‘A Fo Ben Bid Bont’ (‘The one who would lead must be a bridge’)

by Jennie Hurd.

As a probationer presbyter, the preacher at my Welcome Service in the old Nuneaton and Atherstone Circuit in September 1993 was the late (and, I’d say, great) Rev Donald Eadie, then Chair of the former Birmingham District. I remember very little about the service, though I haven’t forgotten that Donald preached on “Halfway Houses.” I have no idea what else he said or what was his meaning, but the phrase has stayed with me, and I’ve dug it out and pondered it from time to time. It resurfaced recently when I was reflecting on the image of a bridge as a metaphor for ministry and Christian service, whether lay or ordained.

Perhaps the concept of a Halfway House is not too dissimilar to the idea of a bridge. I feel I’m quite familiar with bridges as I grew up near the banks of the River Humber, very close to the north towers of the Humber Bridge. We watched the towers growing and the Bridge slowly coming to completion, and we were granted a day off school when the Queen came to open it. It joined a river between two counties, Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, that had been spoken of being bridged since the days of the Romans, according to my grandmother. It’s entirely possible than John Wesley himself might have wished there’d been a Humber Bridge in his day. It could have made some of his travelling easier!

There is an old Welsh saying, ‘A fo ben bid bont’: ‘The one who would lead must be a bridge.’ Bridges join and connect. They make possible meeting halfway, and enable communication and engagement. They allow for new encounters, explorations and experiences. They bring people together and enable the kind of relationship building that can lead to deeper, richer life for all parties. They can literally be life savers, allowing goods, medicines and skilled and able workers in and out of areas. Bridges can be fun (who hasn’t enjoyed a game of Pooh Sticks?) but they can be risky places as well, especially when particularly high and elevated. A bridge can be very vulnerable: they need constant inspection, maintenance and repair, and adverse conditions or human attack can cause damage or destruction. Day to day wear and tear has its impact, as a bridge is driven upon and walked over. There are many beautiful old bridges that were fit for purpose when first erected but which are challenged by the demands of 21st century life. In the light of the old Welsh saying, the metaphor of a bridge throws light on the joys and privileges of servant leadership, but also the potential costs. 

This year marks the 700th anniversary of the Nicene Creed. As I understand it, one of the purposes for the creed’s creation was as an anti-Arian move to affirm and establish the nature and truth of the incarnation within the church’s theology. The person of Jesus is both fully human and divine, the one who, “for us and our salvation, (he) came down from heaven, was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became truly human.”[1] While all our metaphorical language for the divine is inadequate, the image of Jesus’ person and ministry, his death and resurrection as a bridge, bringing to an end the gulf between earth and heaven, God and humanity, speaks to me very powerfully. The bridge belongs to both territories and to more than both territories, and while it may be a thing of beauty and worthy of praise and admiration, its primary purpose is to serve. Jesus as the bridge offers a pattern and inspiration to his followers: ‘A bo ben bid bont.’

Other metaphors relating to the incarnation present themselves. The late Rev Liz Smith, Chair of the former Leeds District and a Cornishwoman, sometimes spoke of the Cornish image for Jesus of a mermaid, as found in a carving in the 15th century church of St Senara. It depicts one who inhabits two worlds, two environments, even two species, bridging and uniting them. It’s an image that may speak to some but not to others. Different concepts inevitably resonate with each of us differently, but I would want to suggest that if an idea seems to enrich and inspire our discipleship, it’s worth pondering and praying over, our incarnate God communicating through the things of this earth.


[1] The Methodist Worship Book, MPH 1999, page 135

3 thoughts on “‘A Fo Ben Bid Bont’ (‘The one who would lead must be a bridge’)”

  1. Diolch Jennie. Tybed a y gair ‘pont’ gall defnyddio ar gyfer ‘iaith’ hefyd. Fel dysgwr Cymraeg dw i’n trio adeiladu pont i bobl eraill, ac i ble dw i’n byw. Mae iaith yn bont ddiwylliannol sy’n ein cysylltu â’n gilydd.

    Thank you Jennie. I wonder if ‘bridge’ can also be used for ‘language’. As a Welsh learner I try to build a bridge to other people, and to the people where I live. Language is a cultural bridge that connects us to one another.

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    1. Ydy wir, Andrew! Absolutely. I feel sad when people think that the richness of different languages in this world divides us. Not at all. Language is a bridge on which we meet each other and set off on adventures together!

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