The sun shines on the righteous as a church dedicated to a perhaps fictional saint marks its 850th anniversary.

ON the sort of sunblessed evening about which good folk (and others) dream, the church of St Margaret of Antioch, in Durham, celebrated its 850th anniversary last Sunday, and did it wonderfully well.

Father Stephen Davis, St Margaret’s rector from 1964 to 1988, seemed equally radiant, and in great good fettle. He’s 91, and read wholly appropriately from the 40th chapter of Isaiah. “The young shall fall exhausted, but those that wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.”

Mark Bryant, the Bishop of Jarrow, had attended St Margaret’s as a Durham University student and, interrupting his holiday, was also delighted to be back. “It’s a rather strange, rather extraordinary feeling,”

he said. “This place has a special significance for me.”

Barnaby Huish, the present rector, spoke of St Margaret’s “unpredictable recent history”. Fr Stephen was very much part of that – what universally became known in the Seventies as Charismatic Renewal, or sometimes Revival.

The church, in Crossgate, is one of those almost literally beneath the shadow of the great cathedral, though on the opposite side of the make-your-mind-up river.

None knows exactly when it was founded, of course, but since the 800th anniversary was marked in 1960, it seemed a bit late to argue now.

Normally, as many times previously we have observed, it is the column’s practice to find a seat next to the radiator. This time, heat on, we find one by an open door.

A sartorial dilemma, doubtless familiar for eight-and-a-half centuries, is whether to wear a tie under such sweltering circumstances.

I do, the photographer doesn’t.

Generally, it may not be said that the ties have it. That the photographer also seems uncommonly enthusiastic is because his mum’s a St Margaret’s regular. “He always does as he’s told,” she says.

The building is handsome, fascinating, full of interest. “The drastic mid-Victorian restorations which ruined more than one ancient Durham church did little to injure the character of this one, but rather restore its earlier beauty,” says the guide.

It’s also well filled, though not as full – as Fr Stephen observed – as it had been when the Spirit moved so greatly in the Seventies. He’d been brought up a Christian, rather lost his faith when a German prisoner of war from 1943 – “I think I was mad at God for where I was” – felt faith gradually return and was ordained in 1950. Before moving to Durham, he’d been chaplain of Leicester Prison. Revival flamed, he recalls, among the students.

“It was a great surprise. We had to bring in chairs from all over and still I have photographs of them sitting on the floor, people all over the place.

“It just took over. People had new lives, new vigour. We had 300 every week, 2,000 when, every Ascension Day, I borrowed the cathedral. We used to dance, sing, clap, go on for ages. Thank God, the Spirit moves me still.”

Ian Hoskins, his successor, was an Anglo-Catholic who left in 1994.

“Resigned and went over to Rome,”

says the guide, a little tersely.

David Glover, the next incumbent, focused on a ministry of reconciliation and healing. Barnaby Huish, nice chap, supposes that if they were to give him one of those labels it would say “liberal Catholic”.

“I feel very strongly that the church of God isn’t a monolith, it’s a multi-faceted thing,” he says. “The depth of what takes place here is remarkable.

There’s a genuine depth of faith and of service among the people.”

PARTS of Sunday evening’s service are accompanied by musicians from Emmanuel church, in Durham, formed partly by former members of St Margaret’s.

They remain fraternal.

Bishop Mark speaks of the need also to remain expectant – “a church that isn’t expectant will make little impact on the local community” – the service ends, splendidly, with Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.

Though all are anxious to greet old friends, returning clergy must first line up for the photographer. To the traditional ecclesiastical hierarchy of bishops, priests and deacons may now be added newspaper photographers, though in what order is uncertain.

Out in the sunshine, everyone’s keen to tell Fr Stephen that he hasn’t changed a bit. He tells them, happily waiting, that he knows. “The good Lord has been very, very kind.”