was a gift to mark my baptism by Bishop John Eastaugh in Hereford Cathedral – it is a leather-bound copy of the Book of Common Prayer.
The Book of Common prayer contains a lot of prayers and services. It also contains a lectionary – a list of bible readings set for each day of the year. Alongside this there is a table of Feast Days and a calendar. All these ‘bits and pieces’ from almost 500 years ago have played their part in bringing us to today as we celebrate our Patronal Festival. September 8th is one of the feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary. (We’ve moved the celebration a day earlier to allow you to be here). September 8th features in the calendar of the Book of Common Prayer. It is connected to December 8th – the day when last year + Sarah came to dedicate our porch windows. December 8th is 3 months hence. But the distance from December to September is, of therefore of course, nine months. So the connection is that December 8th marks the conception of the Virgin Mary, and today we give thanks for her birth. Both days feature in the calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which is remarkable.
Remarkable because on the surface, these dates are bizarre. How incredible that, in the full throws of the Reformation (as Protestant and Roman Catholic Christians were taking chunks out of each other as they battled for the soul of the church), these two feasts should be retained in the church calendar. How astounding it is that, as devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary was seen as coming close to idolatry, the great Reformer Thomas Cranmer and his colleagues (men who put the Prayer Book together) kept these dates in our calendar whilst sweeping away so many others. Today’s feast marks Mary’s birth: we all mark birthdays in some way so today’s date makes some sort of sense: we can get our heads around it: the birth of someone who is important. But (and how can I put this delicately?) the December date, celebrates a moment when Mary ‘s parents cuddled up in bed, made love and conceived their daughter – that has to be somewhat strange doesn’t it, a thought that comes with its own ik factor – and yet Thomas Cranmer offered us the date of Mary’s conception as a date for contemplation.
What do we do with these feasts of the Virgin? Her other feasts – the annunciation, her visitation to see Elizabeth, and those associated with Christ’s birth – they more readily connect themselves to Jesus’ story. Mary’s ‘yes’ to the angel’s message, her song as Elizabeth’s unborn child recognises Jesus in Mary’s womb, the Nativity and the visit of the wise men, the presentation of Jesus in the Temple – these feasts all hinge around Mary’s part in Jesus’ story. He is the focus, not her. Yet we are also encouraged to mark her conception and birth? There is, as yet, no Jesus. Just Anne and Joachim: a married couple living in Israel… we know not where.
It seems that one of the messages of these feasts is that God is at work beneath and within his creation in unseen ways. He is ‘the hidden God’. We sort of know it but can’t quite believe it. It seems so obvious as we read the gospels that God is at work in and through Jesus except God’s work wasn’t obvious to everyone, and Jesus’ ministry took place in the backend of Israel away from any places anyone with any influence had ever heard of. Hidden. There’s a hint of the hiddenness of God’s action in our exceptionally short New Testament reading in the phrase ‘when the fulness of time had come’. The apostle seems to say that Jesus’ birth marked a coming together of the purposes of God. One thing leading to another… the freedom of creation resonating with God’s desire to reveal Himself in human form. His birth both utterly remarkable but astoundingly ordinary.
A second thought might be that as we mark Mary’s birth we’re gently being reminded of the role of parents and grandparents in the care and upbringing of children. Reminded, lest we forget that God works through our humanity, through those around us who show us how to love, those who teach us and care for us: through (we might hope) our families. Our Catholic brothers and sisters are better at this then we -Joseph and the Holy Family more readily find a place in Catholic devotion – but for those of you who exercise a ministry of childcare for your grandchildren (and don’t you know it as the summer holidays have ended) take heart. This day is for you. No Anna, no Mary. No Mary no Jesus. You will never know all the ways that your love, care and example will influence your grandchildren. And should your family live at a distance or perhaps you don’t see your grandchildren as much as you might wish, do not despair: that heartache for them no doubt makes your prayer for them more profound and today’s’= feast says that the hidden God can work with that prayer: powerfully.
Finally, the birth of Mary, points us towards having a concern for those who are vulnerable, perhaps especially women and children. Back in the Book of Common prayer the litany finds a place to pray for ‘women labouring with child’. In the modern form of the same prayer we pray ‘Bring your joy into all families; strengthen and deliver those in childbirth, watch over children and guide the young, bring reconciliation to those in discord and peace to those in stress.’ Our faith here steps out of a disembodied heaven and becomes utterly incarnational. Our prayer here echoes God’s concern for real people who live in real families, some under great strain. We pray for women facing the ordeal and dangers of childbirth, and we pray for parents and children (not all of whom live with the security and support that we know and enjoy). And what is the prayer? It is that God’s presence would be known in childbirth: whether that takes place in a fully equipped maternity unit, at home or far from home, in a hospital or in a war zone or refugee camp. It is a prayer for all whose work surrounds the care and upbringing of children. Today is a day for remembering midwives and paediatricians, nurseries and toddler groups, child minders, Special Needs staff and Health Visitors. And it is a prayer for family life. Most people spend most of their time with their families: family life is where we can learn the ways of God, grow in love and care and forgiveness and grace. All families need prayer and people who, through prayer will open up a space for God to work within them.
My summer holiday in France is fast receding into the memory but I’m put in mind of the fact that every French church building finds space for prayers to be said in a Lady Chapel or in a side chapel dedicated to St Anne (Mary’s mother). And almost without exception, in just about every church we entered, it is these parts of the church building which are the most visited by those who come into church to pray: it is here that candles have been lit or prayers written and left before God. Why? I can only guess but my guess is that in these places, with the examples of Mary, Joseph, Anne and Joachim close to hand portrayed in sculpture or in great dark paintings that have seen better days this is where people feel most able to pray for those closest to them – they pray for their families, their parents, children and grandchildren encouraged by the fact that Jesus knew the love of his family.
And so we pray:
God of compassion,
whose Son Jesus Christ, the child of Mary,
shared the life of a home in Nazareth,
and on the cross drew the whole human family to himself:
strengthen us in our daily living
that in joy and in sorrow
we may know the power of your presence
to bind together and to heal;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.