Many families have shared stories that are told and retold, and this morning I have an example from my in-laws. As a teenager, my wife Clare was asked to serve the tables at a church stewardship dinner. A newcomer to the parish partook liberally of the wine on offer, and when the diocesan stewardship adviser stood up to speak, she was in heckling mode. He began his talk by saying that there was an important job to be done, and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody’s job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have.’

To which our heckler, understandably a little puzzled, and inhibitions lowered by alcohol, loudly interjected, ‘Well, who is this Somebody?’ to which the speaker nimbly replied, ‘I’ll take questions at the end.’ As it happens, I think her question is terrific. ‘Who is this somebody?’ could be asked in many situations, not least where people are setting the world to rights, but nobody wants to take ownership for acting on what, it is said, ‘somebody really should do’. Our current Lord Mayor tells how he was inspired to stand as a councillor after a conversation in which he and a group of friends were complaining about the way the City was run, but no-one would consider getting involved and taking on that responsibility for themselves.

In our first reading today, a council of religious leaders assemble in Jerusalem to consider the case of Peter and John, two disciples of the recently crucified Jesus of Nazareth. They are convinced that somebody is in the wrong, and it isn’t them. As we heard, the tables are turned, as we learn that everybody on the council is guilty, for Jesus is the one ‘whom YOU crucified.’ The victim, now risen from the dead, has returned as the judge, of those who judged him. Amazingly, however, this has nothing of the quality of ‘payback’ or revenge, but rather of promise and of hope: the victim has returned with the offer of salvation. As we learn from our Gospel reading about Jesus the good shepherd, the flock for whom he cares has no fixed boundaries, but is open ended and for everybody. Jesus’s vocation is to be as all embracing and inclusive as he can, and for this vision of a united and reconciled humanity, he is prepared to lay down his life. There is no more he can give than this.

This great vision of a reconciled humanity, reconciled to one another and to God, is what shapes the life and work of this cathedral church. Jesus called it the kingdom of God: in serving this kingdom we, the Cathedral of the Sea, have expressed our own local vision in maritime language: to be ‘a beacon and safe haven, anchored in Jesus Christ.’ We have committed ourselves both to affirming the good things of past and present, such as our fine musical inheritance, while also seeking further growth and development and doing new things. We are committed to nourishing the existing Cathedral community and drawing new people into it; to working for

social justice; to better serve our diocese and city; and so much more. And to do these things we have concrete plans in place: Pompey Sundays, a new informal service aimed at young people and families; Pop Up Cathedral, an innovative new engagement project working with schools; Eco Church, in responding to one of the great issues of our time; exciting new work aimed at attracting more visitors and pilgrims, including a Portsmouth Cathedral smartphone app, and a revitalized Cathedral shop with new bespoke products. And this is just the start, as we begin to build towards our 2027 centenary.

One new project should be added to that list: the ‘Season of Generosity’ that we are launching today, backed up by a mailing that I hope the vast majority of you will have received. If not, there are copies of the Season of Generosity leaflet in the welcome area. A little bit of context giving may be in order.

Our Portsmouth Cathedral vision has six strategic objectives, and one of them is about Finances and Sustainability. The objective begins like this: ‘We will build a financially sustainable Cathedral with the resources to offer inspiring worship, learning, community, external engagement and social justice.’ And then we give three examples of how we will measure progress: Cathedral expenditure does not exceed income, levels of congregational giving, and community confidence in the way Cathedral finances are managed.

Over the past eighteen months, and right now, we are doing everything we can to reduce costs and grow income, taking hundreds of thousands of pounds out of an inherited structural deficit. We have one of the smallest staff teams of any cathedral in the country, and our life and work would not be possible without the incredible support of our brilliant volunteers. And now, in this Season of Generosity, we are inviting you to prayerfully consider your own financial contribution to Portsmouth Cathedral. To consider whether or not you might be one of the ‘Somebodies’ willing to share in the responsibility for closing the expenditure/income gap, so that we might more effectively serve the great Christian vision of a united and reconciled humanity. And truly be the ‘beacon and safe haven, anchored in Jesus Christ’ that we are determined to be.

To go back to that interrupted speech with which I began, we won’t get anywhere if Everybody thinks Anybody could do it, but Nobody realizes that Everybody won’t do it. We don’t want to end up with Everybody blaming Somebody, when Nobody did what Anybody could have. And if that leaves you as puzzled as our inebriated heckler, the message is about ownership and responsibility. ‘Who IS this Somebody?’ Well, you, and me, and us together.

As I said in the opening part of this sermon, all that we do as a Cathedral is built on the foundation stone of Jesus Christ: the crucified victim who in his risen life offers hope even to those who killed him; Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, who lays down his life not only for his immediate flock, but for all those who might yet be drawn

into it. It is in the light of his risen life that we are invited to reshape all that we are, and all that we give.

In the words of a great hymn that we have not been able to sing for more than a year, which articulates the best possible response to the ultimate act of self-giving love we see, when we, ‘survey the wondrous cross’:

‘Were the whole realm of nature mine; that were an offering far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.’ AMEN