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What’s the point of celebrating an anniversary?

How Liverpool Cathedral galvanised the heart of a community.

Stuart is communications director for the Diocese of Liverpool.

Two cans of beer depict a drawing of a cathedral.
Raise a toast!
Liverpool Cathedral

2024 was a momentous year for Liverpool Cathedral as we celebrate our centenary. To be honest we also had some celebrations in 2004 and could look at something for nearly every year up until 2078 if we put our mind to it. Is this seemingly random selection of a date merely a marketing trick. What is the point of marking or celebrating an anniversary? 

We are all used to anniversaries. At the very least every person has the anniversary of their birth to mark. Added to that we have weddings, work anniversaries and numerous other opportunities to mark past achievements. For many it can get tiresome seeing another anniversary being paraded through the media. 

For Liverpool Cathedral choosing to mark the centenary of our consecration in 1924 was significant. The centenary provided a galvanising factor for the cathedral community. It provided the impetus for us to try to secure our building through a number of improvement projects and our financial position by a massive fundraising initiative.  

We also, inevitably, planned a year of celebration worthy of a centenary bringing world class artist Anish Kapoor to exhibit, hosting a series focusing on our architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and culminating in being one of the Royal Mail’s Christmas stamps. A first-class stamp for a first-class cathedral.  

Central to our celebrations was our Peoples Service in July which marked the anniversary of the cathedral’s consecration. This reached to the heart of why we did this and why our anniversary celebrations were so important.  

Celebrating our centenary pointed to the spiritual heart and essence of us as a cathedral. We believe we were built by the people for the people and our purpose is to serve. Our history mirrors the history of Liverpool in the twentieth century, sharing joys and angsts, triumphs and tragedies. So many who visit us have a personal connection to the cathedral, a story to tell that binds them into our story. To be true to this our celebrations brought these before the God we believe in to celebrate and link these together as a reminder of the values and purpose which drive us on a daily basis. 

We also brought together people to celebrate and thank them for the role they play. For it is the people that make and drive our cathedral. Our volunteers, staff, congregations, visitors all bring the human element that bring true life and joy to the cathedral. The different ways in which they engage with the buildings beautiful, majestic architecture and use its great space fulfil the historic purpose that those who envisioned, created and built this place had. 

By rooting ourselves in our history and our traditional values we are reminded of our duty to future generations. Celebrating our centenary brought home the faithful dedication of the many whose vision brought this magnificent building into being. Knowing that, we treat what could otherwise become familiar with more respect and awe. As a consequence, we are inspired to ensure that the cathedral remains an integral part of people’s story in the future. 

By offering this to the God we believe in we are reminded that those who brought Liverpool Cathedral into existence did it to honour and worship that God. Liverpool Cathedral, like all cathedrals and churches, is meant to stand as a representation of Christ’s presence in our communities. A place of timeless reliability. The edifice of Liverpool Cathedral standing proud on the cityscape offers comfort to the city’s people even those who haven’t yet been through our doors. Celebrating that fact gives both a sense that we still remain a vibrant place, offering a range of activities and events gives a reason for people to take that first step across our threshold. 

It could easily be argued that you don’t need an anniversary to do that but moments help. In a marriage we celebrate the ruby, pearl, silver golden anniversaries but not so much on year 17. Having an excuse to do something, to be focussed, link our past to our future and above all to celebrate the people who inspire us on the way. 

2024 was a great anniversary for Liverpool Cathedral. Here’s to the next. 

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How London’s little festivals opened the door to my community

Helping an elderly Elvis to his gig gave me a glimpse into a new way of city living

Thomas is a writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

An elderly Elvis impersonator sits on a stage wearing a gold suit.
Dave Elvis.

Finding community in the middle of a city is a strange experience. I have lived in London for six years, in six different flats, and have rarely known the names of any of my neighbours. The starkness of my experience is made all the more glaring when I visit my parents. They live in a small town, close to the countryside. They know all of their neighbours, even the new ones. There are WhatsApp groups where people request eggs or leaf blowers or an extra garden chair from one another.  

My parents’ town has two things that London doesn’t: an acceptance that neighbours should depend on one another, and enough physical space for meaningful interactions to take place.  

Where I live, we are self-sufficient. The idea of asking a neighbour for anything is uncomfortable. I discovered this a few months ago when I went to ask a neighbour if I could borrow a can opener, seriously fighting the urge to walk to the shops and purchase a new one as I knocked on her door.  

In London, we have no space. Rather than seeing my neighbour over the fence in our back gardens, I see her on the stairwell. We’re both already moving to other places, so a nod is all that is exchanged. 

But over the summer, I attended two community festivals. And there, I saw a glimpse of something different; the fruits of a circumstance where people depended on one another and finally had some space.  

Back in July, my wife and I went to the Cally Festival on the Caledonian Road. We were both heavily overdressed, having just come from a wedding. From Pentonville prison to the Marathon Ethiopian restaurant, the road smelt of Jamaican food and locally baked goods. We were surrounded by stalls on every side, the gravel beneath us overtaken by a dance floor and children’s chalk drawings. Our ears rang with the words of a local poet, which jarringly transitioned to a local rap artist as we strolled along the road. Here, in the middle of our city, there was finally enough space for community.  

We were at the festival because a local celebrity wanted to sing. Dave was an Elvis impersonator who had lived on the Bemerton estate for many years. He and his flat had aged together, and he was now wheelchair bound without lift access. This would be his first outing since Christmas. Someone from our church had asked if we could come and help carry him down the stairs. The Cally Festival was forcing us to depend on one another. 

I was captivated by the festival, and the way it transformed a small part of the city. So, the very next weekend, I ventured a few streets west to Somerstown Festival. Just a hundred meters off the Euston Road, I experienced the very same phenomenon. A closed road, lined with smells, stalls, and sounds, with enough space for community. A group of people actively serving one another with a level of dependence that was creating community before my eyes. I looked left, and a young man was lifting a table onto the pavement for an elderly stall owner. I looked right, and a Catholic nun was handing out inspirational quotes about the environment. 

Community festivals can’t happen every day and cities will always lack space, but the two I visited taught me something significant about building community within my concrete home. Our neighbourhoods require opportunities to serve one another. Whilst I'm unlikely to need a leaf blower or garden chairs in my London flat, I may need a can opener or support at a community event. Small confessions of need like that could represent the mustard seed of deeper urban communities. 

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