• Good Friday Preaching – The Servant Girl

     

    The truth is, I only really noticed her on Sunday. I’ve never payed her the blindest bit of attention before.

    I guess no-one ever did.

    The servant girl who answered Peter back. She’s a woman in John’s gospel but a servant girl in the version that Matthew and Cedric were watching on Sunday. There’s more detail there too.

    Peter warms himself by the fire. Cold. Human. Miserable.

    She sees him and simply says, “You were with Jesus the man from Nazareth”.

    He says no.

    She says, “yes you were.”

    He denies it again.

    A third time, “But you are a Galilean”

    Scripture rather euphemistically says that Peter began to curse and swear an oath and said, “I do not know this man you are talking about”.

    I think it is important not to mistake what is going on here.

    Three times she says – you were with that Jesus.

    And Peter’s response is, “Look you, fuck off! I didn’t know the man you are talking about at all”

    That’s what scripture tells us happened.

    And then the cock crows.

    And I’ve preached on Peter on Good Friday plenty of times. And I’ve preached on the cock crowing. The triple betrayal. The cock. The shame of it all for Peter.

    But I’ve never really noticed her.

    Until this time.

    You always notice something or someone new when you come to the passion again.

    This time for me it was her. The servant girl. The one who spoke up, spoke clearly and spoke the truth.

    And we don’t know her name.

    There is a, perhaps rather fanciful, tradition about names in the New Testament. There’s all kinds of small bit parts in the gospels and in Acts – people who appear and disappear rather suddenly. Simon of Cyrene is an obvious example in the passion. The tradition is that those whose names we know from scripture are probably people who found faith and became part of the early Jesus movement that was to become the church. There’s some sense to it. If they joined the movement they would be known by those who collected the gospel stories. They would still been around. In the case of Simon of Cyrene, we even know the names of his sons – surely he had contact with the early church if they were all remembered by name.

    But this servant girl is one of those who appear with something very significant to say but whose names go unrecorded.

    Looks like she never joined the movement and probably was never much taken seriously by anyone at the time.

    But she speaks the truth and we should listen very carefully to what she says.

    She speaks the truth to Peter even in the face of his shame and betrayal of all the love and values that he once professed.

    Ever meet this servant girl?

    She was around at the recent investigations into child sexual abuse in the church.

    I don’t remember her name but there she was giving testimony against all kinds of be-dogcollared bigwigs.

    Her testimony can be summed up easily:

    “You knew Jesus? You knew this to be wrong? Why didn’t you do something?”

    And she made those bigwigs wriggle with shame.

    The servant girl in the courtyard with Peter speaks truth to power. She persistently calls out his lies.

    She is a better priest than Caiaphas. She is a better judge than Pilate. She knows right from wrong. She knows she is being lied to and she says so.

    And Peter – yes, that’s Peter, the rock on which the church was built has no answer.

    I still don’t know her name, and I’m not sure she wants to have much to do with the church anyway but I’m sure I’ve started to hear her voice more often recently.

    The woman in the courtyard accusing Peter.

    I hear her speaking truth to power.

    I see her holding up slogans demanding gun control following a shooting in her school.

    I was there she says. I know what really happened. I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears.

    “You knew that man Jesus didn’t you and yet you ran away when he was vulnerable and in trouble”.

    I know not her name but I hear her speaking out about abuse in the world of showbiz, the world of politics, the world of religion.

    And she speaks the truth.

    She knows that those in power, no let’s name it – men in power will wriggle when trouble comes and try to cover their backs. Try to say – I was not there. I didn’t see it. I knew nothing about what was going on.

    The darkness of the courtyard, Peter stands warming his hands by the brazier and the light of the fire causes her to see the badge he is wearing that no-one else can see which says plainly – “It wisnae me”

    She she’s fooled by nothing.

    She knows that cheating is wrong in business, or education or relationships. She knows that abuse is wrong in the classroom, on the sportsfield or in clergy training programmes. She knows that in this world in which everyone has an opinion, there’s still such a thing as truth. Black and while truth.

    She knows what’s what and she has found her own voice. And she speaks the truth.

    I found myself on Sunday listening to the passion and asking myself why I’ve never heard her voice before.

    But I’ve never heard it because I’m part of the system too.

    Patriarchy is the system that we all find ourselves negotiating and most of us find ourselves making deals and compromises with patriarchy. And voices go unheard.

    Are things changing.

    Is the servant girl – no let’s call her a woman, is the woman in the courtyard finally being heard?

    I don’t think we can know yet.

    But I do know she’s finding her voice. I do know she’s speaking truth to power. I do know also that the powerful are going to put up quite a fight to shut her up.

    But she looks into that patriarchal world and she calls us to live by the company that we have kept with Christ.

    Love is both the goal and the weapon. Love is the destination and love is on the horizon but love is the weapon by which we nip away at patriarchal assumptions, rules and systems.

    She knows the truth, does the woman in the courtyard. And this is her time.

    Who needs a crowing cock.

    These days she posts on twitter.

    And she uses the hashtag #metoo.

9 responses to “The Episcopal Way of Death”

  1. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    The greatest privilege I have ever had in the service of the people of the church was to be the person who received the coffin the night before the funeral and led Compline then. The church was on an island, and the coffins those of people I loved and honoured. It was deeply moving for everybody there. I hope one day that will be done for me and mine.

  2. Sr Alison Joy Avatar
    Sr Alison Joy

    I have prayed washed and dressed Sisters who have died and it helped me to see that death is not scary. I have lined a number of Sisters graves with flowers around the inner edge from the inside, also helpful. The body was received at Vespers in Chapel the day before, Solemn Requiem was the next day complete with asperges and incense. We returned from the graveside and when in Chapel sung a very joyful favorite hymn for the Sister we had just buried. It was always a sad, happy, remembering occasion I hope that I will be able to have most of this too.

  3. Sarah Lawton Avatar
    Sarah Lawton

    This is beautifully said.

    When my parents died in a car crash, we knew our Episcopal church would be too small to accommodate all the mourners; but the local Roman Catholic congregation saw our need and graciously offered the use of their space for our Episcopal funeral (including Eucharist led by two Episcopal bishops). They also offered their pall for the second coffin as we had only one. All the churches and the synagogue in town offered choir members and/or food for the feast after the service. An ecumenical, indeed, interfaith foretaste of heaven!

    We placed the two bodies in closed coffins in our Episcopal church the night before; we prayed Evensong and Compline, and received a long line of visitors; and then parishioners kept vigil with the bodies all night. In the morning we prayed over the bodies before beginning the procession to the larger RC church where the (Episcopal) funeral was to be held. In this sad, glorious service sang many, many Easter hymns, and I learned that it’s possible to sing and sing even through tears. I’m told that people reconciled that day who had not spoken in years – I’ve heard it from both parties (one now a bishop).

    All of which is to say: our Episcopal Way of Death can be a profound grace if we let it. It can be profound too when it’s a simple, small, quiet service for a person who has lived a long life and died of old age (unlike my parents). It’s the same words, the same truth of loss – all of us pass through this life but for a moment – the same mystery, the same words of affirmation and hope at the grave: alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thank you for posting that – bearing witness to exactly what I was trying to say.

    2. Michael Povey Avatar
      Michael Povey

      Thanks Sarah. (Other readers, Sarah is a friend. I was at the Funeral and heard her offer the most profound Gospel Centred and Honest Grief eulogy I have ever heard)

      1. Sarah Lawton Avatar
        Sarah Lawton

        Dear Michael, thank you for saying that. Your presence that day was a blessing to our family. That gathering, for all the shock and sadness, really did feel like a foretaste of heaven, didn’t it? A great cloud of witnesses singing with us.

  4. Ronnie Smith Avatar

    Having attended a few funerals in our parish recently – one of them for our Vicar, who died on Easter Eve – and being nearer to the grave myself (at 85 and still active as a priest) I appreciate, Father Kelvin, the care you take over this special subject. The Church can be so close to families at this special time – giving them a taste of ‘The great love of God as revealed in the Son’ – precious at this time.

  5. Tony Whatmough Avatar
    Tony Whatmough

    There are sometimes good reasons for having the cremation first, as there was for my brother yesterday especially with people traveling and wanting to be able to bury the ashes on the same day. They key is to talk with the family about what they are looking for and how it can be done.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Dear Tony, I’m sorry to hear that you’ve lost your brother. May be rest in peace and rise in glory.

      There are always reasons why people want to have a cremation first and people always believe that they are good reasons. Every single time there are reasons. My contention is that I’m unpersuaded that any of them justify changing what we believe. (What we do and what we believe being utterly bound up with one another in such circumstances).

      My point about funerals is very precisely that the wishes of the family are important but that no tradition will survive if we simply abandon what we believe for reasons of convenience.

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