AT THE CLOSE of Pride in Liverpool on Sunday 30th July 2023, Liverpool Cathedral and Open Table collaborated to host a reflective service that brought us together and celebrated the vulnerability and visibility of Pride.

The theme of the service took inspiration from the statue of the Welcoming Christ by Elizabeth Frink which stands over the entrance to the Cathedral, greeting visitors to the Cathedral with open hands. We came with open hands to celebrate that God loves us all equally.

Following reflections on the Welcoming Christ, The Hospitality of Abraham, and The Outraged Christ, we moved through the Cathedral to the Lady Chapel to conclude our service, echoing this year’s theme for Pride In Liverpool: ‘Shout It Loud!’

The closing reflection began with this reading from Luke 19:29-40: 

As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ‘Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?” say, “The Lord needs it.”

Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They replied, “The Lord needs it.” They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road.

When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Jen Williams, founder of Open Table Sefton and Verger at Liverpool Cathedral, offered this reflection:

My name is Jen and I stand here today as an out and proud queer woman.

 I will never be afraid to shout that loud, no matter how vulnerable a position that puts me in. But I know that visibility comes at a cost.

Yesterday, for Pride, I dressed in a brightly coloured shirt and my partner had fabulous rainbow heart earrings, and we watched the Pride march amongst the crowds cheering on our friends.

After the march, walking through town, a soiled nappy was thrown at us. It hit my head with force and then the contents went all over my partner Jen’s ankles and feet.

We believe it was a homophobic attack - we came away feeling shaken and violated.

The experience triggered painful memories for me of past feelings of shame about my sexuality and gender, and of desperately wanting to feel safe - the dehumanising comments from other pupils at school: ‘is THAT a boy or a girl? What is that?’; the Stonewall posters that I put up in the school corridors being ripped off the walls; the violent attacks throughout Liverpool city centre that I protested against in 2021; every day feeling unsafe holding hands with my partner in this city.

I am glad to have come from that upsetting experience yesterday to this safe space, to reflect with you. This is a particular place of sanctuary that has allowed me to feel safe, seen and heard.

I know many people here today have been shamed and silenced for who they are. Pride is that building up of one another, finding acceptance of ourselves and others, the power of self-esteem over shame.

To be together here, in one of the largest Christian spaces in the country celebrating Pride – to reflect and proclaim who we are is hugely significant.

Initially, I wanted this talk to focus on the statue of the risen Christ - the magnificent sculpture with open hands by Dame Elisabeth Frink – known as The Welcoming Christ , which we reflected on at the beginning of our service tonight, which stands to greet all who come into this Cathedral.

The Risen Christ was commissioned by Liverpool Cathedral 30 years ago, based on the scripture reading ‘Come all you who are heavy laden, and I will you give you rest.’ [Matthew 11:28]

Once unveiled, the statue began a storm of controversy - as a Christ that was deemed ‘too vulgar and ugly’, and not in keeping with Church traditions.

The Cathedral received letters of complaint about the statue, one of which ends:

‘I can only hope that some twenty-first century Dean will have more sense and take the statue down.’

And as we heard from Dean Sue, thankfully we know that won’t happen!

The Cathedral had the courage to see something differently, and to stand its ground. Frink had boldly envisioned the queerness of Christ, that is: Christ who is deliberately androgynous; Christ who embodies neither a male nor female body but still takes on our humanity; Christ who stands out vulnerable, naked and exposed in green against the red sandstone.

The Risen Christ sculpture was Frink’s last piece of work. In a handwritten note to the then Dean of Liverpool, Derrick Walters, she wrote

‘I may be anarchic at times but I’ve always believed in God and prayer, the sanctity of life and freedom of the Spirit.'

She talked about coming to terms with her terminal illness:

‘There are moments when I feel brave about it, then I have great fears. I hope to be able to create a wonderful Christ for Liverpool Cathedral.’

It took courage for Elisabeth Frink to be vulnerable about her own frailty and illness. Her large Risen Christ statue ended up taking on her own likeness and her own strength.

Sadly, she died a week after the sculpture was unveiled.

It takes courage to be visible - Jesus knew this, and so did his disciples. They lived in a society that pressured them to stay silent about their true identities as followers of Jesus.

But Jesus said - if they remain quiet, even the stones will cry out.

Pride as a protest is first and foremost the act of seeing yourself and of being visible.

We are brave and courageous - even in the face of pressure that comes in the form of being silenced, of violent acts, of exclusion and injustice, we continue to be visible, vulnerable, and together we shout it loud.