The Very Rev. Ian S. Markham, Ph.D. Dean and President, Virginia Theological Seminary

Start of Semester Sermon – Spring 2018 Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14, 2 Corinthians 5: 17-20, Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

For the Jewish people in exile in Babylon, there is a deep sense of hopelessness descending. Jerusalem had fallen; the House of Israel is afraid; how does Ezekiel – the priest prophet address this moment?

And so we have this powerful vision. A vision that is inevitably shocking with all the connotations of ritual impurity being implied by the scene of dry bones. Yet as the vision unfolds, the shock becomes a source of hope. The hope lies in the very breath of God – the Spirit of God – that can transform the situation of death.

A vision provides hope to the Jewish people in Babylon. So we trust this Chapel provides to the people of God in our increasingly secular age. And slowly the pieces of this chapel are coming together – the parts forming a deep symbolism. It is a Christocentric chapel in many ways – the Icon of the Incarnation hanging in the ambulatory, the Alpha and the Omega inscribed in the organ woodwork, the four Gospel symbols captured in the ambo, the stations of the cross marked with simplicity around the edge of the chapel, and on the way in you walk near the sculpture of the prophet Mary, as she carries the Christ child. It is a Communion chapel – with the Cross of Nails linking us with the reconciliation work of Coventry Cathedral and with a stone from Canterbury Cathedral right in the middle of the altar.

And the Christocentric and Communion Chapel is now supplemented with the celebration of the Trinity in these remarkable pieces of art that grace the space as our windows.

Brian Clarke is the artist. Brian Clarke often described as the “rock star of stained glass”. After all, Paul McCartney is a fan and the controversial artist Francis Bacon (not to be confused by the 16th century philosopher) asked him to take care of his estate. He is much loved by architects, partly because of his own architectural training and partly because he works hard to harmonize art with the building. He is the designer who took stain glass making out of churches and into conference centers and shopping malls. He is truly global in the reach of his art, with his work found in diverse global settings from the Pyramid of Peace in Kazakhstan, the Pfizer building in Manhattan, at a Holocaust memorial, as well as countries like Germany, Brazil, Saudi Arabia, and now Virginia Theological Seminary.

And so we now have these windows. In the north transept, we have the famous Brian Clarke Oak Leaves. The Oak is, according to the 2004 vote of the Congress, American’s National Tree. It is a symbol of strength, of eternity, of might. For this chapel, these leaves combine with the organ, where the wood used in that organ comes from the Oak Trees that had to come down to build this chapel. The Oak tree is magisterial. In those leaves, we see creation. We are invited to see the work of the Father – the genesis, creator of all that is.

Hovering over the font in the west transept, we have the dove. There is a cinematic feel to the image. This is the Holy Spirit in motion. It is nestled underneath the iconic words of this chapel “Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel”. This is a Holy Spirit of movement, of agency, of power. We are being drawn into the dance. We have places to go and things to do. We have to get on board with the Spirit.

And then finally, we come to the most abstract of the three. It is the first example in stained glass making of transillumination (normally a term from medicine where the transmission of light brings illumination). In an Episcopal Seminary, connected to the Anglican Communion, with an obligation to preach the Gospel, we have in this window the good news of the light of Christ – the Son, as captured in the parable of the Sower, that comes to us through Canterbury Cathedral in its distinctive Anglican form, to the United States. And how is all that captured in this window.

On a rare sunny day in England, Canterbury Cathedral is a blaze of color because the sunlight is shining through the stained glass windows, casting he images of those windows on the floor of the cathedral. The light is refracted on to the ground. The image created by this light has been captured in this stained glass window. The window chosen is the parable of the sower window. It is this image from the Cathedral as refracted on the ground that captures the work of the Son in our south transept window.

The readers of Matthew’s Gospel were all too aware of the challenge of kingdom. As the message of God’s rule – a rule of love and justice – is shared, the result is very varied. We are constantly trusting that the seed will land in the good soil. Thanks to the miracle of grace, the Kingdom message has resonated down the ages. The light of Christ has shone brightly. The message of the call, invitation, and challenge of the kingdom is present in this place. From the parable, to the medieval artist who created a stained glass in Canterbury Cathedral, to a Seminary in the United States that receives the message afresh in our window in our south transept. It is our turn to take the light of Christ that comes via Canterbury to the rest of the world. All this in one window.

God gave Ezekiel a vision. This was a vision of hope amid the hopelessness of his time. As we struggle against what often seems overwhelming sociological and secularizing forces of resistance, may this Chapel be our vision of hope. And may these windows constantly remind us of the obligation and gift of this moment, which is simply this: to preach the Christ of the Triune God to a world that needs the invitation and promise of love.

Amen.