The Manchester Sermon – Ali Smith
18th October 2012

Having never been to Manchester Cathedral before, the first thing that struck me on arrival was the incredible beauty of the venue. The acoustics, the holy, hushed atmosphere and the high arches which are all typical of Christian places of worship, seemed an odd and foreboding place to hold a discussion on literature. I was instantly glad that it was Ali Smith, and not I, who had been given the difficult task of filling such a place of magnificence with her voice.

The Manchester Sermon event has been running for three years now, in an attempt to bring a tradition from the 18th and 19th centuries back to life. Literary sermons used to be a prevalent form of sermon, but faded in popularity during the 20th century. Canon Andrew Shanks introduced the event and, intriguingly, told his audience that the Manchester Sermon is the literary sermon, reborn. And, seeing as I didn’t know what a literary sermon itself entailed, I was eager to find out what was in store.

After the introduction, we were treated to a performance by the Manchester Cathedral choir. I am an absolute sucker for any kind of classical singing and despite having a completely untrained and uneducated ear; it always moves me to my core. As Ali Smith said later, it’s the feeling that ‘fills your chest’, and especially in such a stunning setting.

Then the sermon itself began. Ali Smith is, as I was told prior to attending the event, an engaging, witty and very humorous speaker, who took a whole array of sombre and far-reaching themes and subjects – and yet still made her audience, or congregation, titter guiltily into the arched ceilings. Her sermon was structurally wonderful, arranged in a cyclical manner, so that she ended up back at the beginning of beginnings, introducing herself and thanking us for inviting her, in excess of five times. As well as making us laugh, this structure tied in very well to the word which kept echoing throughout Ali’s sermon – re-begot. The word was coined by John Donne in his poem ‘A Nocturnal Upon St Lucy’s Day’; a poem which is so dark and lacking in hope or comfort and yet Ali grasped on to this one word, and took us out of the dark and back to the source of things, time and time again.

Obviously, a sermon must include some sort of religious discussion and on this front Ali certainly delivered. Not only were we treated to brilliant anecdotes about Ali’s own experience of the Catholic church in 1960s Scotland, in which the congregation was once told that ‘kindness to a father will not be forgiven’, but we were also taught about saints and the book of Job, and other interesting information. I feel that my brain is well stocked with obscure Biblical facts after listening to Ali talk – for example, did you know that the phrase ‘give up the ghost’ originated in the book of Job? Or that ‘sermon’, as well as meaning harangue and moralise, comes from words that mean to join and be communal? Ali finished her sermon by making a list of brilliant writers and turning their names into verbs; she was going to ‘Keats’ us, and ‘Plath’ us, and ‘Angela Carter’ us and so on. The passion with which she reeled off the names of such genius writers caught in my chest, and I felt that if I didn’t fill my mind up with the words of these talented people, I would never be satisfied.

After Ali’s sermon finished, BBC Presenter Ed Stourton joined her on stage in conversation, asking jovial questions such as whether she could clarify if she thought God was a ‘bad egg’ or not. They discussed religion, and its faithful trusting of the dark, before moving on to an open question and answer session. The last question asked Ali Smith what she wished her congregation to take away from her sermon, what her over-riding message was. She told us that we should remember our multiplicity, the huge range of things we do, together and alone. She said we must keep our eyes open to the communal, for that is the meaning of a sermon. Personally, I took away that message with me, along with others and, as I stepped back out into the chilly Manchester air, I felt renewed with a fresh sense of purpose. Perhaps I even felt back to the source of life and thought, perhaps I even felt re-begot.

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