• Sermon preached at Midnight Mass

    Inevitably I think the end of 2016 will be thought about the end of all kinds of things. Post Brexit. Post Trump. Post truth.

    It is as though we have reached the end of something and don’t know what’s coming next.

    Time in the secular world stretches straight out in front of us. Time in the spiritual realm bends always towards justice.

    But time in the liturgy just keeps on going round and round.

    And so the liturgy reminds us of truths that we would otherwise miss.

    Post referendum. Post US election. Post facts. And post certainty.

    But in the beginning was the Word.

    The liturgy brings us right round to what comes at the beginning, that which is foundational for us, that which cannot be argued with because it has always been so and always will be so.

    In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

    A very great deal has been written about the effect of Jesus’s life and of course his death. People have debated, argued, even warred with one another about quite what difference it made that he came and lived and died.

    But before that, is something that we should not simply pass us by just because we hear it on a dark, cold wintery night.

    In the beginning. Before disagreement, before war, before strife, there was God.

    And God looked at this world and loved it and wanted to be part of it.

    Before the world began, this much was true – that God was there and God had compassion and God was love.

    Before the world began, before not only our present darkness but before all darknesses, God was there and God brought life and light and truth.

    Every year I wonder how to see something new to preach on for Christmas. Every year I wonder how to see something fresh in the story itself.

    This year a friend told me a few months ago that his mother (whom I don’t know) was knitting me something.

    Not a Christmas jumper or a Christmas hat. But the Christmas story itself.

    I was presented with a whole crib scene made of knitting figures for the church. A knitted Mary, a knitted Joseph, knitted Magi and shepherds and sheep. And yes, a knitted Jesus.

    It is a work of art, and I’ve no doubt a work of love too. You don’t put that kind of work into something like that for someone you don’t know without a lot of kindness in your heart.

    And they sit here in church this year with an invitation to the children and everyone who is young at heart, to meet the characters afresh (even the sheep). I’m encouraging the children (and whoever wants to) to take up the characters and to think about what is represented there.

    To take up Mary and ponder what it mean to bring to birth the creator of the universe who already loved us.

    To take up Joseph and wonder what was going through his head as he stood by Mary. The love of the one who already loved us is known through such human kindness.

    To take up the shepherds and encounter those whom the world might least expect to receive a revelation from an angel. Whom do you encounter whom you find it difficult to believe God would be bothered with. Trust me on this one, God is way ahead of you whoever it is. For God has already loved them since before forever.

    To take up the strange Magi, knitted robes and knitted beards and knitted gifts and all and reflect on the fact that God’s love seems to extend to the kosher and non kosher worshippers alike. And to know that those outside our own definitions of belonging are already known and loved by God anyway.

    To take up and cradle in the palm of your hand the Christ child who once cradled the dawn of time in his.

    For in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

    Every year I wonder how to say something new about the Christmas story.

    Every year, I eventually come to the conclusion that the only thing to do is to let the original story stand on its own two feet.

    For in the beginning God was. In the beginning God came. In the beginning God loved.

    And we are who we are because of it.

    The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

    Not post glory. Not post grace. Not post truth.

    The real thing.

    Born amongst us. Born this night. Born in our hearts.

    And with us, God with us, as time began.

    And with us, God with us, as a baby was born.

    And with us, God with us, right here and right now.

    In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

    Amen.

     

28 responses to “Tilly – RIP”

  1. Russell Goulbourne Avatar
    Russell Goulbourne

    I’m really sorry to hear this very sad news, Kelvin. What a lovely tribute to her. The purring will never cease…

  2. Sophie Avatar
    Sophie

    I am so sorry, Kelvin. It is dreadful when beloved creatures die. I hope your flat is not unbearably empty without your Tilly.

  3. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    A cat who can vault over a dressed chalice really does deserve some kind of veneration.

    Such a moving tribute.

  4. […] Meanwhile, sympathy to Kevin Holdsworth who is mourning the loss of Tilly. […]

  5. Christine Avatar
    Christine

    What a wonderful obit for Tilly. I have never met Kevin or Tilly, but I applaud your strength in writing this lovely piece for all to share. I am a pet bereavement counsellor, and really believe that much good comes from us feeling able to express our grief for our lost animals, in whichever way we feel we can manage. It is also very heartening to read such a piece on a Church-related site. Bless you both.

  6. Patricia Avatar
    Patricia

    If Tilly’s obituary is anything to go by her memory will, in the days, weeks and months to come provide you with in exhaustable supply of stories to share with others ~ both those who knew her and those who meet her through the retelling of your stories. My sympathy to you in your loss ~ one that is shared by many others who have lost beloved pets and companions.

  7. Andrew Barr Avatar
    Andrew Barr

    Dear Kelvin,
    Deeply moved by your piece. Miss Tilly has left light for all of us who care about the SEC. Our dear friends , Emmy, Joshua, Mc Bean, Batty and most of all Caspar live on in us, and Mrs Tilly will be purring not far away always I am sure.
    Mrs Tilly, risen in glory.

  8. Ruth Avatar
    Ruth

    Beautifully written – sad and uplifting. What a lovely picture of her. Cute nose too.
    I was idly checking out your blog to see if you had a perspective on MOOT, but was immediately sidetracked by, firstly Miss Tilly, then clerical footwear ( I’d go for the purple Prada, if the soles were also painted purple – or the shiny black sequins).
    I’m almost tempted to swap cathedrals……. should enjoyment of the Provost’s blog be a consideration when choosing one’s place of worship?

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