Bible reading: from Psalm 33.

Shout for joy for what the Lord has done,
all you that are righteous;
praise him, all you that obey him.
Give thanks to the Lord with harps,
sing to him with stringed instruments.
Sing a new song to him,
play the harp with skill, and shout for joy!
the words of the Lord are true,
and all his works are dependable.
The Lord loves what is righteous and just;
his constant love fills the earth.
Worship the Lord, all the earth!
Honour him, all peoples of the world!
When he spoke, the world was created;
at his command everything appeared.
The Lord frustrates the purposes of the nations;
he keeps them from carrying out their plans.
But his plans endure forever;
his purposes last eternally.
Happy is the nation whose God is the Lord;
happy are the people he has chosen for his own!

Message.

Llanddewi-Brefi is a village in rural west Wales, situated between Lampeter and Tregaron. It’s not a big place – its population is less than 500 people; nevertheless it has a church, a chapel, two pubs and a shop. However its primary school was closed in 2018. This isn’t a traditional tourist area and most of the local people are engaged in agriculture. The district is also a stronghold of the Welsh language.

You might think that nothing much has happened in Llanddewi-Brefi, but you’d be wrong. The Romans built a fort there in the first century and occupied it for about 50 years – archaeology has shown not only that it included a heated bathhouse but that some of its soldiers came from northern Spain (so they’d be used to the rain). Later, in the fifth century, the area was conquered by Ceredig (allegedly St David’s great-grandfather), and became part of the new Kingdom of Ceredigion; while in the eleventh and twelfth centuries it saw a lot of fighting against the invading Normans and between the established Kingdom of Powys and the insurgent Deheubarthians. This culminated in a bloody battle of 1173 which was won by the forces from Powys.

Those facts may be interesting (and there’s also a lot of folklore linked to the village) but my concern today is with an event that took place in about 545 AD: a Church Council known as the “Synod of Brefi”. This was called by Dubricius (or Dyfrig) and Paulinus, the senior bishops of the Church, in order to debate and squash some heretical teaching which was “doing the rounds” at the time. Paulinus suggested that a minor local abbot called David, well-known for his eloquence, be invited to the Synod. When he stood to speak, a large crowd had gathered and legend has it that he then performed the miracle of making a hill rise up under his feet, enabling everyone to see and hear him. We are also told that David received such high acclaim that Dubricius decided to make him archbishop and immediately retired. (Was that because he recognised David’s gifts and felt he should be given every opportunity to use them – or was it because he was miffed at David’s popularity? We’ll never know!).

You, like me, are probably a bit dubious about the miracle of the hill rising up, the hill on which today’s church is said to stand. It seems more likely that David was standing on a Bronze Age burial mound; in any case, as John Davies, the distinguished professor of Welsh history wrote, “I cannot conceive of a miracle more superfluous than the creation of a new hill at Llanddewi-Brefi”. But it makes a good story and it cements David in our minds as a true Welsh icon.

I’m not going to say much more about Saint David this morning. But I do want us to consider what today might mean in this country’s life. I find it interesting that the Celtic nations of the British Isles make a lot of their saints’ days: Patrick, Andrew and David (although, unlike in Scotland and Ireland, ours is not a public holiday). That is so different from my experience in England, where St George’s Day was barely recognised, if at all. Does it say something about Scotland, Ireland and Wales wanting to assert their identities and say to the world: “Don’t forget that Britain isn’t just about England”? I suspect that it does.

Wales, of course, has an impressive Christian heritage, very different to England’s. People may think that David was the person who first brought the faith, but that’s not true; the first Christians in Wales were probably Roman soldiers at Caerleon. By David’s time the Christian faith was strong in some places and the monastery at Llantwit Major had become a powerhouse for evangelism and scholarship, indeed David himself probably stayed there for a time. Jumping ahead by a millennium, the first complete Welsh Bible was published in 1588 and proved crucial for the survival of the language, as it offered a standardised version of Welsh which united north and south. By the 1800s Nonconformist Christianity permeated Welsh society, not only giving a strong (if sometimes overstrict) Christian basis for living but also holding out against powerful influences from across the Severn.

So the Christian faith and Welsh identity became closely intertwined – so much so that some people said that religion was ingrained in Welsh peoples’ character. The theologian and nationalist Tudur Jones wrote in his book, “Faith and the Crisis of a Nation” that, in the years leading up to the First World War, “Christianity and Welsh-language culture were joined so closely that not even a wizard could discern the seam”. The historian Glanmor Williams agreed: ‘Of all the associations between religion and social value in Wales, the most intriguing and longest lasting has been that between religion and nationality. From the outset, the Christian religion seemed to be part of the essence of Welshness”.

So where are we today? Clearly the chapels are not packed out every Sunday: people are far more likely to be found worshipping at Asda and Tesco. I believe I’m right in saying that church and chapel attendance this century has fallen more rapidly here than anywhere else in Britain; this has often accompanied the demise of traditional industries such as mining and slate quarrying, where community spirit was strong. A recent article in the “Church Times” said that Wales’s religious heritage is disappearing at possibly the fastest rate since the Reformation, with a quarter of historic churches and chapels closing in the past decade and a further ten per cent of places of worship believing that they would “definitely” or “probably” not be open five years from now.

These are truly alarming statistics; yet the Christian tradition hangs on. As we were leaving the Eisteddfod at Pontypridd a couple of years ago, Moira and I were amused to hear hymns being sung, rather drunkenly, in a nearby pub. I can’t imagine that happening in London, but it shows how hymns, which have been called the “residues and echoes of a former spirituality to which only a small percentage in the crowd now adhere”, are still an indicator of Welsh culture and indicate how much of Wales’s identity and thinking have been shaped by Christianity. Although I reject the notion of a “Christian country” which is being promoted by some people today, often with intolerant, romantic or racist overtones, we mustn’t forget that Wales does bear the marks of our faith: in literature, art and politics as well as disused chapels.

On this St David’s Day, and with the Senedd elections coming up in a couple of months’ time, we need to ask ourselves what sort of Wales we want to see in the future. That was a question asked back in 1942 by Plaid Cymru’s president Ambrose Bebb when he addressed his Party; he replied by saying that his ideal was a “Welsh-speaking Wales of free, Christian yeomanry – whose faith is most cherished of all”. I’m not sure about that (and not just because of the word “yeomanry”) as, however much we Christians value nation, culture and language, our vision must always be broader, looking towards a society in which there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, with everyone united and respected equally – if not in Christ, at least in all our wonderful human diversity. Wales, like any country, must be proud of its history (as far as rugby is concerned, it can’t be proud of its present!). It must possess a strong sense of identity yet also be ready to play its part on the wider world stage. Perhaps the Church, as a global body of people with a distinct set of beliefs, can help realise that vision. Sadly it often seems to be more concerned with its inner struggles and tussles.

So, yes, let us celebrate St David’s Day. Let us all, whether native Welshmen and women or incomers like me, sense that we are part of this nation – but never in a narrow or exclusive way. Let us, if we wish, sing songs, have fun, eat bara brith and cawl (or Cadwallader’s ice-cream). And let us, as Christians, hope and pray that the Gospel of Jesus will sound out in Cardiff and Llandudno, Aberystwyth and Welshpool, and everywhere in-between: not only bringing people to faith but also helping to create a fairer, healthier and happier society. Would Dewi Sant be happy with those aspirations? I hope so.