By Rev Ray Anglesea
In today’s Gospel, Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, curious but unsure. Jesus tells him that to see the Kingdom of God, we must be born from above — born not just once but changed by God’s Spirit. St David whose feast day we remember today understood this deeply. His faith was not only something he believed; it was something he lived. He chose a simple life, centred on prayer, service, and faithfulness. He allowed God’s Spirit to shape him day by day. Jesus tells us that God loved the world so much that he gave his Son. St David responded to that love by giving his own life in service — preaching the Gospel, caring for others, and encouraging people to “do the little things”.
Some years ago, I had the pleasure of visiting the cathedral of St David whilst on holiday in Pembrokeshire. St David’s Cathedral stands on the site where Dewi Sant, Saint David, founded a small monastic community in the sixth century, choosing a remote and humble place at what many thought was the very edge of the world. Over the centuries, that simple beginning grew into a great cathedral and one of the most important pilgrimage sites in medieval Europe, drawing people who came in hope, repentance, and faith. Though the shrine was destroyed at the Reformation and the building itself has known damage, neglect, and renewal, the cathedral endures as a witness to a faith rooted in perseverance, humility, and prayer — the same faith St David taught when he urged his followers in one of his last sermons to “do the little things that you have seen me do and heard about.’
As I sat in the cathedral that day by his shrine, I thought about how St David’s life reflects the trust and watchfulness proclaimed in Psalm 121 we had read this morning, which looks to God as the true help and keeper of his people. Living an austere, prayerful life in the rugged hills of Wales, David embodied the psalmist’s confidence that help comes “from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth,” not from comfort or power. His long journeys as a pilgrim and preacher echo the psalm’s assurance that God guards one’s going out and coming in, while the famous story of the ground rising beneath him at the Synod of Brefi recalls the psalm’s image of lifting one’s eyes to the hills in hope. David’s gentle leadership, care for his monks, and steadfast faith mirror Psalm 121’s promise of a God who neither slumbers nor sleeps but faithfully watches over those who walk in his ways.
What I’ve noticed through my ministry as a non-stipendiary minister, a ministry outside the church, that it is often the simple encounters and simple conversations, in ordinary places at ordinary times – those little things as David put it – which, have mattered the most, how doing the little things, the simple things for others, can perhaps help and change neighbours and friends’ spiritual journeys too.
On my recent date night our waitress in our local Mexican restaurant told me she was learning sign language to help 4 regular customers who are deaf enjoy their meals. Ki. my wife, told me the other day about the local hospice where she volunteers had bought a couple of cuddle beds, beds which can be extended so that a friend or partner can sleep by their loved ones as their life draws to a close. Inflatable adjustable cushions too have been bought to assist with positioning and a patient’s comfort needs. Such little things.
Those first Christians whom we hear about in the New Testament who followed Christ looked after the small and forgotten people: the widows, orphans and the poor, those unspoken for. And they treated them not as objects to be pitied but as equals. They did this, for foreigners, friends, neighbours, slaves, free, male, female, young and old. What this means in practise as I guess you have discovered here in your congregation that all Christians are incorporated into Christ’s continuing life and witness of abiding love, constant presence and compassionate intercession. These ‘small’ people are not forgotten people but deeply loved by God.
These are not things that make headlines. But they are the things that shape souls. As we grow older, we may feel that our opportunities to “do great things” have passed us by. Yet St David reminds us that God has never asked us for greatness — only for faithfulness. A kind word. A listening ear. A prayer for someone whose name no one else remembers. These are holy things.
For those who have worked like me outside the church often with other people of different faiths or with similar planning and community ideals, I am increasingly aware of God being at work in little ways with those who seek to build a world where there is freedom for the oppressed, food for the hungry, welcome for the stranger and justice for all who suffer at the hands of misguided human power. It is my understanding that Jesus values such people as these. More than once Jesus comments on how the faith he finds in Gentiles and Samaritans puts the faith he finds in Israel to shame.
At the start of yet another colossal week of news headlines, European and Middle East wars, climate change, cost of living crisis there is a rich wisdom to be gleaned from the saying of St David. Unseen, little gestures of affection, pedestrian acts of love, sustained compassion for the suffering, a quiet determination for justice, growing old in wisdom, changing one’s ideas – these little things may be unspectacular, but they have an equal power to change lives. Small things matter. Quiet faith counts. May we, like St David, live simply, love faithfully, and trust that in God’s hands, the little things are never little at all.
Like Nicodemus, we may come to Jesus with questions or uncertainty. But today we are reminded that faith is about allowing God to change us, quietly and patiently, until our lives reflect his love. May we, like St David, be born of the Spirit and live the Gospel in the small, faithful choices of everyday life by doing the little things. And as another more modern-day saint – Mother Teresa – said, not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.
Amen
