SERMON for the SECOND SUNDAY of the YEAR (A) 2008

'The Presence'

'It's a bit like the elephant in the room', Karen Rann said to me referring to her work Presence which is with us this morning in the Cathedral. Well, I'm not in the habit of having any elephants in the same room personally, but I suppose I see what she means! You can't ignore it - and if you do, then at some point you will get yourself entangled.

We'll all have our particular interpretations of what Karen has given us - and of what Finn MacRae has also given us in the shape of his challenging photography visible on the inside and the outside of the Cathedral door. And I don't want to suggest for a moment that what I am going to say this morning is any possible sense definitive. One of the joys of having a work of art around is that it invites you to contemplate and enter its mystery - and nothing should stop you doing that, least of all the ramblings of the Provost. But I would like to share a few thoughts with you as I have experienced living with Presence during the past week, as well as seeing the impact which it makes upon those who have come to see it. In doing that, I realise from an artist's viewpoint, I'm doing something a bit dangerous, or even just plain odd.

Now I'm quite happy to be a bit odd, so if I tell you that what Presence suggests to me first of all is a cloud then your worst fears might be about to be fulfilled! But that's what my imagination sees. The word presence already begins that process in my mind and so what I see when I look at the work is a cloud. It reminds me of the cloud of God's presence that accompanied the Israelites on their 40 years' journey through the wilderness, a journey begun in Egypt the night that the Passover Lamb was slaughtered.

As members of the Church, we have to live with that same cloud of God's presence today. And it is not always very convenient for us, anymore than it was for the Israelites of old. The cloud of God's presence led them to some pretty unpleasant and uncompromising situations and they would have far rather been back in their slavery in Egypt. Living with the cloud of God's presence for us means that we, too, find ourselves wandering around, sometimes feeling quite lost (if your head is in a cloud its difficult to see the road ahead), sometimes resenting the inconveniences, the demands placed upon us of worship, of service, of mutual love, of taking a moral stance on issues, of adopting a certain kind of lifestyle.

Living with the imaginary cloud of the Presence in the Cathedral is a sharp physical reminder of this. For a start, it means we probably can't sit where we normally sit. We can sit at the front - and feel exposed. Or we can sit at the very back, but there's not so much room there as there usually is because we're all trying to get in to a smaller space! The imaginary cloud of the Presence forces us together and stops us escaping into isolation. Just as the cloud of the presence of God enveloped the people of Israel, and made them into a single nation, chosen for God's purposes. We are reminded that we are made to find our fulfilment in relationship (to God and to other people) and not in isolation. Even though that frequently means thrashing around in the damp mist of a cloud and not seeing clearly where we are or where we are supposed to be.

Karen's work is not - happily - a damp soggy mist (though the evening we processed here to its unveiling was a pretty wet one!). But Presence is about relationships. In thinking about spirituality, Karen has involved a huge number of people throughout Inverness (over 1300 messages are on the individual pieces of the artwork), and these people have each articulated something about a relationship which has meant a lot to them - the inner bits of the art have many messages about people who are or who have been very special to us.

And all of this is mysteriously caught up in the being of God, the cloud of presence with whom we live and in whom we have our being. Here is a message of profound Christian hope, appropriate as we celebrate the Eucharist together on the Sunday when we reflect on Jesus as the Lamb of God. What exactly was it about that phrase, that description of Jesus given him by John Baptist, that attracted our Patron Saint, Andrew, amongst others to Jesus? Like good art, the phrase probably made sense at a whole number of different levels - there was, in Aramaic, a colloquial expression which used the word for Lamb to describe a child, rather like in English we might describe a child as a kid. Later on, the prophetic symbolism of using the word with its sacrificial connotations would become much more clear and definitive for the early Christian community. Jesus becomes the Lamb of God - the final and ultimate Paschal Lamb whose dying and rising to new life reconciles humanity with God for ever.

So back to Presence and the invisible net of relationships that it makes tangible and visible here in this sacred space. Our human relationships are never fully what we would wish them to be - that's part of being human. Sometimes they are disrupted by death before we can say and do all that we would have wished to do. And that's an inevitable part of being human, too. But if we let ourselves and our relationships get caught up in the life of the Lamb of God (as we do every time we celebrate the Eucharist together) then there is hope for us, as we live with the cloud of the presence of God. Hope for the present - when we shall find grace in and through and for our human relationships. And for the future, too. In the risen future of Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who died and who rose from death. And in sharing his risen future, we shall discover the mystery that even death has no power to ultimately disrupt our relationships. With one another, or with God.

Canon Alex Gordon


ALISTER MACINNES, GRAPHIC DESIGNER
(Al was the designer for the project and was responsible for the elegant look of all publicity materials and it was his designs upon which this website is based)

The Other Side of Air caught my attention from the very beginning. My approach to the graphic design was to have a freshness and liberty, while trying to retain a sense of reverence & simplicity. One thing we were all keen to avoid was any traditional religious imagery - smoke can be extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world, while also symbolizing and giving reference to much deeper aspects of faith & worship. But for me, art and spirituality have always been intrinsically linked - I am not sure if it is simply due to my own personal Christian faith, my life long love for creativity, or my struggle from an early age to communicate in ways other than visually.

As a designer, there are a few elements of my faith that have a huge impact on my work, and in a truly Highland Kirk manner, this sermon has three points:

1. God is creative – from the opening verses of Genesis, to the final chapters of Revelation, God is working, creating and developing a plan for life with the most intricate detail and purpose. And amazingly the Bible says that we are made ‘in his image’ so, in our own wee way, by being creative, we are reflecting God. The longer I am involved in creativity the more I am aware of the spiritual dimensions to life – and the more I learn about God, the more I want to explore my creative potential.

2. Secondly, there is an obscure verse in the middle of a long historical bit in the Bible that simply says there were these two guys that God filled with his spirit so that they could create art works of extraordinary beauty – so our abilities as artists are God given (mind you, looking at my work sometimes makes me wonder if I am being punished!).

3. Thirdly, there is a great verse that talks about there being nothing new under the sun – it is always a relief to think that we do not need to come up with an idea that has never been thought before (How about that as an excuse – ‘Yea I know it has been done before, but God says it’s ok!’). We simply need to use our creativity to its full potential and enjoy it, responding to the gifts we are given.

Here endeth the lesson for today.