Act justly, love tenderly, walk humbly

On asking Canon Eric just how long you are used to in terms of the sermon, he started off by saying 40 minutes – but don't worry, he was joking. Actually he said probably about 10 minutes, but I shall be a little shorter if you will excuse me. During my time in Plymouth I was a quarterly preacher at our local URC church and after several such services, I was standing at the door of the church afterwards when two ladies came up to me and one said how much they enjoyed having me, and then the other said, yes it meant they got home early for their lunch. It's always good to know the truth.

May I begin by thanking Canon Eric and your good selves for inviting me to be part of this festival evensong, for the Feast of St Aldhelm? When asked to choose some readings, I must admit to thinking about choosing the words of Our Lord, that a prophet is never acceptable in his own country.* But I resisted the temptation, and certainly hope that it isn't true in this case anyway. I certainly can't be called what St Aldhelm was called by the Venerable Bede – a wonder of erudition – but we will do our best.

Our first reading from the prophet Micah [this is what Yahweh asks of you, only this, that you act justly, love tenderly and walk humbly with your God] has been my leitmotif since my ordination. They are such beautifully encouraging words, and an excellent way of witnessing to the gospel. They are also words which I am sure St Aldhelm would have appreciated. We don't know that much about him really, but it is possible to get quite a good picture of how he was, and how he related to his times and society. As far as we know he was the first Anglo-Saxon to write in Latin verse, but you will forgive me for not quoting from one of his most famous works where he has 101 riddles in Latin hexameters, each of them a complete picture, and one of them running to 83 lines. So he was a bishop after all!

We are told that even as an old man he showed great activity and energy in his pastoral care of the community. He was an observant man, aware of his times and always looking to see how best the Church might respond. He noticed for instance that when his community of monks were celebrating the Eucharist, many of the ordinary people would not attend, preferring to go from house to house for a good gossip. Well, times have not changed there then. He understood that basic principle of life, that if people don't come to you [possibly for very good reasons] then you need to go to them, to be where they are.

I guess he really took to heart St Paul's injunction to be all things to all people. Because alongside this musical ability and sensitivity and alertness to the people of his time, was an incredible austerity. The other picture of him that I carry around in my mind is his tendency to recite the entire Psalter standing up to his neck in ice cold water – an example I regret to say I have not as yet followed.

Whatever else he was, he was undoubtedly a wonderful combination of simplicity, energy and astuteness. He had a sense of fun and was musically talented. He obviously had a good brain. But he could be difficult and certainly challenging, as one of his letters to King Geraint displays: ‘acrimonious' is the word often used of that letter. He wasn't a push-over. But he used all those gifts to come alongside people and challenge them to think again about what was really important in life. What he said obviously balanced with the sort of person he was and the life he led: he carried both the mark of a true Christian and of someone who could be trusted. He seems to have displayed remarkable common sense, which as always has a strong streak of justice running through it, and so he secured for his community the right to be able to elect their own Abbot for themselves. This was balanced with a sense of the order of things, and of dedication and commitment to a path that was not always of his choosing. He seems to have been reluctant to become a bishop, but bowed to pressure. Sensibly he then wished to resign as Abbot of Malmesbury but was persuaded by his brother monks not to do so.

The imagery of a wandering minstrel certainly suited his style both as abbot and as bishop, as he saw it as integral to his roles that he should visit and be with those whose way of life he sought to lead. So he would move around the various houses of prayer that he established, and throughout his diocese. Indeed it was on one such journey that he was to die in the church at Doulting on this day in 709. When one thinks of him in relation to our gospel reading, then you know he would have been alongside Jesus and the children, their presence not at all an embarrassment or a hindrance to the message, but rather the means of witnessing to it. The qualities, gifts, values and faith of St Aldhelm are very much needed in our world today, and in particular in the Church. His life remains a shining light, 1,300 years later, and one which we would do well to follow.